[Dist isn't one to beat around the bush. He takes another deep breath, and leans his back against the counter where he was reading and writing earlier. He crosses his arms, keeping his head bowed and eyes away from Luke's. It's difficult to say, even when Dist supposedly doesn't care. It's always difficult to tell someone they can't do anything, that they're walking a single path, which crumbles along behind them. Nothing to go back to, and only one destination to reach.]

To put such a strain on your body, which is made entirely of unstable seventh fonons, will result in their collapse and separation. If the process is too far along, and the rate of fonon separation is too vast...little can be done to correct it.

You will die.