Sylen swiftly grabbed the spare walkie-talkie he always carried, his voice sharp and urgent. "All units, fall back immediately!"
The response was instant—every operative withdrew, retracing their steps to the designated fallback point. Without wasting a second, Sylen snatched the walkie-talkie from Roy and switched channels. "Halstein, do you read? Activate the teleport, we need to leave. There's been a huge mana surge and I don't want to risk the team any further."
On the other end, Halstein exhaled, his voice laced with concern. "Understood. Initiate the teleportation spell."
At his command, five mages raised their hands, their synchronized skill weaving raw mana into a massive teleportation array. Golden runes ignited across the ground, forming a vast, intricate circle. In a brilliant flash, all seven members of Veil materialized within the guild.
Sylen wasted no time. "We were continuing our objective to see what was occuplying the castle as ordered, then a sudden wave of mana... it was unlike anything I've ever felt."
Halstein narrowed his eyes. "A wave of mana that was unlike anything..."
Sylen glanced at Tom and Leonard, his tone dead serious. "You both felt that spike in mana, didn't you?"
Both men exchanged a glance before nodding in firm agreement. A moment later, the rest of the team followed suit.
Halstein frowned. "Strange... I didn't sense anything unusual. Could it have been some kind of illusion magic?"
Sylen shook his head. "No chance. Whatever that was, it wasn't just an illusion. Something on that scale… it was real."
Halstein nodded, his expression serious. "I see. Did you get a glimpse of whatever it was?"
Sylen paused, weighing his words carefully. "No, sir… we were in an air vent when it happened."
Halstein's brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but he quickly dismissed the thought. "Alright, you all did well enough under the circumstances… but for the love of the gods, take a shower. You smell like you crawled out of a sewer."
At his words, the team chuckled weakly, their tension easing as they headed off to their rooms to clean up. Halstein settled into his chair, his mind racing with possibilities. "What could it have been?" he mused aloud, glancing around the room.
He flicked on the TV, flipping through news channels, but nothing about the mana surge appeared on screen. "Strange," he whispered to himself, his brow knitting in concern.
With a sigh, he switched off the TV and leaned back in his chair, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. He welcomed a few moments of peace, hoping to clear his mind, but the unanswered questions loomed heavy in the air.
A few hours later, Stiles and SteelArm stepped into the training room, anticipation crackling in the air. "Increase the gravity to the maximum," Stiles said, his voice steady as he shed his shirt, muscles rippling under the oppressive weight. SteelArm nodded and made his way to the control center, adjusting the settings to a staggering seven times the gravitational pull of Earth before rejoining Stiles in the main room.
"Are you ready?" SteelArm asked, his shirt falling away as if weighed down by a boulder, hitting the ground with a thud.
Stiles and SteelArm locked eyes, the intensity of their gazes sharpening the atmosphere around them. The weight of the gravity bore down on them, a relentless pressure that challenged their bodies and minds. "Let's get started," Stiles replied, falling into a martial arts stance, legs slightly bent, fists raised. SteelArm mirrored him, his stance strong and grounded.
A digital clock loomed overhead, counting down the seconds. Three… The sound resonated through the room, amplifying their focus. Two… The pulse quickened, each echoing tick a reminder of the impending clash. One… Anticipation thickened, the world narrowing to the two warriors before the countdown reached zero.
With a thunderous crack, the fight began.
The gravity felt like a mountain pressing down on them, every movement a Herculean effort. Stiles launched forward, channeling every ounce of strength into a punch aimed at SteelArm's midsection. SteelArm reacted instinctively, shifting his weight and deflecting the blow with an armored forearm, the impact resonating like a drum. Stiles stumbled slightly, the weight of the gravity amplifying every miscalculation, but he quickly regained his balance. He spun low, aiming a sweeping kick at SteelArm's legs. SteelArm leapt, propelled by sheer force, evading the attack but feeling the wind from the strike whip past him.
"Not bad!" SteelArm grunted, a grin spreading across his face as he landed heavily, the ground shaking beneath him. He countered with a powerful right hook, but Stiles ducked just in time, the punch slicing through the air above him.
Stiles pushed himself to the limits, launching a series of rapid jabs, each blow requiring immense effort. SteelArm absorbed the hits, gritting his teeth as he used his strength to absorb the force, then retaliated with a sweeping elbow that connected with Stiles' shoulder.
