As a punishment for harming a beloved one, they were determined to tear this ignorant and lowly woman into shreds, inch by inch, from head to toe.
Sensing a subtle shift in the atmosphere, Beatrice, who was unaware of the cause and effect, instinctively retreated backward.
Having her limbs shattered was frightening, but to a Fallen Evil God, it was a matter of a single thought to regrow them.
However, moments later, She suddenly realized something was amiss.
The limbs that should have regrown following her will remained unchanged, as if they were beyond Her control, no longer obeying Her as before.
It was as if... the very concept of "limbs" had been completely eradicated by the opponent.
Beatrice immediately realized the terrifying nature of the white-haired woman before Her, but the other gave no respite, appearing right in front of Her like a shadow.
Those crimson eyes remained apathetic from beginning to end, their intent to kill so intense it was effortlessly readable.
Beatrice felt a grim premonition and just as She began to speak, the five fingers enveloped in scarlet light did not pause, striking quickly toward Her face.
A strong sense of alarm surged.
If this witch wished to annihilate the "Beatrice" consciousness remaining within Her, what then?
Only now did She realize the truly fearsome nature of the entity She was facing.
The only consolation was that at this moment, She was not in physical form and Her power was diminished by the flow of time and space, not even a fraction of Her prime.
This is why She still had the luxury of time to contemplate countermeasures.
Even so, the witch in the black dress before Her was an opponent She must confront with all Her might.
In an instant, a ferocious look flashed in Beatrice’s eyes, Her body, tainted by the Evil God, became increasingly twisted, revealing a dense network of cracks like shattered porcelain, from which tendrils of ominous black light burst forth.
She originally did not wish to face others in such a state, as it was severely at odds with Her aesthetic before Her fall.
As the Goddess who held the Authority of "Beauty," it was truly ironic that She, after falling, would display such an unsightly visage.
But since it had been seen, then no one would be allowed to escape.
The moment Miss Witch’s palm pierced through Beatrice’s face, the dark evil light, carrying with it the chaotic flows of space and the storm of corruption, swept out in all directions.
Seeing this, Miss Witch, constrained by the river of time and unable to exert Her full power, frowned slightly and disappeared into the sudden storm.
When She reappeared, She was by the side of Goddess Tiya.
Looking at Ivyst, who was holding Lynn in Her arms, the Doomsday Witch felt disgruntled but considering the situation at hand, She didn’t act out.
"Take him and leave this place."
She commanded in an indifferent voice.
Yet Goddess Tiya, wiping Her tears, looked hatefully towards the transformed Beatrice in the sky, "She has bound the space around us; only a being of equal or higher Rank than Hers can forcefully break it."
In other words, with their current ranks, none present had reached the Divine level necessary to do so.
"Waste." Ivyst said coldly, cradling the barely-alive Lynn in Her arms, "And you’re the same. If it had been me just now, I would have never allowed Her to live."
"You’ve been alive for a hundred thousand years more than I, and yet you’re still so useless. If I were you, I probably would have already died of shame."
Miss Witch glanced over, "Are you looking to start a conflict?"
Before Ivyst could retort mockingly, Lynn in Her arms suddenly let out a series of light coughs.
Ivyst immediately looked down anxiously, gently caressing Lynn’s forehead as if soothing a baby, "Ah, there there, it’s okay..."
His condition was truly critical; they must leave this place quickly to get help.
Seeing this, panic also filled Miss Witch’s heart. Her gaze flickered as She watched the youth in Ivyst’s arms, Her pale fists subconsciously clenched tight.
Yet the Evil God Beatrice before them was not an adversary that could be dealt with in a few moves.
If She Herself had arrived here a hundred thousand years later, perhaps a single glance would have sufficed to obliterate Her entirely.
However, what had manifested here was merely a Spirit Thought Body, weakened by the river of time and space, with the true body still imprisoned within the Pantheon a hundred thousand years in the future.
Above in the sky, Beatrice, who had completely lost Her humanoid form, now exhibited Her mythological state.
By all reason, the true form of the Bright Moon Goddess should be a cold bright moon, emitting a silvery glow as described in the scriptures.
But what now appeared before everyone was a monstrous entity, brimming with endless malice and filth, its grotesqueness unparalleled.
It was a planet-sized mass of flesh, its pitch-black surface covered in fur-like twisted, wicked tentacles. At its very center, a narrow fissure undulated slowly, and then a massive, towering pupil forced itself open, slowly rotating before fixing its terrifying gaze upon Ivyst and Her companions.