What Should Not Be

A tremor of light raged in the air, splitting the vast chamber into a storm of silver radiance.

Sionan's Meteoric Stardust rained down like divine judgment, a celestial tempest swallowing the space where Dasig and Leon once stood.

The air warped in a cascade of shimmering threads, their woven essence sealing the impact zone, twisting reality itself to contain the devastation.

The world flickered—light expanding, then collapsing into an eerie silence. The attack did not burn. It did not search. It dissolved a force that shattered existence into particles finer than dust, their remnants lingering in a thick, luminous fog. The scent of scorched ether and something faintly metallic clung to the air, sharp and otherworldly.