Satan stood at the periphery of the explosion, utterly unharmed and mildly offended that anyone might assume otherwise.
He had calculated the blast radius down to the inch (he didn't) — mostly because he didn't trust anyone else to do math correctly — and had no intention of being collateral damage in his own experiment.
A sense of fulfillment took over his mind for a brief second as he watched how well it had worked. He silently grieved at how he couldn't do it again.
The moment Percival began shaking off the flash like an irritated cat, the room decided to give up on structural integrity altogether.
Beams started to, walls decided that they were getting paid enough and quit living altogether, and massive chunks of debris fell in a fashion that would make any demolition expert weep with admiration.
Grandpa Gereon would have approved of the efficiency.
