Kael's body staggered, his muscles tightening against an unseen force. A pressure—not physical, not tangible, but something deeper—wrapped around him, weighing him down like he was moving through thick, unseen currents.
His breath came slow, unnaturally slow. His heart pounded, yet the beat itself felt delayed, as if the world had decided time should move differently within this space.
Ronan gritted his teeth beside him, his movements sluggish, forced, unnatural. He flexed his arms, the faint hum of his
Dominion vibrating through his limbs, but it was like trying to push against the deep pull of the ocean.
Across from them, the Dominion user stood calm, poised, effortless.
A man dressed in the dark garb of the facility's enforcers, his expression unreadable, his presence like an iron grip on the world itself. His voice came smoothly, laced with quiet finality.
"You are struggling against inevitability."
He took a single step forward, and the world responded.
Kael's knee buckled. Not because he was weak. Not because he was tired. But because the act of standing had been denied.
The force of the Dominion pressed down harder.
Kael gritted his teeth, fighting against it, fighting against something he couldn't even see. His instincts screamed—his mind clawing at the unnatural sensation, searching for something to grasp, something to push against.
But there was nothing.
This wasn't like Elias' Severance.
Elias' power was absolute, violent, a thing that cut away reality itself. But this… this was different.
This was control.
It was as if the world itself had laws, and this man had simply rewritten them.
"The world moves because we allow it to."
The Dominion user's words carried no arrogance—just certainty.
Ronan snarled and acted first, a powerful lunge forward. His arms blurred as his Dominion flared, muscles shifting, adapting to counteract the pressure weighing on him.
For a second, it seemed to work. For a second, he was free.
Then, his momentum died mid-motion.
The sheer force of it sent a sickening whiplash through his body, like he had run into an invisible wall.
Kael's breath hitched.
Ronan stood frozen mid-strike, every muscle tense, but he wasn't bound by ropes, wasn't caught in any visible force.
The air itself had stopped him.
"That was foolish," the Dominion user murmured, his head tilting slightly. "You do not break Restraint. You only exhaust yourself against it."
He flicked a hand.
Ronan was hurled back as if gravity had decided to shift. His body crashed into a row of archive shelves, metal bending from the impact.
Kael barely registered the movement before his own limbs locked.
Not just his body—his very intent.
It was a horrifying sensation, like his will itself was being dictated by something beyond him. He wanted to move, he tried to move—but the world said no.
A pressure built behind his eyes.
Something deep inside him twisted. Shifted.
A pull—not external, but internal. A presence. A whisper.A call.
Kael's mark burned against his chest.
His pulse quickened, but not at his own pace.
For the briefest moment, the pressure around him weakened.
The Dominion user's eyes sharpened.
Kael didn't hesitate.
With every ounce of will he had, he moved.
His body lurched forward, breaking through the invisible grip that had locked him in place. His vision blurred, the world tilting—but he was free.
The enemy's expression flickered. Just slightly.
"Interesting."
Ronan, seeing the momentary lapse, reacted instantly.
With a snarl, he pushed everything into one decisive strike.
His Dominion surged through his body, muscles snapping into hyper-adaptive motion. His fist crashed forward—the air itself seemed to warp around the impact.
The enemy did not dodge.
He merely shifted a finger.
Ronan's attack landed—but wrong.
It was like striking the surface of water—impacting, but dispersing. The force of the blow rippled outward, leaving a strange distortion in the air.
But it was enough.
The Dominion user's control faltered for the briefest moment.
Kael felt the grip on him loosen.
He didn't think. He didn't hesitate.
He ran.
Ronan staggered, then followed.
The enemy did not chase.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he lifted a hand.
The facility shifted.
The hallways stretched. Doors closed where there had been none before. The walls elongated, stretched, twisted.
Reality itself was obeying his Dominion.
Kael and Ronan ran anyway.
Every turn led to another dead end. Every step felt like they were running in place.
A voice echoed behind them—calm, patient.
"You will not leave."
Kael's breathing was ragged. His mark pulsed. His mind flashed with something—something he didn't understand.
They needed an opening. A way out.
Something.
And then Kael saw it.
The locked cabinet.
The one with the warning.
A cabinet marked "Do not open under any circumstances."
Something inside him screamed.
Ronan's voice cut through the chaos: "Weneed to move!"
Kael's body didn't listen.
His hands were already reaching for the lock.
Kael opened it—something woke up.
A presence. A force long sealed away.
The facility itself reacted violently. The walls shuddered. The air turned thick, unnatural.
And for the first time, the enemy—the one who had dictated the laws of movement itself—took a step back.
His voice, once calm, now edged with something new.
"What have you done?"