Outside the void, silence reigned.
Where Leon once stood, a perfect sphere of darkness had taken his place, it was a black dome that pulsed faintly, swallowing the light around it like a living shadow. The floor beneath it hummed, with faint ripples spreading through the marble as though the dome itself had weight beyond the physical.
Emperor Alexander Arman, ruler of the human domain, conqueror of a thousand battles found himself stunned. His expression, usually unreadable, flickered with something rare: confusion.
'What in the world… is happening?'
He knew what the process was supposed to look like. When someone bonded with Nigg'erite, the ore would instantly adapt to its wielder, its structure reshaping into whatever weapon best suited them. The process was clean, quiet and almost graceful. The material was prized precisely because it required no forging or manipulation, only will.