When the last ripples of distortion finally vanished, the void fell into an unnatural stillness.
There were no remnants of the attack left behind. No shattered fragments, no fading traces of miasma.
Only Reynold remained, standing alone in the endless emptiness.
Fractured light wrapped around his body in slow, uneven pulses, yet his posture was relaxed, his breathing steady, as though the clash that had just ended had been no more than a passing disturbance.
Then his eyes lifted.
Far above him drifted the remaining dark sphere. Its glow no longer held the might it once possessed. Instead, it pulsed weakly, unstable, like a dying star struggling to maintain its form.
Before Reynold could take another step, the space before that sphere cracked open without a sound.
The void split apart like brittle glass.
