[Madness Influence: 73%]
Time itself had frozen, the very fabric of existence stretched taut.
In the center of the festival grounds, everything was focused on a single point: the miniature black sun being born at the tip of Ignis.
This was neither fire nor shadow; it was the very heart of nothingness.
The dark energy around the sword grew with an insatiable appetite, devouring the surrounding mana, the light, and even the sound.
Cassian's silhouette trembled at the center of this world-devouring vortex of his own creation.
The ability to think was now no more than a whisper.
Logic, strategy, regret—all were crushed beneath the crown's unending thirst for blood.
There was only one command echoing in his mind, an absolute truth carved into every fiber of his being:
Destroy.
This desire was so pure, so intense, that it had wiped away everything else of who Cassian was.
Far off, amidst the piles of rubble, Aron clutched his bleeding wounds, watching helplessly.
