Soul energy erupted in a dome, hot enough that air warped and snapped. Sound followed half a beat late: a bass crack that kicked grit into the void. Kikaru flung an arm up, the gold flare of Light snapping around her like a shield just in time to catch the first shards of blue heat.
She slid back on her knees, grit skidding beneath, hair whipping into her eyes as the shockwave clawed for distance, slamming into the far edge of the arena with a thunder‑wrung roar.
The Announcer glided closer, shoes making no sound on the glass‑smooth plane. A thin band of silver light coiled between his fingers—threads of soul‑glass drawn from the air where Elias's shard had burst. Each strand shimmered like spun mercury, alive and whispering. He gathered them into a fist, compressing the glow until it hardened into a rough, walnut‑sized core: jagged, half‑formed, still pulsing with a muted blue.
