The plaza shook again.
Not outward.
Inward.
Gilmuar stood perfectly still, axe lowered at his side, but the space around him was no longer obeying distance. Gravity layered over itself in silent recursion, pulling sound, light, and matter slightly closer with every passing second.
Kharos steadied his stance.
The void around his glaive sharpened, thinning existence into clean absence. Symbols along the weapon's shaft flickered once, then stabilized as he drew a slow breath.
Kharos: You are no longer measuring.
Gilmuar did not respond.
His eyes were fixed somewhere beyond Kharos, pupils slightly dilated, jaw set. The hum around him deepened, low and oppressive, like a planet rotating too close to collapse.
Kharos tightened his grip.
Kharos: Gilmuar.
That got a reaction.
Gilmuar looked at him.
Really looked.
Gilmuar: You said Gravitas users do not live long.
Kharos: Yes.
Gilmuar: That they either collapse.
Gilmuar: Or become something else.
The ground beneath Gilmuar's boots compressed further, stone flattening into a dark, glassy surface that reflected nothing. Dust around him fell straight down and vanished on contact.
Gilmuar: I wanted to know which one I was.
He stepped forward.
The plaza screamed.
Kharos moved instantly, void flaring as he erased the space between them and reappeared above Gilmuar, glaive already descending in a perfect vertical cut. The strike did not aim to slice.
It aimed to remove.
Gilmuar swung upward.
The axe met the glaive.
There was no impact.
No sound.
The collision bent reality inward so violently that Tier staggered back, blood trickling from his nose as pressure inverted for a split second.
Leona gasped.
Leona: That's too much.
The weapons locked.
Void ate gravity.
Gravity crushed void.
The air between them turned opaque, space folding into a dense knot that pulsed violently before tearing itself apart.
Kharos was thrown backward.
Not launched.
Pushed away by sheer mass.
He skidded across the plaza, boots carving trenches as he dragged the glaive down to stabilize himself. The headband hummed sharply, symbols burning brighter as it compensated.
Kharos: ...You are accelerating.
Gilmuar rolled his shoulder once.
Gravity followed the motion.
Gilmuar: I warned you.
He vanished.
Not by speed.
By weight.
Gravity collapsed inward and expelled him directly in front of Kharos, axe already swinging horizontally. The blade dragged compressed space behind it, forming a visible distortion that screamed as it moved.
Kharos twisted.
The glaive traced a sharp sigil through the air.
Absence bloomed.
The axe passed through the void pocket and missed.
But the gravity did not.
The residual pull snapped back violently, crushing the air around Kharos and slamming him into the ground hard enough to crater the plaza.
Kharos coughed.
Blood spilled beneath his headband.
For the first time, his voice carried strain.
Kharos: You will destroy this place.
Gilmuar landed nearby.
Slow.
Heavy.
Each step left a shallow depression that did not rebound.
Gilmuar: No.
Gilmuar: I won't.
He raised the axe again.
The hum deepened.
The air thickened enough that Leona dropped to one knee, breath hitching. Tier's tablet shattered in his hands as pressure warped the screen.
Cron stopped smiling.
Cron: ...This is the zone.
Gilmuar's voice lowered.
Not louder.
Denser.
Gilmuar: I can feel it.
Gilmuar: The point where everything stops pretending it's stable.
Kharos forced himself upright, void flaring erratically now as he widened the absence around his body.
Kharos: This is not a spar.
Gilmuar nodded once.
Gilmuar: I know.
The axe lifted higher.
The plaza darkened.
Not from shadow.
From compression.
Light bent inward, curving toward Gilmuar like it was being pulled into a well.
Gilmuar inhaled.
Slow.
Measured.
The world seemed to lean toward him.
Not fall.
Not break.
Lean.
Like everything inside the suspended plaza had made a quiet decision to move closer, to listen, to submit to whatever Gilmuar was becoming.
Dust that had been frozen in Biru's shadow barrier began to tremble. Fine grains stretched into thin vertical lines, crushed straight downward as gravity localized around Gilmuar's body. The air thickened in uneven pulses, pressure stacking inward instead of radiating outward.
Gilmuar's grip tightened around the axe.
His shoulders rose and fell once.
Slow.
Measured.
But his eyes were wrong.
Not focused.
Not wild.
Empty in the same way deep space is empty.
Kharos felt it before anything else changed.
The absence around him started to tear.
Not widen.
Tear.
Like void itself was being pulled too hard, stretched beyond its nature. His glaive vibrated faintly, symbols along its length flickering as the hollow around it lost coherence.
Kharos took a step back.
Then another.
Kharos: This is not refinement.
His voice stayed calm, but something beneath it shifted.
Kharos: This is collapse.
Gilmuar did not respond.
Gravity answered instead.
The ground beneath him compressed further, stone flattening into a mirror smooth plane that reflected nothing. The space around his legs darkened, density climbing fast enough that light itself began to curve unnaturally toward him.
Leona felt her chest tighten.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Leona: Gilmuar...
He did not look at her.
Tier's fingers froze mid movement on his tablet.
Numbers stopped updating.
Readings stopped existing.
