Obliteration

> > “Obliteration,” Tia said in a calm voice, “needs to draw heat out of objects to use for destroying things. Sunlight touching his skin works too—not as efficiently, but since it’s persistent, it’s an easy source for him.”

> > “Before he destroyed Houston and each of the other cities he’s annihilated, he sat in the sunlight for seven days drawing energy,” I said. “He then released it in one burst. Comparing how much he’s glowing now to the pictures from Houston, we can guess how long he’s been doing this.”

> Chapter 29, firefight

Obliteration was a monster—more a force of nature than a man. He’d left Houston in rubble, murdering Epics and regular people alike. Albuquerque after that. Then San Diego.

Chapter 11 page 79 Firefight

> > He’d melted Houston. Literally. He’d spent weeks sitting in the center of town bare-chested like some ancient god, drawing heat out of the air, basking in the sunlight. He’d stored heat up, then released it all at once. I’d seen photos, read the descriptions. Asphalt turned to soup. Buildings burst into flames. Stones melted to magma.

> Chapter 12, Firefight

* Description of his impact on Kansas city

> > I crouched down, rubbing my fingers on the smooth ground. It was still warm, and probably would be for days. The blast had warped stone and, in an instant, turned buildings into molten mountains of steel. The ground was covered in little ridges of glass, like frozen waves, none taller than an inch. Somehow they conveyed the feeling of an incredible wind blowing from the center point of the destruction.

> Chapter 11, Calamity