RUMBLE!
A bolt of orange lightning surged down from the heavens, striking the Manifestation dead center.
It was the sixth bolt.
Max braced himself, half-expecting the statue to tremble or fracture. But like all the others before it, the Manifestation stood firm—unmoving, unaffected.
He exhaled, shoulders relaxing just a bit.
"One more…" he whispered.
RUMBLE!
Before he could even finish that thought, another bolt descended.
This time, it was red—bright and blazing, screaming through the sky like the wrath of a furious god.
It slammed into the colossal figure with a thunderous crack that echoed across the entire Mourning Depths.
And still—
Nothing.
The statue did not flinch.
No cracks. No fractures. No signs of damage.
Max stared in awe.
Seven bolts. Each one more powerful than the last. And yet, his Manifestation endured it all.
Unbroken.
Unyielding.
Max's lips parted, breath caught in his throat.
Was it over?
Had he survived the Judgment of the World?
