I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 181 - 181: Limitation of the Soul Trait(2)

Mid-air, suspended in the vast emptiness between ceiling and floor, Ashok twisted his torso, straining to shift his body so he could land on his feet.

But no matter how much he willed his limbs to rotate, no matter how desperately he sought control, his body refused to generate force.

He was falling—yet not truly falling.

It was a slow, unnatural descent.

He wasn't plummeting like a stone, nor drifting like a feather.

Instead, he fell like a wingless fly, helpless in the air, descending toward the floor with no means to adjust his trajectory.

The chamber's silence made the experience even more surreal, amplifying the weight of his realization.

Six seconds passed in Negative Zero—an eternity in freefall—before he neared the ground. His body drifted rather than dropped.

Just as he approached the floor, Ashok extended his hand upward, pressing his palm against the floor with careful precision.

Then, with measured control, he brought his legs down, aligning his stance until his feet touched the ground. He straightened, standing firm. And in that moment—

A revelation struck him.

The Negative Aspect of his Gravity Trait wasn't flight. It was floating.

His breath hitched. 'This can't be.'

His mind raced, dissecting the implications.

This was a major limitation—one that could cripple his ability in combat.

If he couldn't generate force, if he couldn't maneuver mid-air, then his Gravity Trait was far less versatile than he had imagined.

But before doubt could take root—

Another thought surged through him. 'Don't think negatively. I should try again—maybe it'll work the second time.'

Gravity. Negative.

With only the First Time multiplier active, Ashok's body began to drift upward, his movements sluggish, almost dreamlike.

He flailed his arms, kicked his legs, twisting and contorting in a desperate attempt to generate motion.

But no matter how much he struggled, no matter how fiercely he willed himself to spin, his body refused to obey.

If someone had been watching, they would have been on the floor laughing—Ashok looked no different than a fish out of water, flapping his limbs in the air like a man who had just realized he had no idea how to swim.

His punches sliced through empty space, his kicks landed on nothing, and yet his trajectory remained unchanged.

The force of his movements dissipated into the void, useless against the all-encompassing effect of his ability.

Only when his head lightly bumped against the ceiling—with all the grace of a balloon meeting its inevitable fate—did he find a semblance of control.

The solid surface provided an anchor, allowing him to shift his position with careful effort. He pressed his palm against it, adjusting his stance, but the realization gnawed at him.

Determined to test it further, Ashok deactivated the multiplier, allowing himself to fall. He tried again—this time with the Zero multiplier—but the result was no different. His descent was slow.

As his feet touched the ground, the bad premonition that had lingered in the back of his mind finally solidified into undeniable truth.

The problem wasn't just that he was unable to maneuver mid-air.

The true realization was far worse.

He couldn't move in any direction except Up and Down.

He stared at the ceiling, then at the floor, then back at the ceiling.

"Who the fuck named it Gravity? This power should be called Unstoppable Elevator."

Why Unstoppable?

Because Ashok couldn't stop his body anywhere in midair.

Either he would keep floating up and up, or he would come down—there was no in-between.

No hovering, no careful positioning, no graceful aerial maneuvers. Just a relentless, binary movement.

His dream of peeping on the teachers? Crashed before it could even begin.

"No, that can't be happening."

Ashok clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath his skin as he drifted downward, his descent slow and deliberate, like a feather falling down without air.

He needed answers. He needed control.

But then, a realization struck him.

This world had no discoveries related to Gravity.

Theoretically, in a world where Mana existed as a form of energy and magic had developed continuously, someone should have discovered Gravity.

But in reality? No one had.

Because no one cared.

Power was the only thing that mattered.

With enough power, one could simply break the limits of space and time.

Didn't the Sword Emperor cut souls with a physical sword?

So why would anyone waste their time studying something like Gravity—when they could simply ignore its limits as they slowly ascended beyond S Rank?

Sweat dripped from Ashok's forehead, rolling down his temples as the weight of his predicament settled in.

The realization was slow, creeping up on him like a predator stalking its prey—he was fucked.

He possessed a Law of the World as his supernatural power, something that should have granted him unparalleled control over reality itself.

