In the depths of the fractured World Core, Demon Monarch Mo Sha had ceased to think like a conqueror.
He was now thinking like a cornered beast.
The ancient demonic horror looked down from his spatiotemporal perch and saw the golden characters of the Carnot cycle swirling around Frank’s sixteen-ounce ball-peen hammer.
Those characters were not mere runes. They were the ancient equations of heat transfer. The deepest cosmic laws that dictated how energy moved through matter. Mo Sha didn’t understand modern heat laws, but his ancient soul recognized the terrifying presence of total order.
Total order was the mortal poison of the Nether-Void.
“Impudent insect!” Mo Sha roared, his voice sending blast waves through the bedrock. “You think a speck of sky fire can touch my eternal core?! I’m the end of light! I’m the silent graveyard of galaxies!”
Realizing his negative-breakdown star-blast had been compromised by Frank’s audit, the Demon Monarch abandoned his planned blast.
Instead, he channeled every erg of negative breakdown leftover in the underground fault line inward.
