Dyllan tried to steady himself, and moved his left hand back toward his Justice - holding it over the border between the bat’s handle and its barrel. Exhaling sharply, Dyllan used his left hand to push his Trait down into the crack he had made and focused all the strength he could muster into its handle with his right. A splitting pain washed over Dyllan when he did this, lasting just long enough to restore and sharpen his senses.

For a second time, power surged through the rift Dyllan’s Justice had smashed into the mindscape. Jagged obsidian used to come from the cracks cut open by Dyllan’s Rage, but these cracks were not made with his Rage. Thorned vines made of glowing red light shot out from every rift big enough to release them. They were just as sharp and destructive as the obsidian born from Dyllan’s rage, but they were not indiscriminate and violent. Instead, the vines flew with precision, curving towards their targets and phasing harmlessly through anything that got in their way.

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Most of the vines aimed themselves at Dyllan’s Nightmare, piercing through it then changing course to wrap around the monstrous lump of trauma - entangling it and holding it in place. However, a few dozen of the vines curved toward floating chunks of concrete. They phased through the chunks they targeted, but their thorns caught the black hatred that slept hidden within them and ripped it out.

For seconds that held the weight of hours, the vines raced around assaulting anything that carried the taint of hatred. By the time they had calmed, they had already wrapped the mindscape in a web of thorns - patches of gooey hate skewered and stuck throughout it like flies in a web.