The heat radiating from the destabilized Core Crystal was not merely hot; it was an existential force. It stripped the moisture from the air, turning the wind into a blast furnace.
Alvian dove straight into it.
[System Warning: Extreme Thermal Radiation.]
[Passive [Terra-Form]: Stress Critical.]
[Passive [Thermal Nullification]: Active.]
His [Vestments of the Void Monarch] glowed white-hot, the [Molten Star] essence woven into the fabric drinking the heat greedily. It was the only thing keeping him from turning into ash.
He landed on the maintenance platform attached to the Core. The metal was soft, almost liquid under his boots.
The Core itself—a crystal the size of a mountain peak—was screaming. cracks ran along its surface, leaking geysers of raw, unstable mana. It pulsed red, faster and faster.
"It's going to blow in sixty seconds," Alvian estimated.
If it blew, the explosion would wipe out the falling island and the evacuation fleet hovering above.
