The Earthen Authority's grip slammed shut around the amber gold notation. The contact wasn't just physical; it was a metaphysical violation.
The divine authority burned through Rex's palm like molten phosphorus, searing through muscle and nerve, eating away at flesh that was already struggling to maintain its own continuity.
But Rex didn't flinch. His fingers locked around the blade with a strength that defied his broken ribs and hemorrhaging side.
He wasn't trying to stop the weapon; he was using it as an anchor, a tether to chain the god to his own reality.
With a primal roar that tore at his vocal cords, Rex channeled every remaining ounce of his telekinetic reserves into a single, concentrated point. He drove the force upward, a piston-like strike aimed directly at Kaeleth's sternum at point-blank range.
'Now. Break him.'
The impact was seismic. Kaeleth's composure, the millennia of practiced, divine detachment, cracked audibly.
