The red ice didn't just encase the Phoenix's Breath; it seemed to "Settle the Accounts" of the universe. In my old life, I'd read about "Absolute Zero," the point where all molecular motion stops. But this wasn't physics—it was "Corporate Sabotage" on a cosmic scale.
I stood in the center of the Grand Plaza, the shadow of the Northern Empire's obsidian airship stretching over me like a "Hostile Takeover" notice. The crowd, which had been cheering for my victory over the Chairman seconds ago, was now frozen in a "Market Panic".
"Chancellor!" Bastian's voice broke through the ringing in my ears. He was at my side in a heartbeat, his hand on the hilt of Phoenix Fire, but for the first time, he looked "Undercapitalized". "The blade... it's not reacting. The heat is being 'Drained' before I can even draw it!"
