The goblins, Senon and Aster tried to follow Ain, but he glanced over his shoulder and said with a grave monotone. "Stay here."

There was something different about Ain. When they saw his expression, and when his demeanor resonated within them, they realized that until then, Ain wasn't taking anything seriously. In fact, it could be said that he was even having fun. The person he was in that moment was something else.

Ain, in truth, was a warlord who murdered millions for the Edict, and lived for a thousand years, in his past. It was easy to forget that. It was clear that Ain regretted his path, and cursed the Sword that put him on that path, but it was extremely dangerous to assume that Ain would never go down that same path again if it was necessary.

The problem with living for a thousand years was losing one's humanity -- empathy and common sense -- and then madness. Once a person reaches their eighties, and is still "young", one becomes ambivalent about the suffering of others. At one hundred fifty, one might begin enjoying the suffering of others.

Among practitioners, this was easily attributed to God Complex, and even the independent Sects of the past got around that problem by holding tournaments every decade. On top of that, constant crises that plagued the world, in that era, also did away with the God Complex.

But the real problem begins when one reaches the age of between two hundred and three hundred. Those who do not become extremely loyal to the leader of their cause become rogue berserkers, and even those that do become loyal to a cause can easily commit atrocities in pursuit of it. There was no cure for this -- no convenient tournament or crisis to remind them of their mortal roots. In fact, they were the ones who became the crisis.

Beyond the age of five hundred madness was likely, progressing in severity as the centuries piled on. It wasn't the raving stark lunatic kind of madness, either; it was subtle. Complete or partial detachment from reality resulted in looking at mortals as playthings, pawns or sacrifices for one's own entertainment. Nothing was sacred anymore, except for things that could not be acquired by mortal hands -- they had to be usurped from the Gods, Heaven or Abyss. And that is how most era changes were initiated. The Calamity Wars, the Great Realm Wars, the Schism; countless tragedies of the past were, in some way, related to these individuals, and there was little anyone could do to stop them.

The point is, Ain was one of those people. Although his Reincarnation has had a soothing effect on his madness, and his regret has put him back in touch with his Human roots, he was still not quite a model example of Humanity. By comprehending Pillars and obtaining the Axioms and Catechisms that came with that, one's mind fundamentally changes and copes with the madness; perhaps directs it is a more apt description.

In that very moment, Ain felt battle-lust. Not the kind of thing that begins bar fights, but the kind that slaughters Planars and obliterates an entire exo-plane, forcing it to rebuild itself. Ain was, and always has been, this kind of individual. His cause was the Sword, and in pursuit of its pinnacle, he has slaughtered countless and nameless things; mostly in honorable combat. He has challenged entire Cosmoi -- constellations of exo-planes -- and it has not always been a victory.

Ain has died countless times in this pursuit, only to self-resurrect himself and continue the battle. He was unstoppable, and eventually he was also invincible. However, it was important to note, that although the Calamity Lord could not kill Ain permanently -- there were quite a few close calls, though -- Ain had never killed the Calamity Lord; Not even once.

And now, that same kind of heat pulsed in his veins. That familiar quiet settled on his mind, and his senses sharpened. He could feel the electrical buzz of his nerves tingling as the cool air embraced his skin. A fourteen-point star appeared in each one of his eyes, similar to Senon's eyes but not quite, and one could still see the pupil and iris, even though barely. Each point on the star had a brilliant white glow, with a lensed bloom in the shape of a sword.

Ain was once called the Calamity God, because the fourteen-point star had become a symbol of the Calamity Wars due to the shape of the Sword Formation that had killed the World Wyrm, and provoked an extinction event from the Radix. Ain was no divinity, though. Initially, he was called the Calamity Sword God -- the Sword God meaning a distinction of the highest order -- but the Sword was dropped in favor of likening Ain to a God of Destruction, when he laid to waste dozens of exo-planes.

