As Max stepped fully into the center before the leaders of the Black Dragon Palace, an unbearable pressure descended upon him without warning. It was as though the weight of the heavens had fallen directly onto his shoulders, crushing down with merciless force.
His breathing slowed, his blood felt heavier, and even his bones seemed to groan under the invisible oppression. In that instant, Max truly felt like an ant standing before ancient gods, his very existence on the verge of being erased by their mere presence.
Yet that sensation vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. A deep and ancient calm surged from within him, spreading through his body like a stabilizing tide. The title of Primordial resonated silently, anchoring his existence against the overwhelming authority pressing down on him. His spine straightened, his gaze steadied, and his heart returned to an even rhythm.
When the pressure faded, Max stood tall and composed, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred at all.
