By the time Runar finally arrived at the coordinates, the battle had already begun, forcing him to a complete halt at the outer edge of the distorted territory. What he saw through his golden-white eyes was enough to make any sane cultivator turn back and flee, because the space-time ahead wasn't merely cracked or strained by heavy attacks; it was fundamentally broken. Fractures of the void layered over one another like shattered mirrors, while shards of parallel timelines flickered in and out of existence in a dizzying display of collapsed reality. Entire stretches of the layer had been rewritten into overlapping folds of pure, unadulterated force, and residual runes burned in the air like living scars that refused to fade. Each of those lingering runes carried enough conceptual weight to crush a Multiversal being who stepped too close, turning the area into less of a battlefield and more of an absolute death zone where the only rule was to interfere and die.
