[h3][color=efcc00]Archer “Griff” Griffin[/color][/h3][hr][justify][indent][indent][indent]The blast didn’t just hit him, It consumed him.

Wu Shufen’s eruption went off at point-blank, and Griff was the closest body in its path. For an instant, there was no separation between himself and the detonation, only obliterating force. His world shattered in fire and shockwave, the deck torn out from under him as he was hurled upward like a ragdoll caught in the fist of some furious god. His chest collapsed in on itself, his lungs emptied in a single ragged soundless gasp, his back arched as every nerve lit up at once.

Then there was only air.

The Mirage Space crumbled away, yet Griff’s trajectory continued unbroken, a violent arc into the open sky. Below, the carrier was a splintering carcass in flames; above, there was only void, the wind clawing at him, peeling him apart one frantic second at a time.

His ears rang with shrill static, drowning out the chaos below. His vision fractured into red tunnels and black sparks. His body, whipped by rushing wind, felt suddenly alien, too heavy, too fragile, too human.

And then…

[b]THUMP.[/b]

The first heartbeat. Heavy. Absolute. It struck through his ribs like a hammer, reverberating into every corner of his being. With it came the avalanche: pain rushing in all at once, like a floodgate kicked open.

His shoulder. The bullet wound he never realised he received tore wider, hot blood slicking his chest. His ribs groaned like cracked timber, each breath sharp and serrated. His legs seized, muscles knotting into agony. His fists trembled, the gauntlets biting into his skin.

[b]THUMP.[/b]

The second heartbeat ripped through him, harder, crueler. And with it, the gauntlets broke.

The steel didn’t simply fade, it convulsed, like metal dragged too far past its limit. Sparks spat from the seams, smoke hissed off glowing edges, plates collapsing inward as though swallowed by the weight of his exhaustion. The armor shrank, folding in on itself until all that remained were the plain bracers, quiet and meager against his skin. The storm was gone.

And in the absence of their weight, Griff felt everything.

Every wound he’d ignored, every muscle he’d pushed beyond breaking, every ounce of rage he’d used as fuel, It all crashed into him at once.

[b]THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.[/b]

The sound of battle below dissolved into nothing. Only the hollow roar of wind remained, rushing cold across his sweat and blood, dragging him higher still before gravity claimed him back. His pulse slowed. The fury bled away, leaving only exhaustion, hollow and infinite.

His eyelids flickered. Heavy. Impossible to hold open.

The air embraced him, cool and merciless, brushing against his skin as though the world itself were cradling him in his fall. His body twisted limply, each tumble pulling at wounds that screamed for attention, each spin another reminder of his frailty.

For one fleeting moment, it was calm. No shouting. No gunfire. No orders. No grief. Just the quiet throb of a heart on the verge of silence, and the dizzying pull of gravity calling him home.

[b]…thump.[/b]

His eyes slid shut.

The rage was gone. The fight was gone. And Griff fell, unconscious, a broken comet tumbling through the black toward the ruins below.[/indent][/indent][/indent][/justify]