The thumb pushed forward.
SHING—
The sound was neither loud nor shrill. It was a singular, pure vibration that resonated through the teeth and bones of every living soul within a hundred miles.
From the dark mouth of the scabbard, three inches of silver steel emerged.
Then, the world lost its color.
The frozen wind, the drifting embers, the vast expanse of the sky—all of it collapsed into an abyssal, blinding monochrome. The infinite reservoir of spiritual energy within Shaurya's dantian did not merely flow; it detonated, flooding through his severed meridians like a raging, incandescent ocean. The Sudarshan Chakra on his forehead spun with dizzying, violent velocity, its golden geometry expanding into colossal, interlocking celestial wheels that spanned the entire firmament.
His right hand moved.
DRAW.
The Meteorite Sword cleared its sheath in a single, flawless horizontal arc.
It was not a slash. It was a localized extinction.
