A tremor rippled through the battlefield as the aftermath unfolded. The world stood broken, the air thick with distortion, the ground warped into jagged layers of collapsing reality.
The reach of Error stretched for nearly a hundred meters, a chaotic scar where existence itself had forgotten how to hold together. Space flickered between form and void, fragments of land floating in suspended confusion, before all motion froze just shy of Zarach.
The sphere of silver strings expanded in a blinding flash, its radiant weave enveloping the sky like the bloom of a dying star.
Every thread sang, straining against the distortion, while within that argent storm, Alex's twin blades carved their answer.
Encased in veils of silent severance, the two blades cleaved through everything that came at them, the twisted reality, the roaring light, and the sphere's countless cords.
