The twin molten blades slammed into the compressed space before her, generating a shockwave that flattened the terrain for miles. But instead of cutting flesh or shattering ice, Björn's weapons sank into a dense gravitational pocket, a conceptual void where kinetic force went to die.
The Avatar's eyes burned with an icy radiance. "You adapt to survive and end battle," her voice reverberated, carrying the weight of a decree. "Then adapt to the burden of existence itself."
She unclenched her left hand "Weight of the Womb" she said as
an invisible, overwhelming pressure slammed down onto Björn.
It wasn't a physical mass, but the undeniable gravity of new space being birthed around him. His newly evolved obsidian bones groaned under the sudden influx of of tons of ambient spatial pressure. His body, designed to purge internal frost, found itself instantly struggling against a hyper-dense atmospheric lock that sought to return his physical form to a embryonic, immovable state.
