Thauron stood still.
Cold.
Unflinching.
His towering figure cast long, silent shadows, the folds of his existence unmoving as he gazed down at the thing before him- the Living Collapse.
Slowly, deliberately, he shook his head, a gesture filled with the heavy disdain of Finality.
"If a Living Paradox were here," Thauron said, his voice a low rumble of certainty, "then a creature like you would have long since been dead."
His words fell with the weight of truth, not rushed, but precise, each syllable woven with the power of inevitability.
Across from him, the Living Collapse tilted its head, the movement smooth and grotesque all at once. And then it twisted- a mockery of thought, a cruel imitation of life. It shook its head, not in denial, but as if correcting a mistaken child.
It spoke, voice thick and distorted, dripping with the slow rot of ancient collapse.
"Of course," it said, the words slithering through the air, "of course, I would be dead."
