The two leftover Coronal Devourer Platforms let loose their backup salvos. A swarm of over six hundred heavy bio-clockwork torpedoes filled with tightly packed cold-matter gel, designed to put out the heat core of anything they struck. The torpedoes streaked through the golden star-fire of the basin, leaving trails of frozen, violet empty pocket in their wake that hissed wildly against the surrounding solar fire.
Pip didn’t wait for Arthur’s command. The ancient bloodline of the Nine-Sun Golden Crow coursed through his newly forged spirit veins with the unstoppable driving force of a sun-fire mass ejection.
With a powerful, timed together kick from all three golden claws, Pip launched himself into the open void.
As he cleared the protective boundary of Titus’s gravity castle wall, Pip’s body underwent its final sun-fire transformation. The surrounding heat of the lower corona—two million degrees of raw, sun-hot energy—didn’t scorch him. It embraced him like a mother welcoming her long-lost child back to the hearth.
Pip opened his golden beak and drew in a huge breath of the surrounding solar star-fire.
His wings swelled. From a three-meter wingspan, the divine aether within his bones swelled faster and faster. He extended his blazing bright main flight quills until they spanned two hundred meters across the golden sky. His plumage turned from polished gold into a blinding, white-hot blaze of stellar fusion. Three radiant, sun-forged crest plumes arched proudly above his golden crown, while nine tiny orbs of spinning solar fire began to coalesce along his…
