It was like the sky came crashing down on him.
That was the only way Mike could describe it. A power so mighty, so suffocating, it stripped him of every sense, every shred of orientation.
He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. It wasn't even a spell—no runes, no incantation, no embellishment—just raw, undiluted mana, pure and overwhelming.
The moment it entered the room, it engulfed him like a tidal wave, slamming into his body and sending him crashing to the floor.
The impact was violent, marble splintered beneath him, groaning and cracking under the sheer force with which he hit it.
His eyes bled. His ears bled. The pressure didn't let up for a second. It pushed him deeper and deeper into the floor as though the mana itself sought to bury him alive.
His bones creaked under the weight, it felt as though he were being compressed, like metal between industrial presses.
