When Lin spoke the word kneel in defiance, the world itself seemed to convulse. The abyss-born filling the streets didn't simply fall silent—they screamed, a shrill, inhuman cacophony that rattled glass from the towers and sent shockwaves down the broken avenues.
Dozens of them collapsed outright, spasming as if some unseen thread had been cut. Others tore at their own bodies, claws raking across flesh, ichor spraying as they convulsed. Their kneeling had not been ritual—it had been necessity, their existence bound to the word crowned. And now that word had been broken.
The skyline buckled. A streetlight groaned, bending into a twisted arch before snapping entirely. Pavement split in jagged seams. Even the air shimmered, like a great furnace roaring to life.
Above, the colossal figure did not retreat.
