Blood Domain. An ability of Death, albeit a piece of it, undoubtedly. Domains were binding on the lofty Laws, being part of them like breath of people, but still distant enough to be their own thing. Blood was Ozeki's highly regarded action, or like every blood should be for any devil.
Domains were intimate and his own had carried him against the foes on the battlefields for as long as it was necessary. Devils bathed in this glory, carrying the blood of others or their own. Some did not, so they played with martial arts or their hearts like playful little toys.
Almost all Domains worked in wide spectrums and dense principles, ranging primarily from Paths to critical decisions and aspects of mana, which touched all sorts of elemental affinities. With Paths being countless, breathing cultures, options, and concepts from many Skies, it was no wonder there were different expectations for people and them alike.
They could be anything, looking like a powerful self-inflicted aura, wide-spreading influence, or something like an Authority; an unadulterated control over reality, coming from within and coming out. For many beings in the Battleworld, their true value started at the Extreme stage, with Gods truly mastering what they were entitled to.
Such an ability encompassed Paths with their concepts, which was essentially their true essence, or a little front. It could be the simple weight of a person, mana, gravity, or a move that came with layers like an overbearing planet. They also had limits, giving their user pain and stress because a loss of domain meant a certain loss of something important.
In a wider, if not some weird spectrum, they could attend beliefs, Intent, Laws, or techniques stemming from extreme heart and dedication to some martial art, or weapon. Many legends described it as a stepping stone to the Divinity, with truth being a first glimpse into the Samsara. They were highly flexible to one's needs, thus one's Domain was often changing, growing, and transforming at many points over one's Path or life.
It held a certain truth, poising as a weight and power not everyone could possess. They could be a step in sword dances, a swing of an arm of a boxer, or a clasp of sounds that would turn the surroundings into their area of influence. When these ideas clashed, it was a spectacular sight. When one moves to one without power or meager equality, a disadvantage could be well imagined.
Domains worked internally when one didn't expand it forward, or note its worth as a key trump card. Their weight, revolution, and power should remain and contain one's pace, body, or mind. Dense principles and amassing understanding, until it would come closer, were admirable.
It could burst onwards, as it was meant to empower those walking ahead, directly crashing against opponents and surroundings. Giving a better chance of survival against tough or impossible adversaries was another benefit. They were generally attuned to many aspects, and upgrading and supporting them was tough yet workable as long as some criteria, understanding, or control followed strict path principles.
It was like with Intent. It might come suddenly, not easily, and not again, or again and again. Like a candle, Extremes and those below have limited lifespans. Domains were similar to that and weren't easily comprehended.
In essence, an ability that appeared when one's power reached some limit, coming like the Intent, and empowering new or old potential, was not easily manipulated. Overcoming boundaries would bring some logic behind these Domains, or give a glimpse into multiple forms. Legends said some people could wield many of them at the same time, or fuse them, and even teach them to others.
There were parts to Domains, with the weakest being Low Domains that one could achieve below the flimsiest of the Laws. Those were always very hard and often ridiculous to reach, get them a passable vision, or understand their principles and proficiency. Those around Level 60 should be absolute freaks to have them, but in general, Level 70s had them.
Medium Domains were for those that already observed some Laws to a greater degree or their luck or specific domain was extremely compatible, if not perfected. It gave a person--who already established themselves in their Path--incredible benefits. But even among these cases, many wouldn't get far, let alone bring out their full potential, or comprehend domains far enough.
By numerous standards from the Hells or the Surface, Low Domains were a rarity that would appear in Lawful beings once in hundreds of cases, and in those lower once in a couple of millions or even higher. Medium Domains were even rarer. It was said their possibilities were like blessings from the heavens because there were far more beings below the Laws and Level 70 in general.
That was the weight Domains carried. Unlocking them came like a lot of other specialties, designed as a gift or a blessing, or coming from the heart of magic. It was an essential part of the world and oneself, so it wasn't a Blessing, so this world wouldn't be able to grant it even in the most privileged accomplishments.
It wasn't for weaklings. That was fine unless one would move through limits and get it through sheer will or some sudden familiar grasp. Right. Blessed and Wicked were absolutely crazy because they carried experiences of another life and usually another world.
Sometimes, there were Blessed originating from Battlworld, which wasn't wrong or respectable. They might be from a completely different part of the world, as each continent was vast like a different world.