Tier: That density spike is not stabilizing.
Tier swallowed.
Tier: He is not stopping.
Cron straightened fully.
The grin vanished.
Cron: ...That's the look.
Dantero's humor died in his throat.
Dantero: Hey.
No response.
Rykaou felt it last.
Not power.
Intent.
His senses screamed all at once. The smell of distortion. The taste of inevitability. The sound of something heavy being chosen instead of controlled.
Rykaou: He is not aiming at Kharos anymore.
That made everyone snap their attention back to Gilmuar.
The gravity was no longer oriented forward.
It was collapsing inward.
Toward him.
Gilmuar lifted the axe.
The hum returned, deeper than before. Not vibration. Not sound.
Acknowledgment.
Gilmuar inhaled.
For a brief moment, the entire suspended plaza leaned harder, walls bowing slightly as if pulled by an invisible tide.
Gilmuar: Domain Ver-
The word did not finish forming.
Cron was already moving.
He did not shout.
He did not warn.
Space folded violently around Gilmuar as Cron appeared directly in front of him, one hand slamming into his chest with enough force to displace gravity itself.
Cron: Stop.
The impact did not explode.
It nullified.
Gilmuar was thrown backward, skidding across the compressed ground as gravity tore free from its inward spiral. The axe slipped from his grip and embedded itself into the plaza floor, the surrounding stone imploding around the blade.
Dantero appeared beside Cron instantly, hands already glowing faintly, pressure pushing outward in layered waves.
Dantero: Hey. That's enough.
Rykaou dropped in behind Gilmuar, one knee slamming into the ground as his presence flared sharply, instincts screaming as he locked onto Gilmuar's breathing.
Rykaou: You are losing yourself.
Gilmuar struggled to rise.
Gravity spiked again.
Cron planted his foot and drove his palm down onto Gilmuar's shoulder.
Cron: You don't get to decide this alone.
The weight shattered.
Not released.
Shattered.
The inward pull collapsed violently and dissipated outward, pressure rushing away from Gilmuar in a chaotic wave that slammed into Biru's barrier and died there harmlessly.
The plaza exhaled.
Dust fell.
Sound returned.
Gilmuar lay still on one knee, head bowed, breath uneven.
Kharos stood several meters away, glaive lowered, posture no longer aggressive.
For the first time since the fight began, he looked unsettled.
Kharos: ...If that had completed.
Cron did not look at him.
Cron: You would not be standing.
Dantero glanced back at the Empire, at the frozen civilians still caught inside Biru's shadow.
Dantero: And half the empire wouldn't either.
Silence stretched.
Gilmuar's hand trembled where it pressed against the ground.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
His eyes were clear again.
The emptiness was gone.
Gilmuar: ...I didn't mean to—
Leona was already there.
She dropped to her knees beside him, hands glowing softly as violet and blue light layered together. Her magic flowed gently, water laced with warmth, closing micro fractures in bone and calming the violent internal pressure still echoing through his body.
Leona: You scared us.
Her voice shook, but she did not pull away.
Gilmuar swallowed.
Gilmuar: I scared myself.
Tier knelt nearby, not touching, just observing, relief flickering briefly across his face.
Tier: You stopped before the threshold.
Tier: Barely.
Gilmuar let out a shaky breath.
Gilmuar: That...
He clenched his fist.
Gilmuar: Sorry...
Cron straightened, arms crossing again.
Cron: No.
Cron: That was you touching the same place your brother lives in. Bastion Of Destruction.
The name landed heavy.
Kenzo.
Gilmuar closed his eyes.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he bowed his head slightly.
Gilmuar: ...I'm sorry.
Kharos stepped back another pace.
Not in fear.
In respect.
Kharos: I see now.
Kharos: Gravitas does not threaten by force.
Kharos: It threatens by inevitability.
Gilmuar looked up at him.
Gilmuar: You okay.
Kharos nodded slowly.
Kharos: Alive.
Kharos paused.
Kharos: That would not have remained true.
Biru's shadow withdrew smoothly, releasing the plaza. The suspended civilians resumed motion all at once, laughter and noise flooding back in like nothing had ever happened.
Children ran again.
Vendors shouted.
Life continued.
Gilmuar watched it all quietly.
Leona squeezed his shoulder once.
Leona: Next time.
Gilmuar exhaled.
Gilmuar: Yeah.
Gilmuar: Next time I stop sooner.
Cron snorted.
Cron: Or we stop you again.
Dantero smirked weakly.
Dantero: Group effort.
Rykaou stayed silent, eyes still locked on Gilmuar, senses slowly settling.
Rykaou: That weight.
Rykaou: It is not meant to be used lightly.
Gilmuar nodded.
Gilmuar: I know.
He stood slowly, retrieving the axe from the ground.
Gilmuar: That's why it scares me.
Kharos lowered his glaive fully.
Kharos: Then this measurement ends here.
Gilmuar met his gaze.
Gilmuar: For now.
The plaza breathed again.
Not carefully.
Normally.
And somewhere deep within Gilmuar, something heavy receded.
Unhappy.
But contained.
To be continued.
End Of Chapter 9.