He felt hands, impossibly strong, wrapped around his neck, squeezing.

Tatehan gasped, struggling, his hands clawing at the grip. His fingers scraped uselessly against the armored gauntlets, finding no purchase and no weakness.

He wondered who was doing this…

He twisted his head, catching a glimpse of his attacker.

It was Commander Cherak.

But he looked different now. He was massive, his body seeming to have grown even larger, encased in sleek red armor. His eyes glowed with a fierce, unnatural light behind his cracked visor. And he wasn't using hovering boots or a Skyblade.

He was flying.

FLYING!

Defying gravity itself.

"You think you've won?" Cherak snarled, his voice like thunder echoing across the sky. "You've done nothing!"

He squeezed harder, and Tatehan felt his vision start to darken at the edges. His lungs screamed for air that wouldn't come.

Super strength?

Super flight?

What the fuck...

Tatehan was running out of air.

They were rising. Higher and higher, the ground falling away beneath them at a terrifying speed. Tatehan could see the strike team below, tiny figures on their hovering boots and Skyblades, scattered across the sky like insects. The burning wreckage of the fortress tumbled downward, trailing smoke and flames.

Waython Hollow spread out far below, beautiful and distant, the city lights beginning to flicker on as evening approached.

And still they climbed.

Cherak's grip never loosened.

"You think destroying one fortress changes anything?" Cherak growled, his face inches from Tatehan's. "The Obscuron has a dozen more! This was nothing! You are nothing!"

Tatehan's vision was tunneling now, darkness creeping in from all sides. His lungs burned. His body felt heavy and sluggish.

He was going to die, unless he did something.

He had to do something…

Tatehan focused through the haze of oxygen deprivation, reaching for the one thing that might save him.

The kinetic absorption system built into the plating had been passively storing energy this entire time, every squeeze of Cherak's hands, every jolt of movement and every vibration from the man's flight. It was all stored there, waiting to be used.

Tatehan activated it.

The armor glowed with light, and suddenly all that stored energy released in a single, explosive burst.

The shockwave erupted outward from Tatehan's body, slamming into Cherak with devastating force.

Cherak's grip broke.

Tatehan gasped, sucking in a desperate breath as the hands released him. For a moment, he was suspended in the air, weightless and free.

And then he started to fall.

His hovering boots kicked in, stabilizing him just as Cherak recovered and came at him again.

They were at extreme altitude now, far higher than the boots were designed to go. Tatehan could feel them struggling, the anti-gravity emitters straining against the thin air and the distance from the ground.

But they held.

Cherak roared, hurtling toward him with both fists raised.

Tatehan twisted in the air, using his gravity manipulation to pull himself sideways just as Cherak's fists slammed together where his head had been a split second before.

The force of the missed blow sent a shockwave rippling through the air.

Tatehan retaliated immediately, flipping around and hurling one of his chakrams. The blade spun through the air, striking Cherak in the shoulder and carving a shallow gash through the red armor before returning to Tatehan's hand.

Cherak barely flinched.

He would have used his sword but he was in the air. And so it could fall and he would lose it forever. The chakrams was the best option now because they could return back to him.

"Pathetic!" he snarled, lunging again.

This time, Tatehan used his gravity manipulation differently. He increased the gravitational pull around Cherak, yanking the man toward him faster than his flight could compensate for.

Cherak's eyes widened in surprise as he was suddenly jerked forward.

And Tatehan's fist was waiting.

His kinetic absorption armor had been storing energy again, this time from Cherak's movements, his attacks and the force of his flight, the speed at which he was falling was enough kinetic energy.

Tatehan released it all in one devastating punch, his gauntleted fist glowing with stored power.

The impact caught Cherak right in the chest.

The force sent the man tumbling backward through the air, his armor cracking further, sparks flying from the damaged plating.

But he didn't fall.

He stabilized himself, shaking his head, and then he laughed.

"Is that all you've got?" Cherak said, his voice echoing across the sky.

And he came at Tatehan again.

Below, the strike team watched helplessly.

Lyra hovered on her boots, her eyes focused on the fight happening far above. She activated her comm.

"Tatehan!" she shouted. "We're coming!"

"No!" Tatehan's voice crackled back, strained and breathless. "Stay back! Your boots can't reach this altitude!"

Riven fired her rifle upward, the explosive rounds detonating uselessly in the air far below where the fight was happening.

"Damn it!" she said.

They could only watch.

