Jormungandr could not help but grin—broad, fanged, and filled with savage delight—as he watched the river of golden magma consume the city below. The liquid radiance burned so brightly it lit the night sky like a second sun. Entire buildings vanished in seconds, steam and smoke erupting into the heavens, blotting out the stars.
Thousands of soldiers and aristocrats alike perished in moments. Screams rose, then fell silent. The ancient streets of Zanu City, once bustling with military precision and aristocratic decadence, were now melting into slag.
The small yellow cat's success was not simply the result of brute force, but of cunning, science, and mastery. A fusion of alchemy and advanced magic formations had allowed him to construct a devastating artifact—one capable of hijacking the function of the Interstellar Teleportation Formation deep in the city's core.
