Rudra stepped across the invisible boundary into Zone 2. The change was instant. It was like an invisible mountain dropped onto his shoulders. Four times normal gravity pressed down on him, making every movement feel like dragging stone through molasses the world pressed down with crushing force. It felt like half a ton of invisible stone had settled onto his shoulders, driving his feet deeper into the strangely dense earth. His muscles corded, tendons standing out in sharp relief on his forearms and neck. He took a deep breath – the air itself felt thick, resisting his lungs.
Yet, he stood firm. He didn't flare his prana. He didn't stagger. He simply absorbed the weight. His strong body, groaned but held. It was immense, undeniable pressure, a constant grinding force seeking to buckle his knees and drive him face-first into the dirt.
He spent several minutes adjusting. He shifted his weight, rolled his shoulders, flexed his legs, finding the optimal stance to distribute the crushing force. Sweat began to bead on his brow, not from exhaustion yet, but from the sheer effort of existing under such strain. Beside him, Harry entered Zone 2, a visible shimmer of blue prana flaring around him as he reinforced his body.
"Alright?" Harry puffed, his voice strained but controlled.
Rudra nodded, a single sharp movement. "Adjusting."
"Good," Harry managed. "Zone 3's has two times the gravity. Don't rush it."
Rudra didn't answer right away. He was already thinking ahead. This was just the beginning.
Together, they walked toward the edge of Zone Three. The closer they got, the heavier the air felt. The difference wasn't just weight—it was atmosphere. It was like the domain itself pushed against every intention, every desire to move forward.
As they moved forward, the oppressive air growing heavier with each step towards the boundary of Zone 3. Crossing it was like walking into a solid wall.
Then, they crossed the line.
WHUMPF.
It hit like a punch to the chest.
Eight times gravity. Rudra gasped, the breath driven from his lungs. His vision momentarily greyed at the edges. This was different. This wasn't just heaviness. This was crushing force from every direction. Like the ground itself wanted to swallow him whole.
If he were a normal First-Level Initiate, he knew what would happen:
His legs would have shattered like kindling.
His blood, unable to fight the immense pull, would have pooled in his lower body, starving his brain, leading to swift unconsciousness.
His lungs would have collapsed, unable to expand against the pressure.
Bones, untempered, would snap under the sheer load.
But he kept moving forward.
His back bent slightly under the strain, feet dragging slow furrows through the dust. He adjusted his posture, weight shifted to the balls of his feet. The sweat was now dripping freely from his chin, stinging his eyes. His tunic clung to his frame, soaked through.
Rudra felt the echoes of that potential destruction. Every step was a monumental effort, muscles screaming in protest. He felt the drag in his veins, the sluggish flow of blood. Each breath was a battle – sucking in the thick air felt like trying to inflate stone bellows. The pressure wrapped around his ribs like iron bands. Sweat poured freely now, stinging his eyes.
He looked around. Most students who had pushed this far were stopped. A dozen figures sat or knelt in meditative poses scattered across Zone 3, faces etched with agony and fierce concentration. Primal auras flickered around them – blues, reds, earthy browns – as they desperately circulated prana to reinforce their bodies and refine their energy under the brutal pressure. This was their limit, their crucible.
Further ahead, Ronald Clain stood near the boundary of Zone 4, radiating focused calm despite the hellish pressure. His noble bearing was intact, though a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. Vaishnav was just behind him, at the very edge of Zone 3, visibly trembling, crimson prana flaring erratically as he gathered his strength for the leap into the nightmare zone. His eyes, burning with determination and fury, were fixed on Ronald's back.
Harry, moved beside Rudra, breathing hard. "This is the zone that matters," he said, nodding to the students sitting around them. His own prana aura steady but taxed, gestured to the meditating students. "This... this is where it gets real beneficial. The pressure... forces your prana channels wide open. Refines the energy, tempers the body like nothing else." He wiped sweat from his eyes. "I'm stopping here for now. Push too hard too fast into Zone 4, you risk injury, waste the training opportunity. Gonna maximize the refinement here, then try for the edge of Zone 4 later." He looked pointedly at Rudra. "Smart move. Don't let ego break you before you gain the strength."
Rudra appreciated the advice, the genuine concern beneath Harry's strained words. He met his friend's gaze. "Thanks, Harry. But... I need to know my limit."