And yet, he didn't have the slightest bit of knowledge about the very law he wielded.

'Mother was right,' Ashok thought bitterly, wiping his damp palms against his clothes.

'I should have focused more on studying science instead of wasting my time on novels.'

He racked his brain, searching for anything—anything—that could help him in this scenario.

Then, a ridiculous thought surfaced.

'If I do a Dead Summoning Ritual in this world… will I be able to call the soul of Isaac Newton?'

Someone who discovered Gravity in his previous world should be able to help him… Right?

For a brief moment, he imagined it—Newton's ghost appearing before him, spectral and wise, only to take one look at Ashok's predicament and sigh in disappointment.

"You absolute buffoon," the ghost would say. "Did you even read my work?"

"No," Ashok would admit.

"Then perish."

Ashok groaned, rubbing his temples.

He knew these were pointless thoughts, desperate grasping at straws.

But what else could he do? If he had known he would reincarnate into this world, he would have studied science—even if he hated it to its core.

But there was no use lamenting the past.

"It seems trial and error is the only option I have," Ashok thought, exhaling sharply as he prepared himself.

With renewed determination, he began experimenting—pushing the Negative Aspect of his ability in every possible way.

In the search of breakthrough, Ashok cycled through every ridiculous position he could think of as he floated up and down like a malfunctioning amusement park ride.

At one moment, he was on all fours, his hands and feet pressed against the floor like a confused animal as he flew to the ceiling.

The next, he lay face-flat against the cold stone, as if the sheer force of his disappointment might somehow merge him with the ground.

Then, he flipped over, staring at the ceiling like a man contemplating his life choices.

He twisted, curled, stretched, and even attempted a mid-air somersault—none of it worked.

"I look like a damn circus act," he thought, exasperated.

No matter how much he flailed, kicked, or contorted his body, movement remained impossible.

What he needed was a tangible surface in the air—something to push against, something to grip.

But where the hell was he supposed to find something like that?

As he continued his increasingly absurd experiments, a realization struck him.

"I'm just wasting time."

But what else could he do?

What he wanted—no, needed—was a way to break the limits of this unstoppable elevator or, worse, this gas balloon of doom.

If he could just move an inch forward—just one, tiny, insignificant inch—then he could at least conclude that today wasn't a complete waste.

Though that didn't mean he was entirely without progress.

First, he discovered that he could change the degree of his Negative Trait mid-air. One moment, he would be floating upward at a sluggish pace, and the next, he would suddenly accelerate—though, frustratingly, this was only limited to going up.

'I am… a Speeding Elevator,' Ashok thought, deadpan.

Second, after all his ridiculous poses and failed attempts at movement, he stumbled upon another realization—in the Negative Zero state, he had become absurdly good at acrobatics.

He wasn't sure why or how, but his body felt unnaturally light, his movements fluid, almost effortless.

If he only maintained Negative Zero while on the floor, then suddenly, his body became a masterpiece of agility.

Handstands? Effortless. Backflips? Perfect execution. Front flips? Smooth as silk.

Movements that once seemed impossible—both in his previous life and without his supernatural trait—were now second nature.

"I am a Joker. Why should I be serious with life?" Ashok thought, flipping through the air like a man who had completely abandoned all sense of dignity.

And so, for the entire duration of his time in the Training Room, he continued his absurd experiments—twisting, flipping, floating, and occasionally questioning his existence.

During the entire ordeal of floating up and down, walking across the ceiling while shooting imaginary webs, and setting a personal record with a Triple Backflip, time never stopped.

Ashok had already heard two bells signaling the passing of two hours.

In truth, he had wanted to escape this bleakly lit training room long ago.

But then, he remembered his mother's words:

"Son, always remember—if you've purchased something, make sure to get at least two hundred percent out of it."

This was one of the teachings that had followed Ashok into this life, and there was no way he was leaving before the full three hours had passed.

His mental consumption had already drained more than half his bar—it felt like he had been grinding in a game for twelve straight hours. His eyes were droopy, tinged with redness, and a dull headache throbbed at his temples.

But by the end of the third hour—

At long last—

He finally achieved the breakthrough he had been searching for.