The ground beneath Vikram's feet shook as the Core's gravitational pull increased.
Heavy steel crates, broken tools, and shattered glass began to float, drifting toward the spinning black sphere in the center of the room. Vikram had to use his Prana to anchor his boots to the metal floor.
Devendra waved his hand.
A wave of distorted space shot toward Vikram. The air warped, bending the light around it. Vikram folded into the shadow, but the gravitational pull of the wave caught his shoulder, dragging him out of the fold and throwing him five feet across the room.
He crashed onto the metal floor, his elbow scraping against the steel.
"Your shadow-folding is useless here, Rathod," Devendra mocked. "The gravity of the Core bends everything—light, dark matter, and your little Prana field."
Devendra raised both hands, and a massive chunk of the concrete ceiling broke free, floating above Vikram's head.
"Let's see you slip this," Devendra said.
He drove his hands down, and the three-ton block of concrete crashed toward the floor, aimed directly at Vikram.