The physics of reversing your own gravity while attached to a rope anchored in a flying dragon were frankly absolute dog shit.
Sebastian was violently yanked upward into the freezing stormy sky. The sudden acceleration hit him like a freight train made of ice.
FWOOSH!
The wind at ten thousand feet did not just blow, it screamed. It tore at his ragged Drifter coat and clawed at his exposed face.
The ambient temperature was easily forty below zero and that was before factoring in the Level 50 Frost Monarch's passive aura. Every single breath he took felt like inhaling a handful of crushed razor blades.
"Fuck me, I hate flying commercial!" Sebastian grunted. His teeth locked together as he held onto the enchanted dwarven rope for dear life.
Down below, the valley was a blur of grey and white. Up ahead, the massive crystalline underbelly of Velkhana loomed like a falling ceiling.
He was reeling himself in at a terrifying speed.
