As everyone stared at the veil in the skies with varying expressions, Atticus was facing a battle of his own.
Xal'zereth's detonation had unleashed a supernova of pure mana surging outward. And while he was currently containing everything, it was beyond straining.
He had turned into the energy that had reduced the paragons into nothingness, but it was a force capable of obliterating anything shaped by form, bound by structure, or composed of elemental substance.
But pure mana was not matter. It was essence. Unshaped. Unbound. Formless.
The elements destroy form. But pure mana has no form to destroy.
But yet the mana was still incredibly volatile, and he had to keep it bound and restrained until it stabilized and returned to a manageable state.
But this was the problem, he was containing a supernova. It was akin to a balloon attempting to contain an explosion from within. It was a miracle he was still in one piece.
