The adrenaline of the Deep Down faded, leaving Zane sitting on a crate in the centre of the Sump Plaza, staring at his hands.
He had sealed a god-prison.
He had fought an army of faceless monsters. He had climbed a chain out of hell.
And yet, he felt... clumsy.
Wren walked over, tossing him a canteen of clean water.
She looked critical.
"You fight like a drunk bear," she said, sitting on the edge of his throne.
Zane took a drink. "I survived."
"You tanked," Wren corrected. "You used your fancy Dead Weight to absorb hits that should have killed you, and you burned enough Essence to power the Grinders for a week just to make a wall. That works against mindless Hollows. It won't work against Voke."
Zane winced. The memory of the Exterminator Commander dismantling him in seconds was
