He hadn't fought against the maternal grace of the Abyss. There was nothing to resist, because the true Abyss had never, in all of existence, exuded that suffocating level of sentimental warmth. The very premise of the attack was wrong, a fundamental misunderstanding of the abyss, and a glaring testament to just how far this false construct fell from Mahu's shadow.
Björn had simply played along. He had let his knees buckle, allowed his posture to slacken, and let the false aura wash over him, all to test the absolute limits of what this mimic could produce. It was an experiment to gauge his own reactions, a mental dress rehearsal for the day Mahu herself might wield that conceptual blade against him again.
When Mahu summoned the presence of the Abyss, it was terrifying precisely because it was real.
