The central spire of the Great Archive loomed ahead like a monumental spire of condensed history, its surface carved from raw obsidian that had been polished until it cast no reflection. Around its base, the rivers of liquid emerald ink swirled in high-velocity whirlpools, throwing up thick vapors of unrefined, glowing green mana that hissed against the dark wooden hull of the Void-Galleon. The parchment clouds had gathered into a tight, impenetrable dome above the throne room, their fibrous surfaces pulsing with the frantic, terminal calculations of a dying constellation.
Ren Hanshin stood at the forward point of the forecastle, his boots planted into the scorched timber deck plates.
[Synchronization: 82.3%]
[Level: 133]
[Sovereign Core Threshold Limit!!]
[Status: The Sovereign Anomaly]
