Atlas felt the tremor of pain through the veil — faint, distant, like thunder crawling across his own bones... His true body, anchored in the Third Layer, bled.
He could sense the crack in his ribs where divine pressure had bent him, feel the echo of the Guide's scream reverberating through the dying connection.
'...Atlas Where the hell are you?! If you delay any longer, it will be permanent! Your body's fading, — and when it dies, I die with it...' The Guide Warned.
The voice grew distant, swallowed by the layers of realm and flesh and soul.
The cat's heart beat slower, steadier. He was here now — walking upon the snow, its crystals glinting like powdered glass under the spectral aurora bleeding across the night.
The air smelled faintly of ozone and burnt feathers; remnants of celestial battle clung to the world like ash. Each pawprint the cat left hissed faintly with warmth — his mana leaking through, melting through frost.
