The march out of the Old World metropolis was a masterclass in frictionless, absolute desolation.
Ren walked down the center of the shattered, multi-lane interstate highway that served as the primary southern artery out of the urban grid. His Level 40 Abyssal Sovereign architecture did not interact with the environment; it completely negated it. The heavy, dark, iridescent obsidian plates of his Chitin Shell absorbed the faint, anemic starlight, while his pitch-black, tungsten-sheened Iron Skin registered exactly zero thermal bleed.
He didn't disturb the knee-deep layer of fine, grey ash coating the asphalt. His combat boots didn't crunch. He moved through the dead zone with the terrifying, silent grace of a shadow completely detached from its caster.
The Aura of the Void radiating from his chest was not an active weapon; it was a passive, constant state of localized extinction.