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The corridors were long and winding. The whole Faction Estate was weaved with a type of spatial magic -- a specialty of Ain's -- to make the interior larger than the exterior. The Estate would ideally be able to one day hold a thousand of Ain's disciples, but right now, there were not that many. It was packed with facilities for most types of training, refinement, crafting, and it even possessed short-range teleportation gates for getting around the Estate. It was a modern-day wonder and quite expensive to build. Though, if Def continued to deepen his understanding of Dimensions, the Estate could easily increase in size to hold ten thousand disciples, if not more.

Eventually, Ain made it to the meeting hall. He intentionally did not take any of the teleportation gates, perhaps hoping, in a distant and suppressed part of his mind, that his battle-lust would end. But it didn't; it became stronger.

As Ain walked into the chamber, he noticed two figures. A Demon with horns curving backwards on themselves, and an individual entirely clad in black armor. The latter's armor glowed with purple-black particles, which was an indication of the following things: the Principle of Nothingness, the Principle of Emptiness, or the influence of the Abyss.

"Duke Ain," the Demon spoke as Ain entered. "It is my pleasure to inform you that the Tribune Faction finds you guilty of treason and that you are still under investigation for sedition."

The Demon was well-dressed, and Ain could sense a considerable amount of power coming from him -- by normal standards at least. The Demon was Sotan.

"Your cold-blooded murder of Jax Travain has been witnessed by hundreds of Demons. As a result of your actions, you have forfeited sovereignty over your Faction. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Ain looked at the armor-clad figure and smiled coldly. "Agon," he said with a cold tone.

The figure smiled in return, with the same coldness, and though his face wasn't visible, one could feel the smile. It crawled up Ain's arms in the form of goosebumps. "Ain."

Sotan briefly looked in Agon's directions, and then his brows furrowed in anger. "Duke Ain. What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked again, this time pouring venom and righteous anger into his tone.

Now, Sotan, his entire life, believed that he was one of the chosen. He was a genius, by modern era standards, dedicated and hard-working. However, he could not join the Elite faction. He had won tournaments and countless accolades, all in order to reverse that decision, but he could not, no matter what, be accepted into the faction in which he saw his rightful place. According to them, he was weak-willed.

Sotan made the grave error of interpreting his own spite and dominant nature as having a strong will, but in truth, he was just a vengeful bully. Unknowingly demonstrating this, he created the Tribune Faction in order to create a new Elite faction, and punishing the old one. Although, he never succeeded in taking down the Elite faction, or creating a new one, he did, in a way, find himself in the place he desired -- that of a Ruler.

Another grave error Sotan made was believing that he was beyond retaliation and that he was invincible. That was the last mistake he would ever make.

Ain drew his sword, baring the cold blade of Avarice for only a full centimeter, before sheathing it again. The click of the sword settling into the scabbard was so impossibly loud that the stone floor underneath Ain was pulverized, the cracks climbing along the wall to the ceiling, and Sotan's skin underwent such an extreme change in temperature that it turned to gray ash, his hair caught fire, and his organs were crushed to sludge by the pressure wave.

Sotan didn't even have time to scream. He just fell to the ground in a pile of dust and grotesque remains as the entire room around him crumbled and warped. Furniture caught fire, glass-ware shattered and launched across the room in the form of molten globules, iron and steel warped and melted.

Strangely enough, the sound did not travel beyond the room, thanks to the magical enhancements and profane architecture.

The armor-clad figure did not even react to the sound, or seem bothered, much like Ain.

To those two titans, something like that sound was an everyday occurrence a long time ago. It was nothing worth mentioning.

Several seconds passed in silence before Agon spoke first. "I heard you've become quite merciful, Ain. Are you not going to revive him?"

Ain slowly drew his sword again, this time freeing the blade entirely. "I am out of mercy."

"I see," Agon replied and there was a noticeable change in his tone.

The two stood motionless for a moment longer, both aware that only one of them would come out of this alive.

Agon made the first move by jumping backwards, and slashing his hand through the air. It happened in an instant: A multi-colored rift of warped space opened up and swallowed Agon, and Ain, both surprised by and glad for Agon's cowardice, opened his own rift and jumped through in pursuit.

At the very least, they would not destroy his very expensive Faction Estate.