[Warning—gore.]
The tentacles spill out of Zeke's shadow like a wave of pure, solidified darkness. Or is it darkness spilling as hundreds of dark tendrils?
The Ascended realize what I don't a moment earlier than I do—they don't stand a chance. One, three, four, or a dozen—they are nothing next to Zeke's pure power. But they have been arrogant, and now, like flies in a spider's web, they are caught.
Zeke's tentacles entwine their limbs, their torsos, one by one until each Ascended has its own separate cocoon of liquid darkness. The thin tentacles merge into sturdy branches from which those cocoons hang.
The weirdest tree I've ever seen.
Jade lowers his rifle. "That's at least WAW level, Grasshopper."
"He's an ALEPH," Grasshopper says, throwing me a glance. "You forget about the context."
