That was not any known form of defense existing within the physical universe.
It was neither the rigid blocking of an energy shield nor the light-warping of a Psionic Deflection Field.
In front of Leticia, those four pure conceptual lights representing the origins of the universe intertwined and merged the moment they bloomed, transforming into a nearly transparent, shimmering... domain.
Like a fragile, translucent glazed bubble, it gently enveloped Leticia and her four Sisters.
Within the domain, everything was crystal clear and untainted by a speck of dust.
Outside the domain was a divine punishment of destruction forged from iron and fire, enough to level mountains and evaporate oceans!
Boom—!!!
The roar of ten thousand cannons firing in unison did not arrive as expected.
Or rather, the sound was completely "erased" the moment it reached the edge of that glazed domain.
Countless thick energy beams and whistling Heavy Bolter rounds were like hitting an invisible, intangible, yet infinitely deep Wall of Sighs.
No explosion.
No impact.
There wasn't even the slightest ripple.
The energy capable of melting the armor of a starship was instantly "neutralized" the moment it touched the domain's surface, turning into the purest, most harmless light particles that dispersed like fireflies.
Those physical warheads capable of tearing through alloy fortresses had their material structures "deconstructed" from the base level the instant they touched the domain, silently decomposing into primitive metal dust that drifted down.
The entire battlefield fell into an extremely bizarre and contradictory scene.
On one side was hysterical, frantic destruction from ten thousand cannons.
On the other side was a calm, absolute tranquility, as if nothing had ever happened.
This scene, which subverted all logic of war, caused the Iron Warriors executing the "Final Protocol" to fall into a brief procedural malfunction.
"Warning: Target undamaged."
"Attack ineffective. Repeat: Attack ineffective."
"Determined to be an unknown high-dimensional Psionic Deflection Field. Recalculating firepower model."
The cold synthesized electronic voice echoed through the Iron Warriors' communication network, carrying a hint of incomprehensible logical conflict.
"Firepower level increased to maximum."
"Synchronized fire!"
With the command issued, even more terrifying firepower joined this futile concerto.
Those hideously shaped Daemon Engines let out piercing roars as Chaos energy gathered at their muzzles, spraying out reality-warping Chaos Rays filled with malice and madness!
This time, the torrent of destruction was more than ten times larger than before!
Yet, before that small, seemingly fragile glazed domain, everything remained as before.
Within the domain.
The four Primarch Sisters looked composed, as if they were admiring a silent firework display.
Angronia stood at the very front, her amber eyes burning with pure Battle Intent, staring intently at the incoming attacks.
She didn't even make a move, but her unyielding Battle Intent, originating from her soul, had already turned into an invisible millstone.
The "kinetic energy" and "killing intent" contained in all attacks attempting to invade the domain were completely "ground down" and turned into nothingness the moment they touched her will.
Fogremia slightly furrowed her perfect brows, seemingly feeling a heartfelt displeasure at this "crude" method of attack.
She extended a slender finger and lightly brushed through the air in front of her.
A perfect, pinkish-purple divine arc flashed briefly within the domain's inner wall.
Her Authority of [Divine Charm] was not used for direct defense, but for "judging the unbeautiful."
In her eyes, the energy structure of these attacks, filled with chaos and disorder, was itself an "ugly" creation full of "flaws."
Her power simply pointed out these "flaws," and thus, under the instinct of "pursuing perfection," those attacks "disassembled" themselves, collapsing into the most basic harmless particles.
Sanguinia's snow-white wings gently unfurled behind her.
Warm golden specks of light, filled with the breath of life, fell from her wings.
Her Authority of [Vitality] turned the entire domain into a nursery for life.
To her, the assimilated energy was not a threat, but "nutrients" that could be absorbed.
Every dissipated energy beam only served to make the aura of life within the domain even richer.
And Magna, the newly born Crimson Sage, just stood there quietly.
In her crimson eyes, countless flowing data and laws were reflected.
Under her Authority of [Knowledge], this small domain had become an independent "reality universe."
Here, she was the sole legislator.
When a bolt shell was about to touch the domain, she simply "rewrote" the physical law of "explosion" into "blooming" within her mind.
Thus, the lethal warhead bloomed into a cold, metallic shimmering Iron Rose the moment it touched the domain.
This was the true "defense" after the fusion of the four Creation Authorities.
It wasn't about "blocking" damage.
But rather, from the conceptual root, making the act of "damage" itself impossible to establish.
At the highest point of Medrengard, atop the iron fortress named "hatred."
Perturabo was silently watching all this through tens of thousands of monitors.
On his face, twisted by anger, a pure "disbelief" belonging to a top-tier craftsman and mathematician completely took over for the first time.
He could not understand.
This was impossible!
The most perfect firepower matrix he had designed, the saturated attack he believed could level everything, actually seemed like a ridiculous pantomime in front of the opponent!
The opponent hadn't even used any defensive technology he could comprehend!
It was more like... a higher-dimensional life form using "rules" he couldn't understand to toy with everything he took pride in!
Just then.
He saw that the glazed domain, far from wavering under the saturated bombardment, began to... radiate its characteristics outward.
On the ground covered by the domain's radiance, the hideous craters were smoothing themselves out at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The twisted rebar that had been burnt to cinders was regaining its metallic luster.
Even...
Even on that cold, desolate, iron-gray earth, countless tiny, shimmering metallic-textured flowers with perfect geometric shapes were quietly growing and slowly blooming from the cracks in the steel.
Life.
Beauty.
Hope.
These things he had long abandoned and even sneered at were eroding his cold iron hell, built with pain and hatred, in the most unreasonable way.
The saturated bombardment, which had lasted for several minutes and was enough to completely bury a Space Marine Chapter, gradually grew sparse.
Finally, it stopped completely.
A dead silence fell over the battlefield.
Those tall Iron Warriors Terminators and hideously shaped Daemon Engines stood frozen in place like crashed machinery.
Their cold logic cores had been completely burnt out by the unprocessable, divine scene before them.
The principle of "Firepower Supremacy" they believed in, carved into the deepest parts of their souls, was completely shattered by an incomprehensible, even "beautiful," "absolute defense."
In this bizarre, absolute silence where even the wind had stopped flowing.
Fogremia took a light step forward.
Her perfect, deep purple eyes slowly swept over the crude, bloated iron fortresses piled up solely for efficiency.
In her gaze was an extreme, undisguised physiological disgust belonging to an artist.
"So ugly..."
Her voice was like the most piercing noise accidentally sliding into a magnificent musical movement.
"It is simply... a profanation of 'existence' itself."
She turned her head, looking at the black-robed goddess who had stood quietly from beginning to end in the primary position, and bowed slightly, performing a flawless lady's curtsy.
"Sister."
"Please allow me..."
"—To judge this ugliness."
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