The gym was no longer a gym.
Its walls were cracked, the floor shattered, dust and fragments of tile floating in the air like ash. The air itself seemed alive thick with pressure, raw Shinrei, and the toxic pulse of the Void.
Matthew stood in the center, his body half-human, half-something else, black veins crawling across his skin like living shadows. His eyes flickered wildly between human clarity and abyssal haze. Every step he took shook the ground, like the Void itself had grafted into his bones.
Khael's hands trembled, pressed against the sigil he was weaving. Ancient dragon glyphs twisted and spun, molten gold spiraling around his arms, his veins bulging as though they would burst. He could feel his blood boil, the inheritance of Azael burning him alive as he tried to force the Severing Seal into place.
Khael thought, "(Come on… come on… If I don't finish this now… we'll lose him.
