The devastation stretching across the capital plaza had reached its absolute boiling point. Every impact from the clash between Khamata and Admiral Cold sent seismic ripples deep into the tectonic plates of the Anipla Planet. Faizan, Saad, Nehal, Shoaib, and Muntahan held the secondary perimeter, their eyes wide as they witnessed raw, unadulterated physical supremacy. Nearby, the five brothers—Lam, Asadullah, Draz, Krodh, and Bayu—stood watching their mother, their respective elemental and tech auras completely eclipsed by her sheer presence.
Admiral Cold, despite his massive 300kg frame of ancient glacial muscle and deep-sea diamond plating, was running out of code. He let out a cavernous roar, attempting to trigger a last-ditch gravitational frost collapse to freeze Khamata's very cellular structure.
Khamata didn't even blink. She stepped straight into the freezing absolute-zero field, her skin radiating a golden, dense physical weight that defied the very laws of physics.
"GODDESS'S FIST: TOTAL IMPACT."
She threw a single, unflashy right straight hook. It didn't explode with fire or crackle with electricity, but the sheer kinetic mass compressed the entire atmosphere into a vacuum. The punch connected squarely with Admiral Cold's chest. The sound was a dull, heavy thud, followed by the catastrophic cracking of his core. The titan among the Admirals didn't just fly back—his entire bulky structure shattered into millions of pixelated ice shards, dissolving into gray ash before they could even hit the ground. Admiral Cold was completely deleted.
Seeing the bulkiest member of their vanguard turn to dust in a single fluid sequence, Admiral Cy narrowed her eyes. Her transparent frost body flickered with a cold arrogance. As the master of swift absolute-zero strikes, she genuinely believed her lethal speed and conceptual freezing capabilities could bypass the raw strength of the Khandaker matriarch.
Cy vanished, reappearing directly above Khamata's blind spot, her fingers extending into razor-sharp icicles aimed straight for the neck.
Khamata didn't even turn her head. She simply raised a casual left arm, tracking Cy's "invisible" motion with effortless precision.
BANG.
One punch. A single, short left hook caught Admiral Cy dead in the jaw. The impact was so dense that it completely bypassed Cy's elemental intangibility. With that solitary strike, the female Admiral was instantaneously knocked out cold, her transparent form slamming into the concrete, completely incapacitated and stripped of her absolute-zero aura.
Standing a few yards away, Admiral Atlanta watched the entire sequence unfold. Her mischievous, cute demeanor vanished in an instant. Spun ice pigtails trembling, her elegant fans froze mid-air. As a high-ranking conqueror who had witnessed the destruction of countless galaxies, she possessed the tactical intelligence to immediately figure out the terrifying reality before her: Khamata was undisputedly the Strongest Woman of the Current Era. "Nope! Nope! I am not fighting a literal cheat-code!" Atlanta shrieked, her voice losing its giggly charm.
Without a single second thought, she triggered her Glass-Ice Prism technique to create a massive flash of blinding light, attempting to mask her retreat. She turned and ran away at full speed, breaking the sound barrier as she fled toward the outer atmosphere, hoping to reach the safety of Admiral Freezer's cosmic aura in the solar system.
Khamata stood in the center of the clearing, the wind pulling at her hair. She sighed, a low, maternal chuckle escaping her lips. "Running away from a mother who just saw you target her children? Foolish."
With a simple movement, Khamata focused her tracking senses. She didn't use tech like Lam, or lightning like Asadullah. She used the pure spatial intuition of the G.O.D. of Strength. In less than a fraction of a heartbeat, she found her out.
Khamata appeared directly in Atlanta's path of flight as if she had teleported. Before the cute Admiral could even scream or raise her fans, Khamata raised her right index finger.
FLICK.
A casual, effortless finger-flick tapped Atlanta squarely on the forehead. The localized kinetic shockwave generated by that tiny movement was so immense that it functioned like a meteor strike. Atlanta was smashed into the ground in a devastating flash, creating a crater three miles wide, her entire vanguard aura completely neutralized. Three Admirals down, handled by one woman in a matter of minutes.
THE KING'S SILENT RETREAT
Meanwhile, back in the silent graveyard of the Icerian Multiverse, the atmosphere was entirely devoid of life. Frostera the Duke—the supreme King of the Icerians, the legendary ruler who possessed absolute, terrifying control over the cosmic properties of ice—stood looking at the empty void.
He looked at his shattered empire. He looked at the endless plains of gray ash that used to be his home galaxy. Then, he looked at the Five-Armed Man, who was still casually standing there, indly shifting his five arms, looking utterly bored.
The Duke's black-green fire, fueled by his initial rage, suddenly went dead silent. The realization of the absolute power dynamic hit him. He didn't say a single word. He didn't roar, he didn't swing his scythe, and he didn't make a grand speech.
With an eerie, cold silence, the King of the Icerians simply turned his back, stepped through a dark-ice portal, and fled away from his own dead universe, leaving his entire legacy behind.
The Five-Armed Man didn't even bother to chase him. He slowly let his lower right hand drop from his cosmic plunger, his central third eye watching the portal dissolve into the vacuum.
"Ah," the Five-Armed Man whispered, a thin, mechanical chuckle escaping his throat as his five arms settled into a relaxed pose. "Go ahead and run, King. You will praise me later for cleaning up your mess."
CLIFFHANGER:
With the three vanguard Admirals completely defeated by Khamata, the sky above Anipla Planet begins to turn an ominous, pitch-black shade of purple. High in the solar system, Admiral Freezer finally begins to move his actual body, his terrifying cosmic pressure descending directly onto the two squads.