Aku didn't look away from the core, even as the Van der Waals radiation and Casimir fluctuations in the air manifested as a static charge that made his skin crawl.
The topological shockwave continued to expand, a disturbance warping the very metric of space with every pulse. The weapons floating around him remnants of his own treasury vibrated as if their atoms were undergoing a forced reconfiguration. Some, unable to withstand the stress of the enemy field's helicity inversion, shattered into fragments of violet light that vanished into the vortex. Others held on through sheer material density, but their trajectories shifted from stable vectors into erratic oscillations.
And then, in the midst of this chaos of fundamental forces, Aku smiled.
It wasn't a wide or triumphant grin. It was a slight change, almost imperceptible, at the corner of his lips. It was the look of someone who has spotted the flaw in a seemingly perfect equation.
Tadeo Jhons' system had lost its balance.
