Inside him, the White Lotus Essence Ice expanded, trying to overwrite everything—to turn his flames, his essence, and his soul into stillness. But the Devouring Flames refused to yield. They roared with defiance, consuming the frost that dared to exist beside them.
The world around Max became an extension of his torment. One half of the landscape froze into white crystal, while the other burned with black infernal fire. The air trembled from the pressure of two divine forces colliding.
If Max's body hadn't been reforged by the Giant Dwarves, it would have already been obliterated. Even now, despite their craftsmanship, his form was nearing its limit. The blacksmiths of the Giant Dwarven Tribe had rebuilt his body to endure immense strain, but what raged inside him now was far beyond any mortal test.
He collapsed forward, his palms slamming into the ground as cracks of energy spread out beneath him.
"Not… yet…" he hissed, his voice trembling.
