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... than the crushing gravity of the Avatar’s presence had ever been. The storm had broken. The violet clouds that had choked the sky for days were dissolving into wisps of harmless grey vapor, revealing a pale, indifferent sun.

Alvian sat amidst the wreckage of the dais, his chest heaving as he stared at the spot where the Avatar of Engels had shattered. The god was gone, reduced to a lingering, shimmering mist of high-density mana that tasted of ozone and ancient ice. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯� ...

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