The Beast King stepped forward again, and the entire structure convulsed like it had just been sucker-punched by an angry god.
Chunks of the ceiling tumbled down, revealing the swirling madness outside. Colors that shouldn't exist twisted through the air like hallucinations ripped from someone else's fever dream.
Rumble! Crack!
Despite the cosmic threat marching toward him, Creed couldn't tear his focus from the Primordial Circle at the center of the chamber.
His system was hard at work, syncing with its design, slowly copying the functions embedded in its ancient geometry.
If it succeeded even a tiny bit, he'd gain more than strength, he'd gain influence over the building blocks of reality itself.
The applications were endless. Assuming, of course, he didn't die first. Or worse, if the artifact's energy exceeded his system's limits and erased him from the simulation like a bad line of code before he gained anything tangible.
