The Altar of Noon was a brutal, battered place of sentencing. As Ren Hanshin stood upon the diamond anvil at the heart of the Solar Forge, the conceptual weight of the God of Light's presence began to liquefy the very essence of his porcelain skin. Here, at the apex of the Constellation of Solis, the air was a pressurized sea of holy fire, and every heartbeat was a transaction that Ren was losing.
[Synchronization: 74.0% (UNSTABLE)]
[Level: 115]
[Condition: Sovereignty Rejection]
[The Overleveraged Executioner! Warning!]
Ren's form was a study in divine agony. His right side, the Weaver's masterpiece, was no longer translucent; it was cracking, hot mana leaking from the fissures like molten glass. His left arm, the silver-lead limb, groaned under the atmospheric pressure, the metal turning brittle and grey. He was a creature of shadow trying to breathe in the heart of a star, and for the first time since the Necropolis, the weight he carried was not his own, it was God's.
