Even from the distance he was at, the boy's eyes were sharp. He could see the crowd parting for one man, and it interested him greatly. He debated going down via elevator, but decided that that would take too long. His next decision he thought was almost suicidal. The boy simply slid himself off the roof, pointing his index finger straight at the ground as his body whistled through the atmosphere. Eventually his body would reach terminal velocity, and he kept falling. When he was about a hundred feet from the ground, he whispered something, almost like a prayer–a simple word. "Flux," was what he said, and a small, golf ball sized orb would form in front of his finger. The orb had an inky, dark purple texture, combined with a purple electricity crackling around it. It gave off a dark aura, one that might repulse the weak-willed. As he neared closer to the ground, he released his control on the orb. A miniature explosion was caused, not harming anybody in the crowd but launching the boy upwards before he could strike the ground. It stopped his momentum, and allowed him to simply fall into the crowd, no harm done. He groaned as he stood after tumbling from people to the ground, standing and searching for the man that looked like a king.