Despite the strangeness of Urin's ability, Zarazel was no novice to horror. He had lived for hundreds of millions of years—had battled cosmic beasts, divine tyrants, and entities that preyed upon reality itself. There was little left in existence that could surprise him.
So when Urin's power began to unravel his flesh with its mysterious explosions, he did what he always did—observe, analyze, and understand.
Within seconds, comprehension dawned.
"You don't trigger explosions," Zarazel said, his voice steady as he stared at her hands. "Whatever you touch becomes an explosive."
A flash of surprise—and perhaps admiration—crossed Urin's eyes. Then she nodded, smiling faintly.
"You are right," she said. "This is my Neo-Angel power, a gift from the Ancient One—Detonator. Whatever I touch, I transform. Its molecular essence shifts into something unstable, volatile. If I have enough time and energy…"
