The heat and pressure cut him like a thousand knives.
The swirling winds of condensed spirit energy dragged across his bare skin like coarse sandpaper, but Sol didn't even flinch. Maybe it was the quiet, invisible work of that midnight compass resting deep within his consciousness, or perhaps the sheer stubborn fury driving his blood.
Whatever the cause, his Layer 3 Peak body began to glow with a brilliant, molten golden aura, backed by the unyielding density of the Great Badger.
His muscles swelled beneath his skin, his broad chest locked tight, and with a brutal, unyielding charge, he smashed straight through the outer vortex of the essence storm without slowing down for a single heartbeat.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of tearing through a tempest where every cubic inch of air was packed with razor-sharp spiritual friction and countless superficial cuts opened and closed across his skin, Sol breached the inner eye of the storm.
