The sensation of the "deletion" wasn't a sudden end; it was an agonizingly slow unraveling.
Leo felt the ink like substance climb past his waist, not as a liquid, but as a series of microscopic needles rewriting his sensory input. The air tasted of burnt copper and old data. Every time he tried to breathe, his lungs felt like they were drawing in cold, sharp glass. Beside him, the holographic schematic of Nala’s mind flickered with violent bursts of red. She wasn't just being stored; she was being overwritten.
"Nala! Fight it!" Leo’s voice was a ragged whisper, the liquid now pressing against his chest.
Then, the world tilted.
The obsidian walls didn't just liquefy; they shattered into a million floating fragments of code. The darkness of the tower vanished, replaced by a blinding, ant
