The void itself convulsed, as if recoiling from what Glothar had become. His new form—raw, unbound, an inferno of hunger wrapped in a man's frame—burned with a gravity so absolute that space bent like cloth around him. Every breath he drew was a tide of annihilation. Every pulse of his core was the end of another world.
His voice, stripped bare of chorus, rumbled with primal certainty:
"Do you know what it means… to fight the heart of hunger? It means every wound you carve… carves you in return."
The abyss surged outward in veins of shadow-fire, threading into Leon and his allies, pulling at their resonance, dragging their very wills toward silence. Naval's arms buckled, veins bursting as his trident shook. Roselia clutched her chest, coughing blood as her fire guttered. Liliana's threads frayed to dust in her fingers. Roman's fists split, bones cracking under the weight of holding ground. Milim fell to one knee, her star-wings dimming to sparks.
