It didn't burn. It didn't feel like the boiling acid vats of the Vanguard Syndicate or the scorching, bloody magma of Tartarus. It was an absolute, terrifying numbness. The white light was pure, unadulterated formatting code. The moment it touched the outer layers of his giant black leather coat, it didn't just damage the fabric—it explicitly told the universe that the fabric had never existed in the first place.
His massive arms plunged into the white wave. Instantly, the black static making up his forearms was wiped clean, replaced by a smooth, featureless void.
"Oh, you have got to be shitting me!" Sebastian yelled, his eyes widening behind his continent-sized porcelain mask. "This is the worst exfoliation treatment I've ever had! You're taking off way too much off the top!"
