A reincarnated cultivator conducted her harvest like a dancer. Miles above, the vantablack flood parted in all directions from where the Greater Colonizer had been as she twirled and spread her hands. Spiraling into a whirlpool that flung to the far arcs of the bubble they were in. Intent blooming through her spirit that had no doubts of her capability to do all this on the control area.
The anchoring stakes she'd placed during her Essence Breacher breakthrough - all six hundred and forty-three - had been designed to stabilize the golden spatial barrier against hurricane-force essence charged winds. But Space and Void shared a conceptual kinship that had made repurposing the probably too many sigilposts trivially simple. Space contained 'nothing' or 'something'... and Void was that very nothing given metaphysical form.
