Distance mattered for those who had to make efforts to cross it, but not to evolvers, even more so to high-leveled ones, and certainly not to Lucas. His movement was instantaneous, like a displacement through space itself.
One moment, he was a few kilometers away, and the next, he was just outside of the shroud of magma.
The collision was worse this time, as if the previous one had been but just a probe.
Explosions like bombs going off happened again and again, and not just any bomb, but nuclear, or even high yield hydrogen bombs. The shockwaves turned everything too close into dust, before pushing whatever was in the distance even further away.
The dark emptiness turned into a festival as colors went off like fireworks. But in the middle of all, it was just fists clashing, bare, light brown ones, but as if the hardest spears in the world, and orangish red ones wrapped in flowing liquid that was heavy, and hot.
