Nyrita stands at one of the main roads of the Land of Wrath and Roads. She shades her eyes with one hand, watching. Ahead of her, the road intersects with another. This is only really visible by the raging sandstorm where the two meet. She taps the toe of one shoe on the road, thinking. Then she nods, and starts to run. Jog, then run, then sprint, defying the heaviness of the road that sets into her bones - tearing the road up, even, each footstep heavy and cracking the very stone beneath her. She dives into the storm, and reaches for its seething heart, plunging her hand into it and tearing it free. She squeezes it in her hand and the storm fades, the Rage stolen. But Nyrita has more work to do, leaking black lightning, and she doesn’t slow down, running ahead to the next intersection. She follows a route throughout the entirety of her land. Each nexus of Rage swallowed keeps her going, fills her with the unpleasant truth even as her lungs burn and her legs ache - she can do this. This is possible. The idea that it’s hopeless is a comforting lie, that would stop her from doing what needs to be done. She just needs to keep. Going. She staggers to a stop at the end of her circuit, and turns. Behind her is a behemoth of flesh and steel, a giant and a tank made one massive being. At some point, Jagganoth had started chasing her. But that’s fine. She’s been chased before. There wasn’t any change in what needs to be done. The Rage gave her that insight too. It gives her a lot of insight, really. It hurts, too, threatening to shake her apart. Not the first time she’s done this, eat a land’s power until she split apart at the seams. Jagganoth leans down, and in a voice of red hot metal, says “CHOOSE.” Keep it, this apocalyptic fury? This power? Nyrita takes a deep breath, then exhales. She reaches up, and smites Jagganoth. An outlet, this time. It flows out of her, all at once - but there are no orderly roads anymore, destroyed as they all were in her marathon. It all flows out into the land as a whole. No bunching up, no unhealthy concentrations. Focusing on the bad is, too, an unreality. Sometimes the truth is more than just the ugliness. Nyrita staggers to one knee. The land sizzles with the power, and then goes brighter and brighter until everything goes white.