Four seconds remained on the clock.
Four seconds between the salvation of an ancient world-guard and the total liquefaction of Arthur Vance’s brain.
[00:04.0]
Inside the thirty-meter extraction pit, the dislodged void core was swelling like a bruised, diseased sun. Stripped of the dragon’s cellular holding and starved of its drain tube lines, the forty-ton mass of rotting matter had entered a permanent overload state. Packed violet lightning arced across its stringy skin, discharging high-hum psychic screeching that threatened to crack the newly unsealed skull bone beneath it.
If it blew up here on the skull, the blast wave would wipe out the World-serpent’s lower brain and turn to steam Arthur where he knelt.
Grimm didn’t wait for an order.
Through the final, burning threads of the 100% convergence bridge, Arthur’s intent was already branded into the hound’s Fenrir marrow.
[00:03.8]