Stiles grunted, the force reverberating through his body, but he refused to yield. He pivoted and unleashed a flurry of kicks, each one aiming for SteelArm's side. The air crackled with energy as the two combatants clashed, sweat pouring down their brows, muscles straining against the weight of the gravity.
"Come on, Stiles! Show me what you've got!" SteelArm shouted, his voice booming through the training room as he powered through the pain.
Four grueling hours passed, and the atmosphere in the training room had shifted. Stiles and SteelArm had begun to adapt to the intense gravitational pull, their bodies gradually adjusting to the overwhelming weight. Each punch and kick felt lighter, their movements becoming more fluid as they pushed against the limits of their strength.
Stiles, breathing heavily but with a fierce determination in his eyes, took a moment to recalibrate his stance, a grin spreading across his face as he executed a precise jab followed by a quick uppercut, each movement sharper and more explosive than before.
SteelArm roared, launching into a series of rapid combinations, his fists blurring as he struck. The power behind each blow echoed throughout the room, but now they lacked the heavy fatigue that had accompanied their initial movements.
Stiles countered, moving with his adapted speed. He slipped under SteelArm's punch, springing back up with a swift roundhouse kick aimed at SteelArm's head. SteelArm reacted instinctively, leaning back just in time to avoid the blow, but he felt the rush of air as Stiles whirled past him.
SteelArm swung a heavy hook toward Stiles, who ducked and rolled, springing back up to deliver a quick series of jabs that kept SteelArm on his toes.
SteelArm lunged forward, his hand snaking out to grasp one of Stiles's wrists with a vice-like grip. With a fierce intensity, he unleashed a flurry of three rapid punches straight into Stiles's gut, each blow landing with bone-rattling force. As he released Stiles's wrist, the impact sent Stiles stumbling back, breathless and momentarily disoriented.
Seizing the moment, SteelArm followed up with a low kick aimed at Stiles's legs. Stiles, fueled by adrenaline, leaped backward just in time, narrowly avoiding the kick as he hit the ground. Gritting his teeth, he quickly regained his composure, his determination flaring.
With a sudden burst of energy, Stiles charged at SteelArm, his fist crackling with mana. He unleashed a powerful punch, aimed squarely at SteelArm's chest. The impact resonated like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves through SteelArm's body. The force of the blow knocked him back several feet, striking a painful chord around his heart as he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
After a few agonizing seconds, SteelArm pushed himself up and chuckled. "This is great!" He said loudly before rushing back in.
The battle raged on for seven relentless hours, both fighters displaying an indomitable spirit, refusing to accept defeat.
"I won't back down!" Stiles shouted, charging forward, his legs feeling heavy yet resolute. SteelArm grinned, adrenaline fueling his movements as he met Stiles halfway. "I'll show you what defeat looks like, my friend!" he shouted, and in that instant, their fists collided with a thunderous impact.
Both combatants were sent sprawling backward, laughter echoing through the training room as they hit the ground, the absurdity of their situation hitting them.
"Can you even feel your body right now?" Stiles asked, panting heavily, sweat pouring down his face and pooling on the floor beneath him. His muscles were taut and strained, the toll of the grueling fight evident.
"Not in the slightest." SteelArm replied, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body just as drenched in sweat. "But my muscles are definitely sore!" He chuckled, wincing slightly as his muscles twitched involuntarily from the exertion.
As they lay there, the exhaustion began to settle in, but neither was willing to concede. The playful banter masked the intensity of their training.
An hour later, Stiles and SteelArm finally pushed themselves to their feet, exhaustion etched into their features. They trudged to the control center, the weight of the gravity dial set to its normal level lifting their spirits slightly. As they ascended the stairs, they entered the main room of the guild, only to be met by a chorus of surprised gazes from their fellow members.
"Damn, they must've been training hard!" one member remarked, eyes wide as he noticed the way Stiles and SteelArm's muscles were still tensed, the evidence of their grueling session clear.
Ignoring the whispers, the two fighters climbed another staircase, making their way to their rooms. Once inside, they collapsed into their showers, the hot water washing away some of the fatigue and soreness that clung to them. Afterward, they fell onto their beds, utterly spent, and succumbed to sleep almost instantly, the weight of the day finally releasing its grip.