Chapter 64: Collapse
The instant the pill dissolved between Mankhaura’s teeth, the battlefield convulsed.
A shriek—not of voice, but of existence—ripped through the air.
The arena, forged from sacred stone and laced with ancient enchantments, trembled beneath the sudden violation. Mana twisted unnaturally. A detonation of raw force erupted outward, not like thunder, but like the death of a star.
Space bent around Mankhaura’s frame as if the world itself recoiled from what he had done.
The ground beneath him cracked, buckled, and then exploded in shards. The polished stone shattered like glass underfoot, spiraling upward in jagged fragments suspended in the cyclone of his aura. Dust, debris, and raw magic twisted into a vortex that reached toward the heavens, a pillar of chaos ripping through the tranquility of the blue sky.
It was not simply power. It was a desecration.
His silhouette—barely human now—stood at the eye of the storm. Limbs trembling. His back arched unnaturally. Every muscle spasmed under the weight of the energy coursing through him. Flesh and bone protested violently against the foreign force now inhabiting them. His skin cracked in places, hair rising as if the very atoms of his body had forgotten how to be still.
His scream was silent—but the world heard it.
The mana wasn’t his. That much was evident to anyone with eyes.
It writhed around him like a beast unbound. Thick tendrils of corrupted light lashed outward, carving scorched lines into the air. His Domain—once rigid, defined—now pulsated erratically, changing shape and color with each breath.
From the high stands, the elders rose in horror.