It was as if reality itself had shattered around Max.
His whole body felt naked, despite the scales still covering him. The void armor was gone. His blade was gone. All that remained was his flesh, his wings, his blood, and those dark scales slowly cracking beneath the invisible pressure of the golden circle rising around him.
The cracks spread little by little, thin golden lines burning between them as if the light was not only pressing against his body, but reaching deeper, trying to peel away everything that did not belong to this world.
It is too late now...
A sigh rang through his mind.
It was sad and ancient, so lonely that for a moment it did not sound like the voice of a creator at all. It sounded like someone who had watched the same disaster happen too many times before, someone who had already stretched his hand toward Max but could no longer reach him.
I told you to flee, Max. Once you are in their hands, I can no longer help you.
