Kelaric's expression turned ugly.
He clearly wasn't willing to accept failing like this, so he gathered power again—several times stronger than before—and drove it down through his palm into the altar with brutal force.
This time, the runes on the altar lit up again.
But the result was even worse.
The runes glowed, yes, but the altar no longer had the ability to convert that power into the structure needed to open a passage. Energy churned inside it, collapsing, scattering, leaking out in streams—yet no true dimensional rift formed.
In the end, the light dimmed.
The whole altar fell silent again.
Zyraeth stood to the side, watching the entire process. At last, he let out a slow breath. He stepped forward and lightly patted Kelaric on the shoulder. There wasn't any blame in his voice—more the calm of someone who'd already reached a conclusion.
"This altar's been abandoned for too long," he said.
