The skies above the Capital were supposed to be gone.
Supposed to be nothing but obliterated memory- ash, ruin, the scream of millions swallowed into silence by the most devastating force their plane had ever known.
Gamma Radiation, pure and foreign, unleashed by the Neuronova-Stage Lunaris Throne, a death blow not even time could have remembered!
And yet…
There he stood.
Achilles.
Floating amid a sphere of collapsing cataclysm, obsidian light licking his figure like threads of reverence. The light bent toward him. The chaotic surge of foreign radiation was being pulled in with a terrifying grace, his palm outstretched and steady, fingers flexed only slightly as the stellar carnage vanished into him.
No defense runes. No arm-raising in exertion. No clenched jaw, no narrowed eyes.
Not even a flicker of discomfort.
