Rebecca had decided to go all out.
Darkness pulsed from her in slow, steady waves—a sovereign, suffocating force that twisted the very air. She wasn't tapping into the full depths of her power, not yet. But even half of her Law of Darkness was enough.
Enough to bring down a king.
The Law of Darkness—an abstract, eldritch principle—was not just power. It was dominion, mystery, and annihilation embodied. Only a scarce handful across the cosmos could even comprehend its nature, let alone wield it. And Rebecca? She didn't just wield it—she commanded it.
Her law devoured, corrupted, and concealed.
With devour, she could erase anything—creatures, attacks, even divine artifacts—into an abyss of nothingness, an infinite chasm of pitch black. And once consumed, these things didn't vanish entirely; they waited, suspended in her private void, ready to be summoned back at her will.
