The forced re-alignment of Kyle's shadow channels felt like someone was pouring molten lead directly through his nervous system.
He lay coiled on the floor of the nullification vault, his body convulsing in silent agony as black, wispy tendrils of shadow magic bled out from his pores. The anti-mana runes lining the cell walls hummed aggressively, glowing a hot, angry gold as they attempted to absorb his dark essence. But Kyle's pure, desperate rage—combined with Snow's ruthless mathematical precision—forced the shadow core to overwrite the cell's suppression field through sheer, stubborn friction.
*CRACK!*
A web of thin fractures spiderwebbed across the thick glass wall of the confinement door.
"Rerouting complete..." Kyle gasped out, his voice a hoarse, bloody whisper.
