The weeks bled together.
They became a blur of grey stone and silver mana.
The winter deepened outside the walls of Zenith Academy. Snow piled against the high windows of the spires. The wind howled around the floating islands like a starving wolf.
Inside the private training hall of Villa 1 the air was hot.
It smelled of sweat and burning mana.
Vane stood in the center of the gravity press. The runic dial on the wall was set to four times standard gravity. His bones creaked. His blood felt like lead in his veins.
He held the Iron Horse stance. His legs burned. The [Silver Fang] hummed in his chest. It was agitated by the pressure. It wanted to lash out. It wanted to cut the gravity field.
Vane forced it down.
He activated [Internal Pulse].
He sent a vibration through his skeletal structure. He matched the frequency of the crushing weight. He turned his radius and ulna into tuning forks.
