As Vesuvius ascended higher, the atmosphere thinned, and the cocoon of reality began to fray at the edges. Each flap of his mighty wings brought him higher and higher, the earth below shrinking into a ball of colors.
'It is finally time.' Closing his eyes, he plunged into the darkness of his own making, where the only light came from the luminescent threads of magic weaving through his mind. Complex magical diagrams, geometric shapes, and ancient runes spun before him.
With a focused intention, Vesuvius channeled his mana and opened his eyes, igniting the spell. A brilliant aura enveloped him, its glow intensifying as he poured more of his mana into it. The fabric of reality began to distort, bending and warping under the spell's gravity influence.
The planet's once-circular horizon began to twist, colors merging and stretching as if painted by a mad artist—the space was broken and warped.
