At the heart of the shimmering veil, a black vortex churned—a cancerous swirl of elemental chaos, where fire, wind, water, earth, light, and darkness warred for dominance.
Orion knew this phenomenon all too well. It was a World-Scar.
As a being who had shattered the walls between realms more than once, he understood what he was seeing. The demigod battle had done more than just level the landscape; it had torn a hole in the very fabric of the Abyss. This chaotic barrier was the dimension's autoimmune response, a desperate attempt to cauterize the wound. Only an Abyssal Ruler could properly mend such damage.
A flicker of grim satisfaction sparked within him. The Scar was still here, which meant the Ruler hadn't noticed. Which meant the Abyssal Springhead might still be unclaimed. As to why the Ruler had been so negligent, Orion didn't dwell on it. Beings of that magnitude were likely lost in the depths of their own Divine Kingdoms, pursuing ambitions beyond mortal comprehension.
