Rex moved through the chaos with the terrifying, unhurried gait of a reaper approaching a harvest already completed. The domain around him was a nightmare of fractured reality; the floor buckled like wounded flesh, and the amber gold air screamed as it tore apart without its anchor.
Shards of the divine throne and crystallized time whipped through the air like shrapnel, but Rex walked through the storm as if it were nothing more than a light breeze. His boots crunched on debris that used to be the foundation of a god's power.
Kaeleth lay broken on the heaving floor. Without the throne, his divine coherence was hemorrhaging.
His form flickered like a dying hologram, translucent patches of his body revealing the raw, bleeding void beneath.
Every time his essence tried to reassert itself, the chaotic domain rejected it, sending fresh waves of agony through his nerves. He looked less like a god and more like a corpse made of fading light.
