The gravity surged again.
Hundreds of times stronger.
The air thickened, almost solid.
It pressed against bone, muscle, breath.
The reinforced floor groaned beneath us.
Runes ignited in rapid succession, struggling to stabilize the strain.
Stone cracked.
Then healed.
Again.
Again.
I should have been crushed.
I wasn’t.
Excitement flooded my veins.
My pupils shifted—light blue, sharp, luminous.
Aura rolled off my body in tight, controlled waves.
Not exploding outward.
Clinging close.
Reinforcing every movement.
For the first time—
I leaned into it.
No hesitation.
No fear.
BAM!
Fist collided with my brother’s.
Shock rippled through my arm.
Bone rattled.
BAM!
BAM!
Kicks collided mid-air.
Elbows clashed.
Knees struck.
Every exchange—brutal.
Precise.
Skill against skill.
Instinct against instinct.
No wasted movement under this pressure.
Every step demanded intent.
Every strike carried consequence.
We weren’t sparring anymore.
We were testing limits.
Azharyon’s smile vanished.
Replaced by focus.
Good.
I ducked under a sweeping kick.
Drove forward—shoulder-first.
He twisted.
Countered with a downward strike that grazed my collarbone.
Pain flared.
I welcomed it.
Pain meant growth.
> [System Notice] This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Gravitational Stress Threshold: Exceeded
Adaptive Synchronization: Ongoing
Accessible Power Output: Stabilizing…
The world narrowed.
Sound dulled.
All that remained—motion.
Impact.
Breath.
My blood roared.
Not violently.
Not recklessly.
With clarity.
Each heartbeat aligned with movement.
Each pulse sharpened control.
Azharyon slid back.
Boots carving trenches through stone.
His eyes widened—just a fraction.
“You’re enjoying this,” he realized.
I grinned.
Under 2,500-fold gravity—
I was alive.
Somewhere deep beneath the seals—
Something ancient watched.
Waiting.