A dark swell of anger boils beneath her shell - this thing dares categorize her as an entity that somehow, inconceivably, is not the truly supreme and all-powerful being that she is? She wishes more than ever that she could strike at it, bring it to its knees as is its place, but she has made her oath and Illyria holds to her oaths.

"I have traversed many worlds such as this." The words bubble out in a darkened hiss and she prowls closer, noting the physical damage to the principality's shell. Unlike hers, largely, it appears that the thing's shell can be externally injured. It also seems unperturbed by the obvious display of its weaknesses, however, so she calls no attention to them. Yet.

"There was a time when I traveled the many dimensions with ease. This is no different." Perhaps not of the God-King's own volition, but this can be remedied. Illyria is certain; surely the fractured, rippling raw edges of energy in this place can be harnessed to her will. She will not consider the alternative. Such a thing would be unacceptable.