After Medium Domains was the power of Extremes. At this stage, Domains were one of many pivotal aspects that carried their core strengths and principles. Hence, their entire moves could carry the weight of their whole being, or look no different than a simple move. Such was the domain of the extreme peak of mortals.
For them, it could be the simplest aura or a single attack, shredding the surroundings to pieces, entertaining the entire armies, or giving their attacks and spells specialized traces, or attributes. It empowered everything that an Extreme followed or wished for.
Ozeki held a Medium Domain. A bloody aura went out of him like a swirling mass of wind and bloody fog, pressing on Ceila, while his spear in hand squeaked as if it was breaking apart. Waves of blood swayed, coming into contact with hot ground and air, yet nothing about it dissipated.
Ozeki focused on enduring waves specifically, denying his Domain's wide variant that opposed his heart blood. By pointing it onward, he moved his spear and let it be his key. Only then he set against Ceila and her Paladins and showed its weight.
His spear was extraordinary, looking at least three meters long, slightly below Ceila's height and well above his own. Its weight was like its girth, thick and heavy like branches of old trees. Sharpness was included, but it was no sword.
The pole was also heavy and without apparent flexibility. It looked heavy and even the spearhead was the same, looking rectangular, not curved at the sides but still looking powerful. Such spears were thrusters, meant to be savage in forward-facing strikes, momentum, and fierce swipes.
It could do just fine in some flexibility as well, thanks to its wielder, but Ozeki liked mass and the sheer spearhead's weight and length were impossible to change. Only a wielder could. The sharp edge was at least two heads long and thick, looking oddly brief since the dedicated patterns were straightforward, becoming the fierce sharp point that Ozeki loved.
This was a genuine savage spear. A king of weapons across many battlefields and countless worlds. Common with generals and great martial artists, flexible or heavy spears had their range and an incredibly high ceiling of mastery and craftsmanship. For many eras, they kept being very elevated weapons in the Battleworld.
Ever since he was little, a spear was Ozeki's primary weapon. As for the one in his grasp, it was undoubtedly his most precious one, as it carried him to his former height, and also his lowest points. It was a one-of-a-kind creation, without any other copy in the world, which made it into a unique Law Artifact designed just for him.
Could there be a stronger spear in this world, carrying better resources, edge, craftsmanship, and sublime arts? That went without a single doubt, for there were heights that Ozeki never reached, let alone saw and met.
Gods were distant, and even Overlords and Sages were no different. This was far from the peak, considering Artifacts from old ages or far Skies were like fateful encounters or very precious tools. Equipment pieces that had incomprehensible history stemming from Dungeons and many famous blacksmiths were also not that different, yet tell that to stubborn devils who just couldn't decide on certain things.
For the military and many individuals in this world—or outside of its origin—weapons and armor were paramount and their highest priorities were close and never weak. If they got weak, the wielder would fail. They needed to be perfected and move within the degrees of levels. That was common.
For mages, mana was enough. It was an inescapable hurdle, though mages weren't as prevalent over the battlefields as one would think. In many parts of the Battleworld, they weren't common and considered harder to grow, thus seen as objects of awe, mastery, or particular high standing.
Still, they weren't royalty. Gods were one of those reasons, while churches might have some involvement as well. The true major causes were resources, talents, and the necessity of luck and continuity.
In the art of war of all men, weapons, armor, and a simple way of slaughtering one another was simpler than figuring out secrets of magic and rules of this world. Following formulas, and even Laws were also harder, and one had to have mind and body set on this mysterious world of magic. Weapons were simpler in comparison, though also very complex at the peak.
Mana was considered sacred and sublime in mastery. Mages were much more stoic than those full of bloody aura and murders. They were fools! Flesh and steel were menacing, thus easier to manage, grow, and force from deaths and wars. Surface, Sky, and Hells understood this assignment.
Yet when the two sides of these concepts connected, insanity reigned supreme.
Ozeki might be considered a mage. His body held a Blood Core, and his body and blood connected to mana and even Awakened twice, creating dense primal strength over his Path Core that revolved around his blood, slaughter, wars, and spears. His weapon was equal to all of it, making his Path of Slaughter immaculate, though his growth nearly halted because of his failures, and his heart grew old.
