The light around him began to condense, forming a swirling vortex of pure photonic energy. The shattered remains of the pit were illuminated in a harsh, unforgiving glare, showing every drop of blood and every fragment of bone in vivid, terrifying detail.
Apollo wasn't just angry; he was ascending into a state of pure, unadulterated wrath. The light was no longer just light; it was a weapon, a judgment, and a promise of total annihilation.
The air in the cavern didn't just vibrate; it screamed. Apollo had transcended mere anger; he had become a living supernova.
His eyes were no longer human; they were two pitted wells of blinding, white-hot radiance that seemed to burn the very shadows out of the corners of the room.
"You think you've won, Tremor?" Apollo's voice was a tectonic rumble, layered with a godlike resonance. "You think you can break the world and walk away?"
