The ground beneath my feet liquified. Wrath was no longer a warrior; he was a walking tectonic event. The magma veins on his colossal body erupted, spewing geysers of superheated rock into the vacuum, creating a localized atmosphere of vaporized stone. His aura expanded, a chaotic, burning sphere of influence that turned the grey lunar plains into a boiling sea of glass and fire. He was charging his core for a final, suicidal release, a supernova of miasma and rage.
I had seconds. Maybe less.
I couldn't get close. The heat alone was enough to strip the shielding from a starship. The miasmic pressure was a physical wall, pushing me back, grinding my Grey Divinity against its chaotic friction. Any physical attack would just trigger the explosion sooner.
