The lingering scent of ozone from Nomu's abrupt departure hung in the air of Merlin's study, a strange, electric counterpoint to the musty smell of ancient scrolls and forgotten lore. Kenjiro stood there, the vein on his forehead still throbbing with a residual, impotent rage. The sheer, unmitigated audacity of the Super Jeans was a constant, grating annoyance that he couldn't seem to escape.
Merlin, however, just chuckled, stroking his long, white beard as he watched the spot where Nomu had vanished. "Fascinating," the old sage mused, his twinkling eyes full of a scholar's curiosity. "Their energy signatures are completely alien. It's not magic, not as we know it. It's something else entirely. A raw, physical power that seems to bend the laws of reality through sheer force of will."
