Instead of soaring upward, his boots barely clear the ground. The air feels thick—like flying through syrup—and gravity yanks him back down.
He lands with a sharp thud.
"Tch."
He flexes his legs, adjusting. "Restrictions."
He extends his senses. It's subtle, but he can feel it—a thin net of spatial suppression layered across the air. Designed to keep them grounded. To keep them vulnerable.
Alix places two fingers in the air. A shimmer of transparent blue panel emerges—his inventory appears, displaying all his items.
He could tear the restriction apart in seconds.
But he doesn't.
"No need," he murmurs, letting his hand fall.
Instead, he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. The air smells faintly of dust, old stone, and mana. Not hostile. Not yet.
He opens them again and begins walking.
Alix walks in silence, boots tapping softly against the cracked stone. Each step echoes faintly in the open space, swallowed quickly by the vastness around him.
