I watched.
The Lattices of Light swirled over my skin, capturing every detail with cold precision.
Calculated.
Measured.
The Living Collapse moved like a flaw stitched into existence itself, a wound too ancient to heal. Its nature was impossibility made flesh, a being no simple paradox could touch.
A hundred percent Paradoxical Resistance.
Untouchable.
Against it, even the concept of resistance seemed a hollow jest. And with seventy-five percent Living Resistance woven into its frame, no Living Thing at the level of Primarchs could even hope to scar it. Primarchs, who clothed themselves in the weavings of True Sources and Lattices, would strike against it as blades against polished stone and find themselves the ones broken.
There was only one viable option.
Death.
The Dead, or those entwined in Collapse and End, might just might stand a chance.
But theory was no shield.
It had to be tested.
And yet...
