The behemoth moved first.
Damian had expected slowness from something hundreds of miles wide. He had expected the ponderous weight of a mountain deciding to shift! What came instead was a body that folded space around its own bulk and arrived, the vast dark hide suddenly filling his vision, one enormous limb sweeping through the vacuum toward him with force that bent the light around its edges.
He moved.
His new existence answered before his thoughts finished forming, the balance of a star living in his frame now, and he slid sideways through the dark as the limb passed through where he had been. The wake of it alone struck him. Pressure rolled off the missed blow and hammered into his side, and he felt his star-tempered body absorb what would have shattered the old him into fragments!
HUUM!
So that was the scale of this.
Good!
"Coronal Wrath," he said, and the outer fire of his existence answered.