He turned it up a notch against Ceila and these Paladins because he could not see any other way out of here. They were targets for life! A loud noise that pestered him and called him weak. He ought to fight it. Slaughter it! He experienced Paladins and countless churches, so Ozeki would not yield.
He fought numerous times, peeking at these armored fortresses with crazy skills and radiance. But Ceila was different; something in him was death set on that idea and he wasn't entirely convinced his side could take them all head-on. Unfortunately, it was too late to change anything.
If Ozeki wouldn't kill or wound at least half of them, he was no former member of the First Legion! He should make his heart proud and his race and Hell restless.
Wielding treasures from the Old World, Hells, or Divine Kingdoms counted a lot, whether one lived by blood or died by such appealing ideals. Knowing where and how they came forth made history, powerful pieces, and worth. Ozeki realized these Paladins were full of such treasures and stank of Divinity.
Assuming the mortal plains as the most common places for wars, these kinds of foes were rare to meet when one looked broadly, and Ozeki planned not to forget it.
The spear named Ize Spear came from Levandis, who gifted it to her rising subject many years ago. Its limited Level 85 was fine for him and more than enough for others to steal. Many Extremes would kill for such treasures because it was close to the Divine endorsement. Personally, he knew and slayed Extremes who desired its versatile control and consequence.
It had one pivotal role in magic. It was exceptionally adaptable to all Mana Cores, creating a link and empowerment like the finest Catalysts. It was flexible in taking anything one would give it, and its quality might outlast any era.
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Considering its width was barely fine for a single-handed grip, this spear looked far too large for normal stature. Even for Ozeki, it seemed big, as it was heavy and intense, yet what would make a good spear anyway?
Wasn't the heaviness, the thickness of the handle, and size a detrimental factor? When one knew how spears functioned, wouldn't it be better to adapt to functionality over heaviness?
Well, a lot of weapons had a lot of visions that often become obsolete because of the one wielding them. Then, it could be terrible because of the one wielding them. It was a rather fundamental issue, which made people and tools good yet challenging.
Too much weight in a spear was often a burden, but not for Ozeki, whose Domain crashed against the spear, mending it to his hand, guiding it forward as if it weighed like a sword.
Surprisingly, the key aspect of this spear wasn't its spearhead, but its handle made of Ize Piece, an ancient alloy that no longer existed. Since the name of this spear came from its handle, the spearhead was secondary, though it was still precious. The handle was a basis for mass and volume, and where the hand bore its surface.
Ize Piece was a cold and sharp alloy with a density that could never weaken. Bending under enough weight or clutch was possible but it would never break. It would go back, creating a powerful shock-wave instead.
While the tip wasn't as good as the shaft, it was still a tip of Colorless Rainbow Ore. A material found in a couple of kilograms per thousand square kilometers in distinct locations throughout some planets or asteroid belts.
Weight carried force. Combat weapons had to have flexibility while maintaining a reasonable weight was one step to perfection. In a fight, any advantages mattered and the weight of the body or weapons was enough to create a wide disparity between life and death.
As Ozeki held his spear, pointing it ahead, and weighing his choices, Ceila embraced his daunting blood with her gauntlets.
She watched Ozeki with some interest as she determined her choices. Razmund was here; Ozeki closer. She should be in no hurry whatsoever but something was irritating her. Her Lady hadn't called for a while. Levandis was the same, perhaps.
Tolerating a weapon that was higher than Ozeki's prowess, some touches of his heart or moves might soon change everything. Like the Domain and blood that felt deafening and like a sea raging current, she should split it in half.
Ceila never fought this devil. She was aware of their prospect and the sight of this spear and irritation made her reluctant to be too savage. She wanted to steal it and store it in the First Pagoda for her Lady. It would be a fine addition to the underground facility as well, or it might be a gift for those who need it more. Another option was to send it straight to the Sky, giving an Offering a try.
“Hm. CHARGE!” Ozeki suddenly shouted, lowering his posture, twisting the handle in his double-gripped stance that went lower and concluded Ceila's clutch.
He pushed himself forward with a roar, and his Domain developed and flowed around him like wild dancing waves, moving around his spear as if the blood was everywhere, tip included.
A turn of his hip swayed and turned like a tide, cracking the ground below his feet when he made this move. His hands soon followed. Spears's tip lurched from the strange crimson dance, creating a hole in one wave where Ceila didn't expect it. Traveling in a split second, a brutal and sinister strike reached her pretty face.
