The collapse dragged them into a vortex of stone and dust—but neither fell like mortals.
Kaelith twisted midair, his cloak of Sovereign force snapping outward like a banner of dominion. Each falling slab froze in place around him, orbiting, controlled, refusing to obey gravity without his leave. The broken floor became his weapons, his walls, his throne-in-fall.
Leon dropped like a blade. His body didn't cut through the air—it fractured it, Fifth Pulse detonations ricocheting with every movement. Each rebound bent gravity's pull, letting him blur in jagged arcs around Kaelith's floating fortress.
The warlord's voice thundered, even through the storm:"You can steal my steps——but you cannot seize my law!"
The slabs obeyed. They spun, collided, crashed into one another in perfect sequence, forcing Leon into narrowing gaps. Each piece moved as if Kaelith's thoughts alone had shaped the battlefield.
But Leon didn't fight the law.He refused it.
