Chapter 19: The Weight of a C-Rank**
The guild hall buzzed with murmurs as Ethan approached the mission board, his newly registered C-rank status burning a hole in the collective curiosity of every adventurer present. Eyes followed him—some wary, others calculating, all wondering how an unknown mage had bypassed the usual months of grinding through F and D-ranks to land directly in the mid-tier.
Sophie's knights were no exception.
The golden-haired knight captain stood frozen near the bounty board, her squad clustered behind her like armored shadows. The hotheaded knight who'd attacked Ethan earlier—his name was Rylan, though Ethan hadn't cared to learn it until now—gripped his sword hilt so tightly his gauntlets creaked.
"That's impossible," Rylan hissed under his breath. "No one gets C-rank on their first assessment. Not unless they're nobility bribing the guild master."
Sophie's sharp elbow silenced him, but her own gaze remained fixed on Ethan's back, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Ethan ignored them all.
The mission board stretched before him, its surface crammed with overlapping parchments.
**[C-Rank Quests]**
- *Extermination: Cave Serpents in the Hollow Marsh* (Party recommended)
- *Escort: Merchant Caravan to Frostvale* (High bandit activity)
- *Investigation: Disappearances in Blackwater Village* (Suspected cult activity)
[B-Rank Annihilation]**
*Blackfang Valley - 15 Nightrend Wolves*
*Reward: 200 gold crowns*
A gauntleted hand slammed against the board next to his, pinning the bear extermination notice.
"I'll take this one," Sophie declared, her stormcloud eyes burning with challenge.
The guild hall held its breath.
Ethan studied her for a moment—the way her knights clustered behind her like armored shadows, the faint glow of runes along her sword's fuller. Too many variables. Too much noise.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He tore down the wolf notice.
The guild erupted.
"You can't take that!" the quest clerk shouted. "That's a B-rank! You're barely certified for—"
Ethan dropped a still-dripping Steelclaw head on the counter. The mutated skull bore perfect crushing damage, brain matter oozing through fractured bone. "I'll take the wolves."
Sophie's breath hitched. That bear had been killed with *one strike*.
Rylan laughed. "Let him! Maybe the wolves will finally shut his—"
**Chapter 19 (Continued): Wings of Gravity**
The guild doors swung shut behind Sophie as she stepped into the afternoon sun, her knights following like armored shadows. The crisp air carried the scent of hay and smithing fires from the nearby market square.
And there he stood.
Ethan Blackwood hadn't moved from where they'd last seen him. His back was turned to them, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon where Blackfang Valley lay beyond the city walls. The wind tugged at his dark coat, making him look more like a statue than a man.
Rylan snorted. "Looks like the mighty mage doesn't know how to get to his own mission."
Sophie ignored the jab. She studied Ethan's still form—the slight tilt of his head, the way his fingers twitched at his sides as if calculating unseen variables. He wasn't lost. He was deciding.
"You can ride with us," she called out, her voice cutting through the bustling street noise. "If you don't have transport."
For a moment, Ethan didn't react. Then, without turning, he said, "Thanks."
Rylan smirked, opening his mouth to gloat—
"I'll fly."
The words hung in the air for half a heartbeat before the ground beneath Ethan's boots cracked. An invisible force rippled outward, sending dust and pebbles skittering across the cobblestones as the very air around him distorted.
Then he rose.
Not like the graceful ascension of wind mages on their enchanted staves. Not like the blessed paladins who called upon divine wings.
Ethan shot upward like an arrow loosed from a bow, the sheer force of his takeoff sending a shockwave that knocked Rylan back a step. In seconds, he was a speck against the clouds, then gone entirely.
The street fell silent. A merchant dropped his basket of apples. A child pointed and screamed.
Rylan's face had gone pale. "What... what in the Seven Hells was that?"
Sophie's grip tightened on her sword hilt as she stared at the empty sky. "Gravitational propulsion," she murmured. "He's not just negating weight—he's reversing his own mass to create thrust."
One of the younger knights, a boy barely out of training, whispered, "But... only Archmage level could do that. -"
The implications settled over them like a physical weight. Flight wasn't just rare—it was supposed to be impossible without elaborate preparations. Yet Ethan had done it with a thought.
Rylan's voice shook with forced bravado. "S-showoff. Probably burns through his mana in seconds."
Sophie didn't answer. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon where Ethan had disappeared, her mind racing with calculations.
If he could do this casually...
What else was he capable of?
---
High above the farmlands, Ethan cut through the sky like a blade. The wind screamed past him, but his gravitational field kept it from tearing at his clothes or skin. Below, the world blurred—forests became dark smudges, rivers thin silver threads.
He adjusted his trajectory with minute shifts of his fingers, increasing the downward force behind him to accelerate. The ground rushed up at terrifying speed, but he didn't slow. Not until the last possible second.
With a controlled pulse of reversed gravity, he landed in the heart of Blackfang Valley, his boots touching down without disturbing a single blade of grass.
---