"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Azkarath's laughter detonated across the crater like reality itself was choking on poison.
His clawed hand plunged into his own chest.
Not hesitating. Not flinching.
Just drove straight through obsidian armor with the kind of determination usually reserved for people who'd already accepted death and decided to make it count.
*SQUELCH.*
The sound made even battle-hardened warriors grimace.
He tore free something that pulsed with concentrated void energy, his own heart writhing in his grip like a living thing that desperately wanted to stay attached to its original owner.
Reality screamed.
Not metaphorically.
The air itself made sounds that suggested existence was filing formal complaints about workplace safety violations while simultaneously lacking the proper forms.
"What the—"
Thor's execution strike froze mid-swing.
Because across the battlefield, Anthalion's dissolving essence suddenly reformed with terrible purpose.
