The deafening echo of the snapped fingers rippled outward, carrying the supreme, infallible weight of divine judgement across the entirety of the Fringes. Where there had once been a screeching, chaotic maelstrom of primordial Rot and a manic, power-hungry goddess, there was now only a profound, echoing emptiness.
Fenice was gone. The absolute erasure of her existence triggered an immediate, magnificent chain reaction across the decaying sector of the Sacred Land.
Without the anchor of her concentrated dark magic to sustain it, the suffocating, toxic atmosphere of the Astral Slums began to rapidly destabilise. The heavy stench of rusting iron, coagulated blood, and rotting ozone simply evaporated, scrubbed clean from the celestial plane by the lingering, purifying warmth of Noir's golden starlight.
