The plaza was a nightmare made of stone and shadow.
The air didn't just feel cold; it felt thick, wet, and heavy, like breathing through a cloth soaked in old blood. Every breath scraped the inside of my throat. The black liquid bubbling up from the stone tiles had risen past our ankles.
It wasn't water or oil. It was a nasty slime that clung to my boots like tar and hissed whenever it touched my skin.
Just a few minutes ago, the place had been a dead tomb. But as the towering Mind-Concept Guardian broke through its millennia-old stasis, the ceiling had cracked, weeping dust and ancient debris over the hundreds of panicked students trapped below.
Down in the center of the ruins, the situation was a total mess.
