There was no terrifying suction, no metaphysical black hole tearing through reality. Instead of the ravenous, autonomous hunger from before, the Golden Liquid in his solar plexus felt like a massive, coiled snake that had just swallowed two whole elephants.
It was completely, stubbornly dormant. When Sol tried to forcefully squeeze his core to draw the Queen's essence out, a sharp, terrifying spike of phantom pain lanced through his chest, as if his ribs were physically threatening to splinter outward under the internal pressure.
Frowning, a stubborn crease forming on his forehead, Sol pulled his hand back.
Maybe a Layer 3 is just too big? Maybe they take up too much bandwidth? his mind reasoned frantically, refusing to give up on the loot.
