Chapter 29: The Weight of Battle

Chapter 29: The Weight of Battle

Baldur barely had time to react before the air itself seemed to thicken, like invisible hands pressing down on him from all angles. His golden aura flickered slightly as he instinctively adjusted, his body trying to compensate for the sudden shift in gravity.

Callaxes moved—not in a blur, not in a rush, but with absolute control. Each step was deliberate, each motion carrying the kind of weight that came from mastery of one's domain.

And this battlefield?

It was his domain.

The moment Baldur attempted to step forward, the ground beneath him hardened, pressing back against his boots with increased gravitational force. He felt his momentum stall for the briefest second—just long enough for Callaxes to capitalize.

A palm strike, deceptively simple, launched toward Baldur's chest. It wasn't fast. It wasn't overwhelming.

But Baldur could feel the weight behind it.

He twisted, phasing into light, his body momentarily becoming pure photons, scattering across the battlefield.

And yet—he didn't reform where he wanted to.

The instant his form began to coalesce, gravity shifted again, tugging at his scattered essence, pulling him toward the ground, toward Callaxes.

Baldur materialized mid-fall, not off balance, but not in control either. His feet barely touched the ground before a shockwave of force erupted beneath him, sending cracks rippling through the stone.

Callaxes lifted his other hand, and suddenly, Baldur felt the space around him compress—like the very air had turned into an unrelenting weight.

"Clever," Baldur admitted, his grin still present. He pressed a hand against the force pressing down on him, his golden aura flaring brighter. "But I hope you realize—"

He vanished.

No flicker, no warning. Just gone.

Reappearing behind Callaxes, Baldur's hand was already moving, a spear of solid light forming in his grip. He drove it forward, a golden comet streaking through the air.

Callaxes turned at the last possible moment, lifting his forearm.

The spear should have torn through him.

Instead, the very air around his arm bent inward, the weight of gravity condensing so intensely that Baldur's spear shattered against it.

Baldur's eyes widened slightly. "Huh."

And then Callaxes struck.

A simple backhand, nothing extravagant. But as it moved, gravity collapsed inward around his fist, the force multiplying exponentially.

Baldur didn't let it connect. He blinked away, light fracturing as he moved—only to feel the momentary tug of Callaxes' gravitational field pulling him slightly off-course.

Not enough to stop him. But enough to make him adjust.

Baldur landed a few meters away, shaking his arms out like he was warming up. His golden aura flickered, shifting in frequency.

"I get it now," he said, tilting his head slightly, studying his opponent. "You don't need to be fast. You don't need to be strong."

Callaxes didn't reply. He simply watched. Waiting.

Baldur continued. "You control the weight of things. Not just physically, but in motion. You make every movement heavier than it should be, every step cost more energy, every action feel like it's fighting against reality itself."

His grin widened.

"I like it."

Callaxes exhaled through his nose, raising his hand again. "Your speed is your advantage. Take that away, and you fall like any other warrior."

Baldur chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah, see, that's the problem with people like you."

Golden light pulsed outward from his form, illuminating the battlefield. Callaxes' gravitational field fluctuated slightly, the wavelengths of light bending unpredictably.

"You think I'm just fast."

He vanished.

Not blinked away. Not dodged.

Just ceased to exist in the way Callaxes could perceive.

For the first time, Callaxes' expression changed.

A flicker of confusion. A hint of calculation.

And then—Baldur reappeared.

Not behind him.

Not above him.

Everywhere.

Callaxes' gravitational field collapsed outward instinctively, trying to stabilize everything around him. But Baldur had already adapted.

His body was not just moving in the air, it was moving through light.

The first hit landed cleanly—a golden fist crashing into Callaxes' ribcage, sending him skidding backward, boots carving trenches into the ground.

The second came immediately after—a follow-up kick to his side, warping the air with the sheer concussive force.

Callaxes braced, shifted, tried to adjust—

But Baldur was already gone again.

Reappearing inches from his face, he whispered, "Your turn."

Then he drove both palms into Callaxes' chest, unleashing a shockwave of pure radiance.

Callaxes was launched backward, crashing through stone, through debris, through what remained of the market structures. The sheer force of the impact sent ripples through the air, distorting gravity itself as his own power reacted violently.

Baldur exhaled, flexing his fingers as golden energy crackled around his form.

The battlefield went silent.

The Executors that had stood in the distance, previously watching with cold indifference, now shifted.

They had not expected this.

Baldur hovered slightly above the ground, his form glowing brighter than before. He studied the wreckage Callaxes had disappeared into, his grin unwavering.

"Come on," he called. "I know that didn't kill you."

The rubble shifted.

And Callaxes rose.

His crimson armor was dented, his breathing slightly heavier, but his stance had not changed. He wiped a trail of blood from his mouth, his expression unreadable.

