The green light inside the high strategy room did not fade; it deepened, turning from a bright, erratic neon into a dense, opaque emerald fog that filled every corner of the chamber. The heavy air grew thick with the sharp, mineral scent of crushed copper and primordial ozone.
Lucien's long body remained suspended against the solid granite wall, his boots dangling an inch above the cold floor plates as the raw, unrefined energy of the Dragon's Eye continued to violently rewrite his anatomy.
The ancient artifact, buried deep within the fortress bedrock, was no longer just a power source; it had become an evolutionary catalyst, forcing its way through his neural pathways like molten glass.
Inside his mind, the white wall of imperial limestone that had blocked his cosmic archive for months was no longer solid. The green fluid was eating through the stones, dissolving the imperial characters with a loud, hissing friction that sounded like industrial acid poured over forged steel.
