The tunnel no longer existed.
What remained was a crushed artery of stone and flesh, the ceiling folded down into itself in uneven slabs. Broken ribs of reinforced support jutted at bad angles, wrapped in vines that had gone slack or burned black.
Dust hung low and thick, drifting in slow sheets as gravity finished its work.
For a few seconds, nothing moved.
Then the debris at the far end shifted.
A low grind rolled through the rubble—grrrrk~—stones rubbing against one another as something pushed from inside. The mass bulged outward, vines tearing loose with wet snaps, until—
BOOM!
A bright beam of golden energy tore through the blockage in a tight circular stream, drilling forward with ruthless focus.
Rock didn't crack; it vanished. Vines disintegrated mid-coil, reduced to ash and drifting smoke. The beam lasted only seconds, but it carved a clean tunnel straight through the collapse.