Harry studied him for a moment, seeing the unwavering resolve beneath the strain. He gave a short, sharp nod, respect warring with worry. "Alright. Just... don't force yourself yeah? It's interesting having you around." He slowly lowered himself into a cross-legged position, closing his eyes as his prana aura stabilized, focusing inward.
Alone now in his purpose, Rudra pushed forward through the hellscape of Zone 3. Each step was a difficult , the pressure threatening to grind his bones to dust. He reached the boundary of Zone 4. The air here seemed to vibrate with pure, oppressive power. Beyond the shimmering line, the ground looked unnaturally dark and compacted. Ronald had already stepped through, his form instantly becoming slower, more deliberate. Vaishnav, with a guttural roar, forced himself across the threshold moments later, staggering but remaining upright through sheer will and flaring crimson energy.
Rudra paused. He could feel the terrifying promise of sixteen times gravity radiating from just meters away. He took several deep, controlled breaths, centering himself. He focused inward, feeling the deep, steady spring of his prana – already far beyond a normal Initiate. He didn't unleash it yet; he gathered it, ready.
He lifted his foot. Placed it deliberately over the line.
CRUNCH.
It wasn't just pressure; it was impact. Sixteen times gravity didn't settle; it slammed down on him like a mountain dropped from the sky. Rudra's vision whited out. His knees buckled violently, threatening to drive him face-first into the unyielding earth. A strangled gasp ripped from his throat as his lungs compressed agonizingly. He heard, rather than felt, the groan of protest from his reinforced bones. Blood roared in his ears, a tidal wave threatening to drown his consciousness.
He almost fell. His body, pushed beyond anything it had ever experienced, screamed for surrender. For a terrifying second, he hovered on the brink of collapse, bent double, trembling violently, knuckles white as he instinctively braced his hands on his buckling knees.
But surrender wasn't in him. The image of Edward's intense gaze, the memory of the Divine Dance, the sheer stubborn will that had carried him through the fight with Vaishnav – it flared within him. With a sound that was half-growl, half-roar, he forced his back straight. Muscles that felt like tearing steel cables locked. His head lifted, sweat and dust streaking his face, eyes blazing with defiance against the crushing weight. He stood. Shaking, straining, every fiber shrieking in protest, but he stood in the heart of sixteen times gravity.
This feat did not go unnoticed.
Vaishnav: He was maybe 6 to 7 meters ahead, bent almost double himself, straining to lift a foot. He saw Rudra stagger, nearly fall, then stand. A flicker of pure shock crossed Vaishnav's sweat-drenched, furious face, momentarily eclipsing his anger. How?! How is he HERE? The annoyance at Rudra's presence flared hotter, mixed now with a grudging, furious acknowledgement of strength he couldn't dismiss. He redoubled his own efforts, pushing forward with ragged breaths.
Ronald Clain He was closest to the center, at boundary of 5 zone . He had felt the tremor in the oppressive field when Rudra entered Zone 4, a significant disruption. He turned his head, a rare break in his absolute focus. Seeing the new student – the commoner – not only standing in Zone 4 but having apparently weathered the initial, brutal impact without collapsing, caused Ronald's icy composure to crack. His aristocratic eyebrows lifted in genuine astonishment. No Initiate, especially not a new one, should be capable of that. Interest, sharp and calculating, replaced mere surprise in his cold blue eyes.
Several students near the boundary of Zone 3 had cracked their eyes open, feeling the ripple of disturbance. Seeing Rudra standing tall in the nightmare zone, visibly straining but unbowed, elicited gasps and muttered curses. "He's in Four?" "Impossible..." "Who is that guy?"
Ronald Clain didn't rush. Moving in Zone 4 was a slow, deliberate act. But he changed direction. Instead of pushing further towards the zone 5, he began making his way towards Rudra. It took him nearly a minute to cover the 10 meters, each step measured, his prana aura a steady, controlled silver glow.
He stopped a few feet from Rudra, the immense gravity making even standing this close an effort. He looked Rudra up and down, his gaze analytical, piercing, devoid of warmth but filled with sharp appraisal. There was no mockery yet, only intense curiosity.
"What," Ronald began, his voice strained but clear, cutting through the oppressive silence of Zone 4, "is your name, newbie?" He paused, letting the weight of the question hang as heavy as the gravity. "You're... unexpectedly proficient. For a commoner."
Rudra, still locked in his battle against the mountain on his back, met Ronald's gaze. His breath came in ragged pulls, sweat stinging his eyes, but his own gaze was steady, unflinching. The challenge in the noble's tone was clear.