The world felt heavier with every breath.

Rhys’ chain burned — black flames slithering along the iron links, flickering between crimson and violet. His heart pounded, but not from fear. Something deeper, something rawer, roared beneath his skin.

The Eshe User’s gaze fixed on the chain, his smirk slipping into something more calculating. His violet tattoo pulsed again — the gravity in the room shifting ever so slightly, like the air itself was holding its breath.

Then the fight began.

The Eshe User moved first.

With a flick of his wrist, the air around Rhys’ legs condensed — an invisible weight dragging him down mid-step. Rhys staggered, his knee buckling as if the stone floor was trying to swallow him whole.

He didn’t fall.

Instead, Rhys twisted, using the momentum of the added gravity to swing his chain in a low arc. The black flames hissed as they licked the ground, trailing a burning crescent through the air.

The Eshe User sidestepped — fluid and controlled — his gravity lightening just enough to carry him out of range, his feet barely touching the floor.

Rhys didn’t let up.

He pivoted, flinging the chain again, this time aiming higher — for the Eshe User’s chest.

Another flick of the wrist.

The air above the Eshe User grew dense — the chain’s trajectory bending mid-swing, pulled down by a sudden gravitational shift. It crashed into the stone beside him with a clang, sending shards of rock skittering across the floor.

He’s controlling the weight of everything I touch…

Rhys’ grip tightened on the chain. His body was moving faster than his thoughts — but not fast enough.

The Eshe User capitalized.

He raised his hand again, and the air around Rhys collapsed.

Rhys felt his ribs crush inward — an unbearable pressure slamming him to his knees. His body screamed, the black flames on his chain flickering, struggling to stay alive.

The Eshe User stepped closer, his tattoo glowing brighter now. “You’ve merely just awakened,” he said softly, “You still aren’t getting past me.”

Rhys grit his teeth. The flames along his chain sputtered — then flared.

He shifted his grip, coiling the burning chain around his forearm. The heat didn’t hurt — it seemed to merge with his skin, the black and crimson fire pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

‘Use it. Don’t fight the weight — move with it.’

When the Eshe User’s gravity pressed down harder, Rhys didn’t resist.

He fell forward—deliberately this time—letting the sudden shift hurl him into a roll. As he tumbled, he flung the chain again, using the added weight to whip it faster.

The chain shot out like a black flame serpent, aimed at the Eshe User’s legs. The Eshe User jumped, using his Aspect to make himself weightless for a brief second.

That’s exactly what Rhys wanted.

Mid-air, the Eshe User had no traction—no anchor.

Rhys yanked the chain back and spun, catching a broken piece of stone with the flames. The rock ignited on contact, smouldering black as the fire clung to it unnaturally.

Without hesitation, Rhys flung the burning stone directly at his opponent.

The Eshe User's eyes widened—too late.

The stone struck him in the shoulder, sending him hurtling sideways.

He hit the ground hard, rolling to regain his balance, his Aspect already pulling him heavier to steady himself.

But Rhys was still on the offence.

The weight on his body fluctuated, but he adjusted, using the changes in gravity to fuel his own momentum. He darted forward, dragging the burning chain behind him like a trail of fire.

The Eshe User rose, his tattoo flaring bright. He thrust his hand forward, sending a sudden gravitational wave rippling toward Rhys — an attempt to crush him mid-charge.

Stolen novel; please report.

But Rhys wasn’t stopping.

He let the wave hit, feeling his bones groan under the pressure — but he pushed through, twisting his body at the last second to swing the chain in a diagonal arc.

The black flames roared — a serpent of fire and fury.

The Eshe User raised his arm to block—gravity weighing his limbs like armour—

But the chain didn’t just hit.

The black flames bit.

The moment the chain made contact, the flames didn’t bounce off — they clung to the Eshe User’s arm, devouring the fabric of his uniform and scorching his skin.

He let out a sharp hiss of pain. His control faltered.

The gravity in the room wavered.

Rhys saw his opening.

Without thinking, he grabbed the loose end of the chain with his other hand — both arms burning now — and twisted his body, preparing for one final, devastating strike.

The flames surged, turning black and crimson, alive and violent. The black flames roared as Rhys lunged—

But the Eshe User was already moving.

