(Cyrus Pov)
During this process, I was finally able to feel what my own gravitational field truly felt like. Whenever I moved a limb, I could sense the distortions in the opposing celestial body's field of influence. Even though my movements were minuscule compared to the immense celestial body and its gravitational output, I could still perceive that space was being warped to a degree.
I had no way of knowing how much time had passed in this void. It was nearly impossible to make an accurate guess, as the rift resided in a different space-time than what I was used to. But in this moment, I didn't care. I was losing myself in the meditation I had subjected myself to—it was as if I had finally found the key to this power, slowly unlocking more of its secrets as time went on. From a young age, I had understood that every Fate Constellation granted Starbound certain innate abilities that could be developed through rigorous training. For the Solaris Constellation, it was the ability to see in different spectrums of light, such as infrared—something my father frequently used.
Until now, I had never truly grasped what that innate ability could be for me. The concept of gravity was complex, filled with countless moving parts that made it difficult to break down into its simplest form. Being on a planet, where I was constantly subjected to gravity, didn't help either. My body handled it instinctively, much like breathing. But here, in the void, I could finally put everything into proper perspective.
I could now feel the different fields of influence surrounding every object. I understood that anything with mass had its own gravity, and I realized that, generally, the greater the mass, the stronger its gravitational pull. But there was still one lingering question in my mind. I knew my core was unique—by nature, it was a miniature black hole, a dense mass that required the absorption of other celestial bodies to maintain its existence. Celestial cores from astral behemoths fit this requirement, which made me wonder: could I sense the movements of astral behemoths or even other Starbound through the gravitational fields their cores produced?
Unfortunately, I had few opportunities to test this theory—and the only available subjects happened to be slithering incarnations of destruction.
Knowing I had no other options, I decided I had learned all I could from meditating within this celestial body's gravitational field. It was time to put my knowledge into practice. My core was nearing half-empty, and I needed to act. I made the decision to break my deep meditation and search for a way to get closer to the clashing astral behemoths. As my eyes adjusted to the faint light sources of the void, I was reminded of just how daunting this task truly was.
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The Voidfang Basilisk and the Nebula Drake moved at speeds that were difficult for me to track with my eyes alone. These creatures were beyond my comprehension—I couldn't even get an accurate read on their cores. But I knew one thing for certain: I was outclassed.
During the lulls in their battle, I could tell one was beginning to gain the upper hand. The pitch-black serpent looked poised and ready to strike again, while the prismatic dragon's breath had grown labored, its form flickering in and out of sight as its scales struggled to maintain their radiance.
Something wasn't right. The Nebula Drake was currently radiating more cosmic energy than the Voidfang, yet it was losing despite its overwhelming cosmic presence. "Why? This doesn't make any sense," I thought to myself.
As if responding to my thoughts, the Voidfang coiled its massive body and launched itself forward with explosive speed, striking its opponent once again. This time, the Nebula Drake wasn't fast enough to dodge. The Voidfang clamped its fangs onto the dragon's midsection, causing another shockwave to ripple through the void as it attempted to pierce the cosmic barrier shielding the prismatic behemoth.
The shockwave was exactly what I needed. Pieces of the shattered platform were now within reach. Something deep within me urged me to get closer to the battling behemoths—another instinct told me I needed to help the one that was losing.
Summoning cosmic energy to counteract the gravitational pull of the celestial body nearby, I coiled my body just as the basilisk had done and propelled myself off the nearest piece of debris that was behind me. As I hurtled through the void, I felt the pull of the celestial body weaken with each passing second. It wasn't long before I reached the next piece. Moving in a zigzagging pattern, I bounded from fragment to fragment, steadily closing the distance until I was within earshot of the titanic battle.
Now that I was closer, I could see things more clearly than before. I noticed a pattern—each time the Nebula Drake unleashed a cosmic energy-based attack, the Voidfang nullified it. The attacks were simply absorbed by the void-infused horns of the basilisk.
"This makes sense now," I realized. "The Nebula Drake is expending more energy because it's desperately trying to find a weak point in the basilisk. But the Voidfang is its natural counter—it makes the drake's strongest attacks almost meaningless."
At this rate, the fight wouldn't last much longer. If the battle continued this way, the Voidfang would emerge victorious.
"But how can I help?" I thought, scanning the basilisk for any vulnerabilities. Anything I attempted would be a gamble—if I failed, I'd be stranded in the void with no means of escape.
As I searched for an opening, something caught my attention. Every time the basilisk absorbed an attack from the dragon, an orb of void energy forming behind the serpent grew larger. With each absorption, the serpent's body expanded, and its flow of cosmic energy became increasingly dominant.
This wasn't just a battle of endurance—the Voidfang was stockpiling power. If this continued, the Nebula Drake wouldn't just lose—it would be annihilated, and I would be next on its hit list.