Chapter 17 · The Price of Power

"Stop pushing it, or you're going to pop like a balloon," Lyra snapped.

She didn't move her hand from my shoulder, but her grip tightened, pinning me against the cold stone wall of the corridor. I could feel the heat radiating off her palm, a sharp contrast to the freezing dampness of the Abyss Tower. I wasn't exactly in a position to argue—mostly because I was currently a semi-translucent blob of shadow with a flickering core.

"I can... handle it," I grunted. The words didn't come out as speech so much as a psychic vibration that made the air ripple.

Inside, it felt like someone was trying to shove a skyscraper through a keyhole. The power I'd devoured from the last three elites was screaming, a chaotic surge of god-tier energy trapped in a trash-tier shell. My form flickered, stretching violently toward the ceiling before snapping back like a rubber band.

"Handle what?" Lyra stepped closer, her face inches from mine. I could smell the sharp scent of ozone and old leather on her gear. Her eyes searched my core, her gaze narrow and suspicious. "You're glitching, Kael. Your body can't hold this much.