Tararat's miniature sun swallowed Ackster whole and turned the surrounding area into a pool of molten rock as it melded with the ground and pushed Ackster to the bottom of the pit.
Tararat watched the sun blaze and rage like a wildfire until it had burned through all of its mana, leaving only a pond of lava. His gaze was fixed on the center of the pool, piercing the thick liquid. He had a grim face.
Soon, an ivory hand reached above the surface like the dead rising from their grave.
"Fucking monster."
Following his hand, the rest of Ackster's skeleton climbed up from the thick, almost solid molten rock. He had lost basically all of his flesh. But his skeleton was intact, and as soon as he left the pool, his soft tissue started regenerating and covering his skeleton again.
Ackster rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side, making popping noises. He looked at Tararat.
"You got any more tricks up your sleeve?"
