Bizz is thrown to the floor as a quake bigger than all the others before it rips through the landscape. The soil of the town rips apart as slick erupts forth, powered by the art it was fed.

Bizz and Zapp gather by the windows. The one story building they used as their base of operation now scaled forth into the air, higher than the castle, higher than the clouds.

And it was not alone.

The shanty town had skyscrapers, each one casting a shadow so great that the small city below it was ushered into darkness.

What was left of the city, anyway.

Many houses were destroyed by the masses of metal, ripped apart. Any valuables consumed.

A notail approaches the machine, not with intent, but with a sense of confusion. Upon touching it, the notail changes, becoming a living piece of artwork.

An alien wastes no time, leaping into the coils of the machine.

What comes out, looks what what went in. But changed. Changed forever.

They were not like the products that came out of the gacha machine. This creature was intelligent still, and larger than any of those toys.

It was not a disgraced god, but one that was in training.