When the star reignited, a new pressure arose, different from the crushing weight of the reality-ending presence of Rowan. It was the dense, potent, pregnant pressure of a beginning. It was the feeling inside a star a nanosecond before ignition.
The gathered immortals and pantheons remained prostrate, not in reverence, but in catatonic shock.
His first footstep had not just sent a ripple of power that signaled that Rowan could end all of Reality as he wished, it also left the Arena a fractured, blackened wasteland, scarred by the mere weight of his footfall.
Telmus had expended all his power and battled at the level of the Primordials, but he had only sent cracks across the Arena, and unlike every single life inside Reality, Telmus had not fallen to his knees, but he stood, body shaking, and his mind blank. A light gust of breeze would blow him to the ground, but Rowan was not focused on him.
Rowan took his next steps, and the pressure of a new beginning exploded.
