He didn’t need to get close. The crowbar, still humming with the echo of the Multitudes' power, was a projectile. He threw it. It flew, a steel meteor, not at the Nihilanth’s head, but at the same nexus point that had undone the Chaos Champion. The crowbar struck true. The Nihilanth’s thousand glowing eyes went dark, and it too disintegrated into dust.
You landed softly, the crowbar reappearing in your hand, humming with a new power. The forge was silent once more, the servitors whirring back to life, their mechanical movements oblivious to the cosmic battle that had just transpired. Yaldabaoth stood still, its faceless helm turned toward you, its gaze now a satisfied nod. “Excellent,” it said without words. “You have proven you can command your selves. But what if you cannot command the field of battle?” The ancient entity's hands lowered, and the very ground of the forge began to tear. The red plains of Mars melted away, replaced by the suffocating, toxic atmosphere of Xen, with its floating platforms and humming creatures. The battle was no longer just in the forge. The battle was in your mind.