The floor stopped being below him.
Lin Ke looked down and felt his inner ear seize with violent, nauseating dizziness. The dark rock beneath his knees hadn’t shattered into rubble. It had simply ceased to report its upright map point.
The floor was neither hard nor soft, neither black nor white. He looked at his left boot. Then, the leather was slowly unraveling into unrendered grey wireframes. He faded from the toes upward into an addressless void.
Beside him, two vanguard guards screamed as their shins disappeared into thin air. They didn’t fall down, because ‘down’ was no longer a valid vector in the local space-time matrix. They drifted sideways, spinning helplessly like compasses over an iron mine.
The Arch-Null Horror was hovering three hundred paces above the central bus.
Its featureless white expanse was blotting out the glowing crimson ceiling. It cast no shadow because it possessed no light settings. Around its outer edge, reality’s spatial index was rotting in real-time.
“Master Lin!” Shen Yue’s panicked shout was distorted, the sound waves stretching out into low, booming groans as the air lost its sound thickness. “The magic charms... The ink won’t stick to the paper! The paper has no weight!”
