"No shit, can someone explain what the fuck Jake's doing here?"Cho Min Ho scowled, cursing Mani for swearing that the Jake in the middle of the central battlefield was the real deal.
And yet—there he was. As insane as it seemed, the guy lounging across from the supposedly invincible Celestial was a dead ringer for the leader of the Myrtharian Nerds.
The Celestial itself hovered a foot off the cracked flagstones: a tall, broad‑shouldered titan with sun‑browned skin stretched over granite muscle, slate‑gray eyes that looked carved from storm clouds, and a meticulously groomed beard dusted with premature silver. He wore no regal armor—just a sleeveless, earthen‑tone mantle belted at the waist—but ripples of elemental power rolled off him like heatwaves over desert stone, fine motes of grit orbiting his forearms with every measured breath.
The crushing aura rolling off Jake was just as undeniable; no knockoff could fake pressure that heavy.
