Tatehan had made himself light: impossibly light, just before he hit the ground.

He'd manipulated his own gravity, reducing his weight so drastically that the wind caught him, swaying him like a leaf falling from a tree. The impact that should have shattered every bone in his body, that should have killed him instantly, was reduced to something merely devastating instead of fatal.

But it still hurt like hell.

He fell like no leaf, he didn't fall with that grace, instead he fell with a Thud! but less impactful than it should be.

His kinetic absorption armor—the [70% absorbed, 30% impacted] safety mechanism, hadn't activated. He'd already used it three times during the fight with Cherak in the sky, and the cooldown hadn't reset. So he'd taken the full force of the landing, even lightened as he was.

Tatehan groaned, his body in pain as he lay sprawled in the center of the crater. His armor was still active, the silver plating gleaming dully under the evening light, but underneath it, he could feel the damage: bruised ribs, strained muscles. His left shoulder felt like it had been wrenched out of socket and forced back in.

People were gathering around the crater's edge, staring down at him with wide eyes. Some pointed, others whispered, a few held up devices to record what they were seeing.

Tatehan tried to move and immediately regretted it. Pain lanced through his chest sharply.

"Is he alive?" someone asked.

"What the hell just happened?" another voice said.

"Did you see that? He fell from the sky!"

Tatehan managed to turn his head slightly, his vision swimming (more like drowning). Through the haze of pain, he saw something: a massive screen mounted on the side of a nearby building, one of those public displays that showed news and advertisements.

Right now, it was showing footage.

Footage of him.

The broadcast was labeled in bold letters across the bottom: RED CREST CLAN STOPS OBSCURON FORTRESS CONSTRUCTION.

On the screen, Tatehan watched himself falling through the sky, in combat with Cherak. The footage had been captured by news drones—automated cameras that circled conflict zones to record events. He saw the moment he summoned the Devastator Hand Cannon, the explosion of the shot against Cherak's armor, the brutal punch that sent the commander plummeting.

And then Tatehan's own fall, his body a silver streak against the sky.

The crowd watching the screen gasped and pointed as the footage showed him hitting the ground.

Tatehan gritted his teeth, staring at the screen.

Great. Now everyone had seen it.

He forced himself to focus, ignoring the pain and the murmuring crowd. He needed to think. Needed to assess the damage and figure out his next move.

He activated his heightened perception.

Time didn't actually slow, not really, but his mind accelerated, processing everything at a vastly increased rate. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion as his thoughts raced ahead.

He'd only used the ability briefly during the fight, maybe thirty seconds total. The cooldown was three minutes before he could use it again for extended periods. He'd have to wait another hour before pushing it to its limits, but short bursts like this? Still available.

As his mind worked, a system notification appeared in his vision, glowing softly against the backdrop of the crater and the watching crowd.

[Congratulations on surviving the fall.]

Tatehan almost laughed. Almost. It hurt too much.

Another notification followed.

[For using your Gravity Manipulation ability with exceptional tactical precision to preserve your life, you have successfully upgraded the ability to Level 10.]

[New applications unlocked.]

Tatehan's eyes widened.

[Gravity Manipulation - Level 10]

[You can now manipulate gravitational forces with significantly greater control and versatility. New techniques available:]

[• Gravitational Shield: Generate a spherical field of intense gravitational distortion around yourself or a designated area. The field deflects projectiles, slows physical attacks, and creates a barrier of compressed gravitational force. Duration: 8 seconds. Cooldown: 90 seconds. Radius: 3 meters.]

[Note: Advanced techniques require significant energy expenditure. Overuse may result in physical exhaustion or temporary loss of ability access.]

[HOST STATUS]

Name: Tatehan

Level: 8

Species: Human (Enhanced)

Knowledge: 135/200 [+5]

Repair Points: 57/100

[ABILITIES]

• Gravity Manipulation - Level 10

• Regeneration (Partial) - Level 7

• Enhanced Durability - Level 2

• Heightened perception - Level 4

[INVENTORY:]

[Shadow Goblin Cores: 54 total]

[Tri-Edge Shadow chakrams]

[Backpack]

[Armor]

[Novels]

[Shadow-Forged Blade]

[Kinetic Absorption Armor]

[Devastator Hand Cannon]

[Core from the Destroyed fortress]

Tatehan stared at the notifications, his mind racing even faster now.

