"Aahahahhhhhhh!...."
The scream did not fade.
It did not echo and disappear like sound was supposed to.
It tore through the arena and stayed, clinging to the walls, sinking into the rune-etched stone, vibrating through metal, bone, and breath alike—as if the mountain itself had been wounded and did not know how to respond.
For a single, terrible moment, the Thousand Hammer Crucible lost its rhythm.
The hammers froze mid-descent.
Magma hesitated in its channels, glowing veins pulsing erratically, no longer flowing with their former certainty.
And everyone—everyone—felt it.
Kyle's hands slammed against the barrier again, harder than before, the impact ringing uselessly against reinforced stone.
"LUCA—!"
His voice cracked completely this time. There was no bravado left. No attempt at humor. His shoulders shook as he leaned forward, fingers digging into the barrier as if he could tear it open through sheer desperation.
"That scream—" he choked, unable to finish the thought.
