Rex lowered his gaze to the stone floor, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the very foundation of the world.
For months, he had carried this active mode as a dormant potential rather than a functional reality. He had held it in a state of precise, controlled reserve, a capability he knew existed but had refused to deploy until the context was absolute.
He had been waiting for a moment where the output was not merely a requirement for survival but a necessity for measurement. He had been waiting for a moment that could withstand the sheer, unmitigated pressure of his existence.
He had finally found it.
With a sudden, violent grace, Rex drove both of his obsidian-clad fists downward.
The impact was not loud in the conventional sense of a crashing explosion; it was something far more profound and terrifying. It was a sound that bypassed the ears and struck directly at the marrow of the bones.