Ceila intercepted it with an unlikely defense. She grabbed the edge with her hand again, deflecting it as if she bore an old shark before jumping away.
Ozeki stabilized himself with a powerful stomp to the ground, leaving deep cracks and one straight line before him on the ground that went for hundreds of meters. Retreating Ceila stood leisurely aside, and neither of her Paladins were in the way of this strike.
“Group one and two. Each takes one Radiant Paladin. Follow principles of defense and survival and count on setbacks. Follow formation X and U.” Ozeki ordered his men without glancing behind him. Immediately afterward, he pounced at Ceila, who observed her hand. The gauntlet was in pieces, revealing her slightly glowing hand and bare skin. There were some tattoos.
He didn't make it easier, had he? How bothersome, Ceila thought as she mishandled this armor.
Ozeki followed his words with a powerful wave of a bloody wave. He swung his spear, creating a blood-colored blade that went ahead like the wind, striking one of the closest Paladins who was most relaxed out of everyone. It was a hard thing to call it right. Without Ozeki's hunch and smell, perhaps there was no choice besides a lucky pick.
As his heart desired, he did what he wanted while Razmund wished for more. Perhaps taking care of Ceila and one Radiant Paladin was too much for him, but not like it was a deep problem. Everything proceeded by an inevitable plan. It was very doubtful, yet so unexpectedly clever, that it made Ozeki almost laugh.
Razmund did not doubt it anymore; something drove a brutal move against him and plotted something terrible, and it wasn't Levandis, so that was shocking. General military, or some groups from this Gate or others. He would accept them. Ceila or something about churches or the Sky was a distant and outlandish ideal.
Frankly, Razmund should be glad how he forced everything in this direction and played it safe. That, however, might not be the greatest choice as per Ozeki's words because crushing Murai's opposition might've been better. Alas, a church was a church and gods were behind everything anyway.
They were working with numerous powerful possibilities. Hopefully, Ozeki would make it through without considerable losses. Frankly, if he couldn't, that was fine too. It propelled enough sincerity on everyone's part, as the weighted reward waited for no cures, but betrayals or reasonable benefits.
Well, Razmund wasn't sure how Ozeki's Helper status worked or allowed his heart to heal. Perhaps he was overlooking something critical once again. He never heard any Voice or any godly message since he got going and got this Helper.
Trusting the process was fine, so Razmund moved accordingly, ignoring or pretending that the Voices or reasons around this world were gone, yet still functioned in a way. It wasn't fine; he took it like a temporary accident. A simple blunder like delves into some nasty dungeons.
Following hopes that Gods must cherish at all costs, he trusted them and their shitty Encounter still followed some reasons, giving these Sides what they deserved, feared, or desired.
Or Razmund was taking advantage of Ozeki regardless of anything, or Gods did. Ozeki was meant to shield Razmund no matter what, and his heart would cement it by overflowing and mending after many years of stagnancy and doubts.
That was the Voice Ozeki heard after his Pledge. It was simple in premise and simpler in its methods, though it wasn't coming from his Lady or his heart, but more like a devil whispering behind his head.
It was no reward that would come with Boosts, but an ideology, threat, and act that might be different and difficult like giving wars a try. He would grant it. No one else but him.
Modifications when one was reaching the limits came in two ways; within, or outside. For devils, their hearts mattered more than their potential cores, allowing them to grow to new heights and transformations.
Ozeki surely met his match. Perhaps a bit too much, but he would work hard for a transformation that might never come again. He was its taker. Razmund was just a tool; his premise that went ahead and left him to his own device or End.
It was acceptable.
Dust fell, a bloody cut swayed the heat, and the earth shook when a sweep cleaved at that glistering armor. Ozeki forced one of the Paladins away, crashing the bloody spear against that sturdy armor and shield. Then, he swung his spear at Ceila far and wide all by himself, forcing her other arm up from her hip. She flew to a distance, cruising through the hot plain like a kite met with a wild wind.
That left Razmund alone, standing beside the Demonic Horses. Howls and tremblings echoed when a small army around him—made of Ozeki's finest officers and soldiers—charged in two defensive formations ahead, aiming their weapons and numbers at the remaining Paladins.
