The World Core Chamber stretched twenty miles in every direction, an inverted world-size vault of crystal-clear diamond strata and churning mantle rivers.
At its sharp-angled center hung the heartbeat of the world.
It wasn’t a sphere of golden light.
It was a titanic, writhing giant statue of stone-hard malice—the Primordial Uncanny Source in its true cosmic form.
Two miles of compacted black glass bone and weeping rotting void-matter rose from the molten sea like a stone-hard god torn from ancient nightmares.
Thousands of non-Euclidean tendrils, thick as city gates, anchored the titan directly into the earth-shaking roots of the continent.
From its central chest cavity pulsed the Abyssal Eye of Oblivion, weeping an aura of negative five hundred degrees.
Where that anti-heat-powered frost touched the air, reality turned brittle.
