The abyss shattered.
The spiral's colossal form convulsed as Asher's strike pierced its heart, the red flare of Dominion erupting through its endless coils. The force tore through layers of reality—each chain, each tooth, each screaming fragment of hunger breaking apart under the weight of his will.
The abyss buckled, folds of space crumpling like dying flesh. Rivers of molten rust cascaded down the collapsing walls as the spiral's body disintegrated, its countless links bursting outward in geysers of metal dust. The echo of the strike rolled through eternity, a crimson sun blooming in a pit that had never known light.
Asher drove deeper. The shockwave pressed against him from all sides, the raw pressure threatening to peel his skin apart—but he didn't yield. His scythe burned through the collapsing core, dragging the remains of the spiral's heart behind it like a comet tail. The storm of bloodlight thickened around him, forming a vortex that swallowed the dying abyss whole.