Cherak slammed into Tatehan like a freight train, driving both fists into his chest. The impact sent Tatehan spinning, his armor absorbing the kinetic energy but his body feeling the jarring force of it.

He recovered, using his gravity manipulation to right himself, and retaliated with another chakram throw.

This time, Cherak caught it.

The blade spun uselessly in his gauntleted hand for a moment before he crushed it, the metal crumpling like foil.

[One chakram destroyed!]

Tatehan's eyes widened. What was with him and losing weapons in a fight. This had happened when he fought the Hexapod mauler, he had lost the rock sword, a weapon so powerful it was stronger than his current. Now this again.

'Shit!, and the chakrams were really helpful!'

Cherak grinned behind his cracked visor.

"You can't win," he said. "I'm stronger. I'm Faster. And I can fly forever."

He threw the ruined chakram aside and charged again.

Tatehan dodged, barely, using his heightened perception to see the attack coming a split second before it landed, he wondered why he could use the ability though, perhaps they had been fighting and planting bombs on the Fortress for more than an hour? from when last he used it?

Tatehan twisted in the air, feeling Cherak's fist brush past his helmet.

But Cherak was relentless.

He came at Tatehan again and again, each strike faster and harder than the last. Tatehan dodged, blocked, absorbed the impacts with his armor, but he could feel himself tiring.

His hovering boots were starting to sputter. The altitude was too high, the strain too much.

And Cherak just kept coming.

Tatehan realized something then. He couldn't win this with just strength or speed .He needed to be tactical, just like with Mub.

Tatehan's eyes scanned Cherak's armor as they circled each other in the sky. He needed to find a weak…

There, the cracks!

The damage from their earlier fight in the fortress, and from the explosions. The armor was weakest at the chest and along the left side where Riven's explosive rounds had hit.

That was the target.

But Tatehan's chakrams were gone in way, with one destroyed he wasn't sure he could use the second effectively. And his fists alone wouldn't be enough to pierce that armor, his sword would be blown away by the wind…

He needed something stronger.

The Devastator Hand Cannon.

But it was in his inventory, and summoning it would take a second, a second Cherak wouldn't give him.

Unless...

Tatehan took a breath.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady. "You want a fight? Come get me. Let's do a physical fight."

Cherak grinned and charged.

Tatehan didn't dodge. His plan had worked, he had lured the man.

He let Cherak grab him again, both hands closing around his shoulders this time, squeezing with bone-crushing force.

"Stupid!" Cherak snarled. "Now you die!"

"Not yet," Tatehan said.

And he summoned the Devastator Hand Cannon.

The weapon materialized in his right hand in an instant and before Cherak could react, Tatehan jammed the barrel against the cracked section of his chest armor and fired.

The shot was point-blank.

The explosive round detonated on impact, tearing through the weakened armor and into the flesh beneath. Cherak screamed, his grip loosening as blood sprayed from the wound.

Tatehan didn't stop.

He channeled every ounce of stored kinetic energy in his armor into his left fist and drove it upward into Cherak's jaw.

The impact was devastating, really brutal stuff.

Cherak's head snapped back, his visor shattering completely. The force of the blow sent him flying backward, his flight failing, his body going limp.

And then he began to fall.

Tatehan watched for a split second as Cherak plummeted toward the ground far below, his body tumbling through the air like a ragdoll.

Then Tatehan followed.

He deactivated his hovering boots and dropped, using his gravity manipulation to increase his own weight, making himself fall faster. The wind screamed past him, his armor rattling from the speed.

He caught up to Cherak in seconds.

The man was barely conscious, blood streaming from his mouth, his eyes unfocused.

Tatehan pulled back his fist one more time, targeting the same shattered jaw.

And he struck.

The impact sent Cherak hurtling downward even faster, his body a streak of red against the sky.

Tatehan let him go and focused on himself.

The ground was rushing up to meet him now: buildings, streets, the plaza where the strike team had launched from. He could see people scattering, pointing upward.

Cherak hit first.

The impact was catastrophic.

He slammed into the ground with the force of a meteor, the stone plaza cracking and splintering, debris exploding outward. A massive crater formed where he landed, dust and smoke billowing into the air.

Tatehan was right behind him.

At the last second, he used his gravity manipulation again, this time to reduce his own weight, lightening himself just enough to soften the fall.

But not enough to stop it.

He hit the ground hard.

Boom!

The impact rattled his bones, his armor absorbing most of the force but his body still feeling the jarring shock of it. He rolled, tumbling across the cracked stone before finally coming to a stop.

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