Then, he smiled.

For the first time, he looked entertained.

"You are better than I thought," Callaxes admitted, rolling his shoulders.

Baldur arched a brow. "Well, yeah. I'd be pretty embarrassed if I wasn't."

Callaxes extended a hand, and the very air rumbled. The debris around him lifted, suspended in mid-air, as the battlefield itself began to shift.

"I was being careful before," Callaxes said calmly. "I won't make that mistake again."

Baldur's grin widened. He had been holding back, too.

"Good," he said, his golden aura flaring higher. "I was getting bored."

The battle wasn't over yet.

The ground shook.

Not from an explosion. Not from impact.

From Callaxes.

The battlefield was no longer just a backdrop. It was no longer just a place where they fought.

It was becoming his weapon.

Baldur hovered a few feet above the crumbling stone, golden energy flickering around his form as he studied the shifts in gravity.

Callaxes didn't just increase weight.

He made the world move the way he wanted.

Chunks of broken structures lifted into the air, suspended in an unnatural orbit around him, twisting and shifting with invisible forces. Some floated lazily, while others spun violently like miniature planets caught in unstable gravitational fields.

Baldur whistled. "Okay. That's pretty."

Callaxes lifted his palm slightly, and Baldur suddenly felt the air pulling him downward, harder than before.

Not just pulling.

Dragging.

Baldur plummeted. Not because he had lost control, but because Callaxes had decided it.

He twisted mid-air, golden light flashing as he attempted to teleport away—

But the gravity caught the photons themselves, dragging them down with him.

Baldur's body snapped back into place, forced into a hard landing. His boots cracked the ground beneath him as he skidded slightly, feeling the weight pressing onto him.

Not crushing.

But enough to slow him down.

Callaxes moved—not in a blur, not in a rush, but with absolute control. Each step was deliberate, every motion carrying the force of the battlefield itself.

Baldur dashed forward, his form turning into pure light, streaking toward Callaxes.

Then—a sudden, violent shift.

His body yanked sideways mid-motion, pulled by an unseen force. The battlefield wasn't just pulling him down—it was pulling him in every direction at once.

Baldur barely reformed before Callaxes' fist crashed into his chest, sending him hurtling backward.

Not just from the strength of the hit.

But because Callaxes had altered the pull of gravity at the last second, accelerating the force of the blow.

Baldur slammed through floating debris, his body smashing through the remains of a ruined ship before he caught himself midair, golden light stabilizing around him.

He exhaled sharply, shaking off the impact.

"Alright," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "I see what you're doing."

Callaxes lifted his hand, and the gravitational field shifted again.

Baldur suddenly felt himself being pushed away—like the very battlefield was rejecting him.

He fought against it, his light flickering as he struggled to stay in one place. Every time he tried to rush forward, the force shifted, either pulling him back or shoving him aside.

Callaxes wasn't faster than him.

He didn't need to be.

He was controlling the battlefield itself.

Baldur's grin widened.

"Alright," he said. "Let's see if you can still keep up when the whole world is light."

Golden energy flared outward, exploding in a burst of blinding brilliance.

Callaxes barely flinched, but his gravitational control wavered for just a moment.

And that was all Baldur needed.

He vanished.

Not forward.

Not backward.

Everywhere.

Light scattered across the battlefield, bouncing between floating debris, refracting off shattered metal, multiplying in chaotic directions.

Callaxes narrowed his eyes, adjusting his stance, shifting the gravitational fields to anticipate where Baldur would attack.

But Baldur wasn't attacking from a single direction.

He was all around him.

A solid beam of golden light erupted from above, crashing downward toward Callaxes. He twisted, increasing gravity in one area while lightening another, letting the attack bend away.

But then another came.

And another.

Then a hundred.

Each one a fragment of Baldur, each one moving at the speed of light, hitting from angles Callaxes couldn't cover all at once.

The battlefield turned into pure illumination.

Callaxes raised both arms, gravity collapsing inward, forcing debris, air, and energy itself to condense around him.

But the light passed through.

Because light doesn't care about weight.

And Baldur wasn't bound by the same forces Callaxes controlled.

A single flash of gold appeared directly in front of Callaxes, just as his defenses wavered.

And Baldur's fist connected.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, Callaxes' body bending backward as he was hurled across the battlefield.

For the first time, his control faltered.

The floating debris around them collapsed downward, their unstable gravitational fields shattering without him maintaining them.

Baldur hovered above the battlefield, golden energy still humming in his fists.

Callaxes slowly stood from the wreckage. His armor was cracked, his breathing heavier.

He exhaled, tilting his head. "You adapted quickly."

Baldur rolled his shoulders. "Yeah, it's kind of my thing."

Callaxes' fingers twitched.

The battlefield rumbled again.

But this time, Baldur was already moving.