The moment Rhys’ flaming chain struck his arm, the man didn’t recoil—he used the pain. His Aspect pulsed again, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, the gravity around his wounded arm increased tenfold.

The added weight forced his arm down, snuffing out the fire against the cold stone floor—like slamming a lid on a roaring flame.

Before Rhys could react, the Eshe User countered.

He stepped in close—too close for Rhys to swing the chain—and drove a knee into Rhys' ribs, the strike heavier than it should have been.

Rhys coughed, the air exploding from his lungs, but he caught himself mid-stumble.

He twisted his chain around his fist, wrapping the burning metal tight, the black and crimson flames licking his knuckles.

No more wild swings. Now, the chain was a weapon for close combat.

A flame-coated brass knuckle.

Rhys ducked low, throwing a fiery punch at the Eshe User’s ribs—but the man moved with unnatural grace, lightening his body just enough to slide out of reach.

And then the counter came.

A downward palm strike—heavy as a hammer—aimed straight for Rhys' shoulder.

Rhys saw it coming, barely. He shifted at the last second, the strike grazing his collarbone instead of shattering it.

The pain was still brutal. Like a lead block slamming into his skin.

The Eshe User pressed the attack.

He flowed into a series of sharp, controlled movements—each strike carrying more weight than it should. A jab to Rhys’ side. A spinning elbow aimed at his jaw. A sweeping kick enhanced by a sudden gravity spike, dragging Rhys' leg down mid-dodge.

He wasn’t just fighting Rhys—he was controlling the very space they fought in.

But Rhys wasn’t out of tricks either. He had control over his body that he never had before.

This is new. My body — the air around me — I understand it now.

The chain flared again, his tattoo burning hotter.

When the next gravity-powered punch came, Rhys didn’t dodge—he stepped into it.

He met the Eshe User’s fist with his own, the black flames along his knuckles colliding with the crushing force of the gravity Aspect. For a split second, the weight pressing against Rhys’ hand felt unbearable, like his bones would snap.

But then the flames surged.

The impact sent both of them staggering back.

Rhys’ hand throbbed, his knuckles screaming in pain—but the Eshe User wasn’t unscathed either. His arm, still bearing scorch marks from the chain, twitched slightly.

They locked eyes.

The next exchange was faster.

Rhys ducked and weaved—each dodge smoother than the last—his body growing more attuned to the shifting gravity.

He struck back with short, precise punches—using the chain as a makeshift knuckle-duster—targeting the Eshe User’s ribs and shoulders.

The Eshe User fought back with gravity-enhanced strikes—every palm thrust and kick carrying the weight of an avalanche.

But something had shifted.

Rhys was adapting.

Each time the Eshe User increased gravity, Rhys flowed with it—using the added weight to add momentum to his strikes instead of fighting against it.

A sudden flare of black flame lit the air as Rhys swung his chain-wrapped fist, catching the Eshe User across the jaw.

The impact sent the man staggering back—his calm demeanour cracking for the first time.

Rhys didn’t let up.

He surged forward, driving a knee into the Eshe User’s stomach—then twisting into a brutal elbow strike aimed for his temple.

For the first time, Rhys was in control.

The Eshe User cursed under his breath, his tattoo flaring desperately.

“Ronoah!” he shouted.

Rhys’ stomach dropped.

From the blur of fighting prisoners and guards, a new figure materialized—a shadow slicing through the chaos with impossible speed.

I guess this is Ronoah.

He was a blur—quick, precise—his short blade flickering like a serpent’s fang. His movements too clean to be a regular guard.

In a flash, Ronoah was at Rhys’ side, his blade slicing through the air—aimed straight for Rhys’ throat.

Rhys barely managed to twist away, the blade grazing his neck.

Now it was two against one.

Rhys barely kept up — the two Eshe Users moving in perfect sync.

The chain wrapped around his fist flared again, black and crimson flames licking at the air as he swung a burning punch at the Gravity User’s head.

He missed.

The Eshe User sidestepped, using a sudden gravity shift to pull Rhys’ swing off course.

And that’s when Ronoah struck with a flash of steel.

The blade shot toward Rhys’ throat — too fast to dodge.

Shit! No time to react.

The Gravity User doubled the weight around Rhys’ legs — rooting him in place like his bones had been fused to the floor.

He couldn’t move away.

The noisy hall suddenly fell silent as the blade arced down…