The white void remained utterly motionless, yet the atmosphere had shifted entirely. The thirty-foot sphere of raw celestial light, now laced with swirling ribbons of ink-black shadow, hovered harmlessly against Kyle's right palm. It didn't pulse. It didn't radiate heat. It sat there like a tamed beast, its terrifying authority subverted by the mere touch of his skin.
Kyle slowly lowered his hand.
The massive star didn't collapse or explode. It simply dispersed into millions of tiny, glittering specks of silver and black dust that floated lazily through the air before dissolving into nothingness.
Kyle looked down at his gauntlet, then up at the cloaked figure standing twenty yards away. His mind was churning, trying to reconcile the ease with which he had just caught an attack meant to turn a high-tier core to ash.
The angel didn't move for a long moment. The six pale silver rings behind its back hung limply, their silent rotation completely stalled.
