Isylia waved her hand again, a casual, dismissive gesture that shattered the tragic image of the Stone-Bearer into a thousand motes of golden dust, like she was swatting a fly. The particles drifted away into the void, dissolving like a forgotten memory.
"Next," she said, her tone bored but relentless, like a museum tour guide who had given the same speech for a billion years and hated every tourist, particularly the dumbass right in front of her right now.
Just like before, the scene changed instantly.
The crushing, gravitational weight of the Titan Realm evaporated, lifting a burden off Sol's chest he hadn't realized he was carrying. But damn, he barely had time to breathe before the air itself went feral. As it was replaced by something far more volatile.
