Michael's scalp burned under the professor's grip, pain mingling with a creeping sense of dread. In that moment, he felt less than human—an insect caught in a giant's hand, ready to be crushed at a whim.
He couldn't summon his mind's eye to inspect within, but he didn't need to. He could feel the professor's will burrowing into him, sifting through every layer of his being. It was invasive—violating—as though every corner of his soul lay open for inspection.
If this man harbored even a flicker of malice, Michael knew there would be nothing he could do to stop him.
"Oho? Your soul is quite resilient," Professor Stark remarked, his tone one of genuine praise.
The next instant, the crushing pressure vanished. Michael collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath, his body trembling from the release.
"Birthright rings—three orange."
