Chapter 57: The Event Horizon

The Turbine Hall was a cathedral of industry. It was a massive, vaulted chamber where the air hummed with the electric potential of the Spire’s primary generators. In the center of the room, twenty students from the Coalition stood in a defensive phalanx. They had fortified their position with walls of raised stone and floating turrets of compressed fire.

Jax stood at the front. The Fire Mage from the western noble houses looked at the floor grating where the ventilation shaft ended. He held a ball of condensed flame in his hand. He was smiling.

“They are in the shaft,” Jax announced to his squad. “I can hear them scratching around like the rats they are. As soon as that hatch pops, I want the tunnel flooded with magma. Do not leave ash.”

The students nodded. They were tense but confident. They had the numbers. They had the high ground. They had the choke point.

Beneath the floor, tucked in the shadows of the open maintenance hatch, Vane and Isole watched the ambush unfold.

“They are focused on the vents,” Isole whispered. Her eyes were wide as she gauged the sheer volume of mana waiting to incinerate them. “If we had popped the hatch, we would be dead.”

“Eyes up,” Vane whispered back. “The show is starting.”

Behind the Coalition, the massive blast doors that led to the exterior of the Spire let out a groan that shook the entire hall.

Jax spun around. The smile vanished from his face. “What was that?”

The blast doors were ten feet tall and made of reinforced titan-steel. They were locked by high-pressure hydraulics that could only be released from the central control room.

Or by a Rat with a spear in the junction box below.

HISSSS.

The pneumatic seals vented a massive cloud of white steam. The gears ground against each other with a sound like screaming metal. Slowly, agonizingly, the doors began to slide open.

The wind from the outside rushed in. It was a freezing gale from the high altitude, carrying snowflakes that melted instantly in the heat of the turbine room.

Standing in the opening, framed by the grey sky and the swirling snow, was Valerica.

She did not look tired. She did not look like someone who had just free-climbed three thousand feet of vertical iron. She looked pristine. Her white-gold hair flowed around her like a halo, and her eyes burned with the calm, molten intensity of a star.

She stepped into the hall. Her heels clicked against the metal floor. It was a soft sound, yet it echoed louder than the turbines.

“Valerica,” Jax hissed. He took a step back, his flame wavering. “You… you were supposed to be in the lower bracket. How did you get here?”

Valerica did not answer. She scanned the room with a bored expression until her eyes locked onto the floor grate where Vane and Isole were hiding. A small, knowing smile touched her lips. She gave a microscopic nod, acknowledging the open door.

Then she looked back at Jax.

“You are in my way,” Valerica said. Her voice was melodious and soft, but it carried a weight that made the air feel heavy.

“Open fire!” Jax screamed. Panic cracked his voice. “Target the intruder! Barrage formation!”

The Coalition unleashed hell.

Ten Earth Mages launched spears of solid rock. Five Fire Mages hurled lances of blue flame. Wind Mages accelerated the projectiles, turning the air into a shredding storm of elemental death. It was enough firepower to level a city block.

Isole gripped Vane’s arm. “She has no shield! She is going to take it head-on!”

“Watch,” Vane said. His eyes were locked on the golden girl. “She doesn’t need a shield.”

Valerica did not raise her hands. She did not cast a barrier. She simply took a breath, and the air around her began to distort. It looked like heat haze on a summer road, a shimmering ripple that warped the light.

[Authority: Celestial Heart]

[Skill: Event Horizon (Grade A)]

The bombardment reached her.

And then it fell.

The rock spears did not hit her skin. Three feet away from her body, they suddenly jerked downward as if an invisible giant had slapped them. They smashed into the floor grating with enough force to dent the steel.

The fire lances did not explode. They curved. They bent toward the ground in impossibly tight arcs, splashing harmlessly against her boots like spilled water.

The wind blades dissipated, crushed by a pressure that exceeded the atmosphere itself.

Valerica continued to walk. She stepped over the shattered rocks and the dying flames. She was untouched. Not a hair was out of place.

“Gravity,” Isole whispered. The color drained from her face. “She is not blocking the magic. She is curving the space it travels through. She is creating a singularity.”

Vane nodded. “That’s why she fights with her fists, Isole. No weapon can hold her weight. She is a walking planet.”

The Coalition stared in horror. Their best attacks lay in ruins at her feet.

“My turn,” Valerica said.

She stopped in front of the Coalition’s vanguard, a massive student with a Tower Shield Authority. He was encased in three layers of stone armor. He looked like a fortress.

“Stay back!” the tank roared. He slammed his shield down and braced his legs. “I am the Bulwark of House Stone! You can not move me!”

Valerica pulled her right arm back. It was a simple, textbook punch. There was no flashy aura. No screaming dragon of mana. Just a fist.

But as she moved, the air around her arm screamed. The light sucked inward, darkening the room for a split second. She was increasing the mass of her fist. At the moment of impact, her hand did not weigh a pound. It weighed as much as a freight train.

She punched the shield.

CRACK-BOOM.

There was no resistance. The tower shield disintegrated into dust. The stone armor shattered like porcelain.

The student did not fly backward. The impact was so dense that he simply folded. He was spiked into the floor, the metal grating shearing apart beneath him as he was buried waist-deep in the steel.

The shockwave blew the rest of the Coalition off their feet. Windows along the upper gantry shattered inward.

Valerica stood over the unconscious tank. She shook her hand lightly, as if flicking away a drop of water.

“Paper,” she murmured.

She looked up at the terrified remnants of the squad. Jax was trembling, his flame extinguished.

“Leave,” Valerica commanded. She pointed to the emergency exit.

The Coalition did not hesitate. They broke rank. They scrambled over each other, discarding weapons and dignity as they fled toward the exit, dragging their wounded tank with them. In ten seconds, the hall was empty.

Only the three monsters remained.

Valerica turned toward the hatch. The terrifying pressure of the Event Horizon faded, replaced by her usual radiant warmth. She walked over to where Vane and Isole were climbing out of the maintenance shaft.

“You look terrible, Vane,” Valerica said. Her golden eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked at his bloodied uniform. “I assume Ashe gave you that makeover?”

Vane pulled himself onto the floor and offered a hand to Isole. “She has a heavy swing. Thanks for the assist with the door.”

“Thank you for unlocking it,” Valerica replied. She looked at Isole. The High Elf was staring at her with a mixture of awe and fear.

“You…” Isole stammered. “You are a Gravity user. The Brawler style… it was just a containment method?”

“Something like that,” Valerica said with a shrug. She smoothed her white skirt, looking every inch the queen. “If I hit them with my real weight, they die. It is a difficult balance.”

She looked up at the ceiling. The building shook. Dust fell from the rafters.

“Speaking of Ashe,” Valerica said, her expression tightening. “She is coming. And judging by the vibrations, Anastasia is taking the elevator.”

She looked at Vane and Isole. The playfulness was gone.

“This room is about to become very small. Stay behind me. Even your Twilight cannot eat the sun, Isole.”

Vane gripped his spear. He looked at the Golden Goddess, then at the Saint beside him. The gang was all here.

“Let them come,” Vane said.

The elevator chimed.

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