The cavern trembled under the force of the collision.
The sharp, pinkish-purple ice spikes did not just block Lyon's attack; they devoured it.
Like a wildly proliferating thorny thicket accelerated by centuries of growth, Ultear's Rosen Krone relentlessly pierced through Lyon's Ice Geyser.
The chaotic, unstable ice of the Reiyutei shattered into harmless snow dust against the dense, structural perfection of Ultear's creation.
The thorns didn't stop as they advanced toward him with terrifying force and speed.
Caught off guard, Lyon's pupils dilated in shock.
He hadn't expected his strongest attack to fail so miserably.
Panic flaring, he quickly raised one hand, attempting to salvage the situation.
"Ice Shield!"
A vertical wall of thick ice materialized from above, slamming down to protect him.
But it was futile.
The fragile, single-handed ice wall shattered like wet paper under the thorny assault. The structural integrity wasn't even in the same league.
CRASH!
"Gah!"
Countless jagged spikes enveloped Lyon's body.
They didn't impale him through the heart—Ultear had aimed carefully—but they tore through his clothes and skin, violently hurling him into the air like a ragdoll.
He smashed against the far wall of the cavern, sliding down to the floor in a heap.
Ankh, watching from the shadows, couldn't help but gasp softly.
'The gap in their abilities,' he noted, 'is truly immense.'
In the world of Ice Make magic, the school of Ur reigned supreme.
But within that school, there were levels.
As Ur's only daughter, Ultear had been exposed to the essence of Ice Make magic since birth.
It was in her DNA.
For Ultear, Ice Make was akin to what Death God Slayer Magic was for Ankh—a secondary, dormant power that ran deeper than her primary magic.
Even if she rarely used it, preferring her Lost Magic Arc of Time, the innate understanding ingrained in her bloodline far surpassed decades of arduous training by outsiders.
At the very least... it was a summit far beyond Lyon's current reach.
Ankh recalled that even in the original storyline, Gray—bolstered by his rivalry and the "protagonist's buff"—had only managed to defeat an Ultear who lacked the will to fight him.
Just as Ankh typically dominated battles with Titan Gravity while keeping his God Slayer magic as a hidden trump card, Ultear's Ice Make was her own secret ultimate technique.
Therefore, facing Ultear's superior technique, coupled with her raw magical suppression as a wizard of the Ten Saints caliber, the gap was not something Lyon could bridge with tricks or dynamic casting.
"Ugh..."
Lyon groaned, coughing up a mouthful of bright crimson fluid.
Having solidly endured the piercing assault of thousands of thorns, the Ice Emperor looked wretched.
He was covered in terrifying bloodstains, with scorching blood gushing from cuts on his arms and chest as if it cost nothing.
This was no bloodless anime battle where characters shrugged off fatal blows.
This was a brutal reality.
A single misstep meant death. The fact that Lyon had nearly lost his life due to a momentary carelessness spoke volumes about the danger he was in.
Even though powerful Mages possess Magic Power to reinforce their bodies, granting them physical and magical resistance, they are not invincible.
They bleed and they break.
Feeling the bone-chilling cold invading his open wounds, Lyon gritted his teeth.
His pride was stinging more than his skin. He forced himself to rise to his shaky feet, his silver hair matted with sweat and blood.
"Who... Who are you?!" Lyon roared, his voice cracking with desperation. "Why can you use Ur's Magic?! Why can you use it better than me?!"
In his heart, beneath the denial, Lyon was now absolutely certain.
This woman, who bore an extreme, haunting resemblance to his late master, must be inextricably linked to her.
This realization had struck him the moment he was hit by Ultear's attack.
It wasn't just the power, it was the shape.
Ur had once taught them a fundamental truth: Creation Magic is a freeform art. It is the magic that best reflects the caster's personality. The strength, variety, and shape of the ice depend entirely on the caster's creativity and soul.
When a caster finds the form most suited to them, Creation Magic unleashes a unique combat power specific to that individual.
Lyon's mind raced, analyzing the three practitioners he knew:
For Gray, the forms most suited to his personality were simplistic, durable objects—hammers, lances, shields, and heavy artillery.
This matched Gray's nature: seemingly calm and utilitarian on the surface, but possessing a fiery, righteous solidity underneath.
For himself, Lyon Vastia, the forms were diverse, dynamic ice beasts.
Eagles, dragons, tigers. He commanded a zoo of frozen predators.
This aligned with his ambitious, aggressive character—he wanted to be the King of Beasts, the ruler who looked down on the weak.
And Ur...
Ur's preferred forms were plants.
Specifically, roses and flowers.
They were gorgeous, elegant, and artistically perfect.
They possessed a thorny lethality to outsiders, yet a rose-like, merciful tolerance toward her loved ones. The magic reflected Ur perfectly: a tough, prickly exterior protecting a gentle, beautiful interior.
And now, this woman before him.
Her magic was also plants. Her magic was also roses.
This inevitably made Lyon think of his master.
The connection was undeniable.
Moreover, combined with Ultear's appearance—the black hair, the eyes, the face that haunted his dreams—the clever Lyon gradually conceived an incredible answer in his heart.
"Could it be..." Lyon stammered, his mouth agape, ignoring the blood dripping down his chin.
"You're..."
Watching the tense and panicked white-haired boy, Ultear remained expressionless.
Her hands continued to move in fluid, graceful arcs, maintaining the shaping gestures uninterrupted.