A shield.

He could create a gravitational shield.

That alone could have changed the fight with Cherak. If he'd had that ability earlier, he could have blocked attacks, protected himself when his kinetic absorption was on cooldown.

This wasn't just an upgrade (literally). It was a new ability entirely.

Tatehan's partial regeneration ability kicked in, some warmth spreading through his body as his injuries began to slowly knit themselves back together. Bruises faded, torn muscles stitched, bones realigned. It was slow though, but it was working.

He dismissed the notifications and deactivated his heightened perception, letting time resume its normal flow.

The crowd was still watching him.

And then he heard the sound of engines.

A Skyblade descended from above, its sleek frame cutting through the air as it landed just outside the crater. The cockpit opened, and Lyra jumped out, her armor still scorched from the battle. Her face was tight with concern as she slid down into the crater, moving toward Tatehan.

"Tatehan!" she called.

"I'm fine," Tatehan rasped, though his voice sounded rough even to his own ears.

"You're not fine," Lyra said sharply, crouching beside him. "You just fell from the goddamn sky."

"Technically," Tatehan said, wincing as he tried to sit up."

Another figure appeared at the crater's edge, Riven, limping slightly but alive. She slid down carefully, favoring her injured side, and moved to Tatehan's other side.

"You idiot," Riven muttered, though there was relief in her voice. "You scared the hell out of us."

Tatehan smiled.

Together, Lyra and Riven helped him to his feet. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright.

The crowd murmured as they watched.

Lyra and Riven supported him as they climbed out of the crater and moved toward the Skyblade. The onlookers parted, staring in awe and confusion.

They reached the Skyblade, and Riven helped him into the passenger compartment while Lyra climbed back into the pilot's seat. The cockpit sealed, and the engines roared to life. Tatehan's armor retracted now, disappearing back into his inventory, leaving him in his torn and bloodied clothing underneath.

As they lifted off, Tatehan glanced down at the streets below.

People were still watching, still pointing.

He closed his eyes and let the exhaustion pull him under.

When Tatehan opened his eyes, he was lying in a bed.

The medical room.

White walls, sterile smell, the faint sound of medical equipment monitoring his vitals. Bandages wrapped around his chest, his left arm, his shoulder. An IV line ran into his right arm, feeding him fluids and probably painkillers.

Lyra sat in a chair beside the bed, her arms crossed and her eyes closed. She looked like she'd been there for a while.

Tatehan shifted slightly, and the movement made her eyes snap open.

"Finally," she said, her voice soft but edged with relief. "You're awake."

Tatehan blinked, his mind still foggy.

"How long?" he rasped.

"Four hours," Lyra said. "Since we brought you back from the scene. You passed out on the flight. Combination of blood loss, exhaustion, and probably shock."

Tatehan groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow.

"The commander was here," Lyra continued. "She left about an hour ago. Said she'd check on you later. Riven left too, she needed medical attention for her own injuries."

Tatehan nodded slowly, processing the information.

He almost smiled at the thought of Riven. I mean, she shouldn't have come on this dangerous mission but she did anyway and now see how she was wounded from it.

He focused inward, checking his body. The pain was still there, but it was... less. Significantly less. The sharp, stabbing sensations had faded to dull aches. His ribs no longer felt like they were grinding against each other. His shoulder moved without the searing agony from before.

His partial regeneration ability was doing its job.

"You were brave," Lyra said quietly, drawing his attention back to her. "What you did up there... the risk you took..."

She paused, her expression conflicted.

"You must be in so much pain. The medics said it'll take at least a week, maybe more, before you're fully recovered. You need to rest."

Tatehan stared at the ceiling for a moment, then reached up and began pulling at the bandages wrapped around his chest.

"What are you doing?" Lyra asked, alarmed.

Tatehan ripped the bandages off, then the ones on his arm, tossing them aside. He pulled the IV line out with a wince and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm heading to my room for proper rest," he said, standing.

Lyra shot to her feet, her eyes wide.

"What—how—you're not fully healed!" she stammered. "You can't just—"

Tatehan turned to face her, and despite the lingering aches, he managed a faint smile.

"I'll be fine," he said. "It's nothing serious."

Lyra stared at him, dumbfounded…speechless as he walked away.

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