Whoosh!
The moment his palms met, the torrent of black flames that had been flooding from his body surged upward like a geyser of darkness. The flames twisted and gathered above, forming a vortex that spun faster and faster, absorbing every drop of infernal fire Max had unleashed. Then it began to compress, shrinking inwards but growing denser, heavier, hotter—until finally, it took shape.
A giant sphere of black flames floated in the sky above them, silent and motionless. It was massive—easily the size of a football field—hovering like a second sun, but one made of death and oblivion.
The surface of the sphere wasn't smooth—it was alive, rippling with tendrils of fire that slithered around it like serpents hunting for prey. And though it did not fall, did not descend, did not explode... its presence alone was devastating.