"Which is stronger, Lyon?" she murmured, her voice carrying across the cavern. "The stable, two-handed shaping of our mother? Or the reckless, single-handed shaping you invented? You can try it for yourself..."
Our mother.
She didn't say it explicitly, but the implication of "Ur's style" hung in the air.
Hearing this, Lyon immediately swallowed his words. His eyes, previously filled with confusion, regained their steely resilience.
If... if the truth was as Lyon suspected, then this woman before him was undoubtedly the person closest to Ur in the world today.
She was the ghost of Ur's past!
'To surpass Ur... I must first defeat her flesh and blood!'
"I WON'T LOSE!" Lyon screamed. "I have surpassed her!"
Seeing Lyon's restless agitation, Ultear didn't hesitate.
She chuckled softly, a sound that was both mocking and encouraging. "Come on, then. Show me your 'surpassed' magic."
Lyon's face darkened.
He channeled every ounce of his remaining Magic Power. He refused to use two hands. He would prove his way was superior.
Amid continuous flashes of blue-white light, the temperature in the cave plummeted further.
"Ice Make: DRAGON!" "Ice Make: SNOW TIGER!" "Ice Make: GIANT APE!"
Three vividly crafted giant beasts materialized from the ether.
Their ice muscles flowed like liquid mercury before hardening.
With a collective roar that shook the stalactites, the dragon, tiger, and ape charged toward Ultear, flanking her from three sides.
It was a magnificent display of dynamic ice making.
But Ultear didn't flinch. She didn't even move her feet.
Only when the three ice beasts were about to pounce on her face—their claws inches from her skin—did she calmly assume a stance.
She clapped her hands together.
Pinkish-purple, extreme-cold ice energy erupted from beneath her feet in a shockwave.
"Ice Make: Pink Rose Garden."
Vwoom!
The ground around Ultear exploded into life.
Crystalline ice vines, thicker than tree trunks, sprouted instantly. But unlike the previous attack, these vines were covered in massive, blooming roses.
The roses began to spin.
Like giant, diamond-hard buzzsaws, the spinning flowers intercepted the charging beasts.
Shhh-CRACK!
The Dragon was decapitated by a rose bloom.
The Snow Tiger was ensnared by vines and crushed. The Giant Ape was shredded into snow by the centrifugal force of the spinning petals.
In less than a second, the several ice beasts were annihilated, turned into nothing more than sparkling crystalline powder drifting in the air.
The elegant and noble roses bloomed proudly in their place, surrounding Ultear in a protective, deadly garden.
To the unknowing eye, it looked like a scene from a fairy tale—a princess in a garden of glass.
To Lyon, it looked like absolute defeat.
'This is... Ur's technique,' Lyon thought, his knees trembling. 'But it's sharper and ..... Crueler.
Lyon's face darkened like stagnant water.
Sure enough, she was Ur's daughter.
She was still alive.
Moreover, she possessed her own Creation Magic, almost identical to their master's, but refined to a lethal edge.
Lyon's heart was suddenly filled with a conflicting storm of joy and sorrow.
The daughter their master had longed for all those years... the little girl whose clothes Ur had cried over... she had been found.
She was alive!
'But Master... you aren't here to see it.'
Lyon hesitated. He looked at the ice shards of his destroyed creations, then looked at Ultear's face through the gaps in the rose garden.
He realized he was unwilling to make another move.
After these two exchanges, Lyon had clearly understood the chasm between them.
That dynamic creation technique—the triple beast summon—was nearly the strongest form Lyon could create.
It was his masterpiece.
Yet... it hadn't even touched the hem of Ultear's clothing.
"What's wrong?" Ultear's voice rang in his ears, cutting through his despair. "Didn't you want to prove you surpassed Ur? Then surpass me first! Is this all the 'Ice Emperor' has to offer?"
Lyon's fists clenched violently at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight.
But then, his hands relaxed.
The tension drained out of his body, leaving only exhaustion.
After a long silence, a relieved, bitter smile finally appeared on his bloodied face.
"As expected of Ur's daughter," Lyon whispered, his voice hoarse. "Truly remarkable."
In the blink of an eye, the shadow of obsession that had haunted Lyon's eyes for ten years gradually dissipated.
Ur's teachings remained vivid in his mind.
He had twisted them, trying to surpass a dead woman to validate his own existence. But after Ultear appeared here and delivered two sharp slaps of reality—both physical and magical—Lyon finally saw himself clearly.
He wasn't surpassing Ur.
He was just a child throwing a tantrum because his mother left him too soon.
'What 'surpassing Ur'... completely ridiculous...'
"Dual Creation... Stability... Master," Lyon murmured, tears mixing with the blood on his face. "Even after you're gone, you're still sending people to teach me lessons..."
'Thud.'
Lyon collapsed, sitting heavily on the cold ground.
He looked up at the beautiful, terrifying woman standing in her garden of ice roses, and smiled self-deprecatingly.
"I lose," he said softly.
Ultear's furrowed brows relaxed slightly.
She lowered her hands, and the spinning roses slowed to a halt.
She knew this stubborn child, who didn't know the height of the heavens or the depth of the earth, had finally understood reality.
Ankh stood to the side, leaning against a rock, watching Ultear with a peculiar, amused expression.
'This scene,' Ankh thought, 'somewhat resembles a strict elder sister disciplining a rebellious younger brother who stole cookies from the jar.'
Indeed.
When children misbehave and lose their way, sometimes a good beating from family is all it takes to set them straight.
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