It should be possible for them to survive, but Ozeki had his doubts. In practice, Radiant Paladins far exceeded the scope of this clash. His Lady should have known better to not let them in. She should've sent someone a long time ago, or was she pretending, or leaving him to a death end?
If so, Ozeki should rather stall before it was too late. It was clear that those Paladins weren't equal to the weakest part of this pact. They might be straight-up Extreme equivalents, if not stronger, yet Ozeki was never sure of it because of Ceila and her demeanor.
She felt... stronger. How? She was below Level 70 according to the common sense of Vermillion Church. She didn't feel like that in the slightest, so Ozeki took her as one of his main targets. As for Ultium and David, they were Razmund's problem as far as Ozeki saw his prospects.
“That fucker,” Razmund cursed alone, standing and examining this change of pace. He slapped and kicked his horse. It growled at him, but moved aside, knowing the battle was starting. It was no place for an unnecessary mount.
Even Ozeki's soldiers partially dismounted, charging and battling it out with the remaining Paladins, who didn't crash them like adults playing against children. They fought well, collected, and kind of... slow. Both sides did.
Razmund considered his perspective and smiled as a helpless fisherman met with a poor catch. Being sidelined between three battlefields wasn't that awful. Each flank shall die and decide their battles.
Paladins glowed in radiance and strength as they moved, unleashing potent attacks that soon slammed against those formations. They survived heavy hammer strikes, but the last remaining mounts did not. Demonic Horses growled, whipped their tails and tails, and their broken legs bent, sending them to the ground. Better soldiers stumbled instead, protecting their lives, brandishing shields and spears, and striking at their rather ridiculous target.
One Paladin had a hammer made of white steel that looked like snow. The other had a halberd, hitting wildly and from afar. Their weapons glowed ever so brightly, taking the heat and radiance of that artificial sun for a great sign, which allowed them to expand their strength, so their armor shined.
Illuminated ornaments and runes all over them came off as disrespectful, or like a terrifying consequence to this Hell. Meeting and seeing those sights, most of the soldiers hesitated and fell behind against this pressure.
A bloodbath was incoming. They ought to make this ground proud. Instead of feeling pity, they began to chant, and shout, and their momentum expanded.
Everything about Paladins looked as if they didn't come from this world, which was correct. Every slash chipped a portion of soldiers from the formations, and their utter silence and confidence were deafening.
And they didn't go for the kills, even though not that many lawful beings were in these formations. Razmund found that odd. They weren't trying in the slightest, whereas the overall quality and level of Ozeki's soldiers weren't as impressive. At least for Razmund. According to Hellscape, such a regiment of soldiers was able to crush the majority of gangs or cease their activity for a long time.
They moved as one, stood as one, and went against them as one.
Paladins didn't fear a thing. They weren't machines, however. They were living beings like anyone else but grew up in the Divine Kingdoms, which were outside of the realm of numerical numbers, Boosts, and common views that touched mortals and mortals touched it back.
Their strength and aura were otherworldly for a reason. Stages from the Battleworld had various implications because of cultures, so many options followed comparable principles.
It was fine to regard power in stages or levels. It cleared things up for everything since the very first epoch. Extremes were strong in one way or another, and Lawful beings were precious because they had their Laws, but they were weaker than Extremes. See, a disparity. That wasn't the case forever, and it won't be here for a long time either, for the universe had its cycles and the growth of Divides had its merits.
For mortals and many Gods, it didn't make a single difference. Lives could become weak, short, and insignificant. Paths relied on Laws and their aspects, following the growth like people touching all sorts of Paths. It created a cycle where appeal followed everything like a magnetic field.
The rules of the Divides were eternal. Those were the truths that were incapable of changing but looping and making sense in the grand scheme of lives and deaths.
Divinity was part of it like a sprinkle of magic due to spells and energies. However, Divides weren't magic. They were rules, acting as a stage on their own. Magic was above and below and always up to the mortals struggling for the Divinity. Gods were just powerful mortals, who thought far and could go further.
It was no wonder that Divinity was sought as a different power in many Sectors and Epochs. It had its ups and downs. Some of which might be far above the mortal realms.
These Paladins were known as Radiants. That was enough of a title to give them enforcer-like status for their Divine Kingdoms. They could be equal to Extremes, or Lawful beings, yet their places to shine were different depending on place and time because some places would never allow their existence. The same could be said for Chaos itself, which crossed many boundaries in its existence.
Radiants were a military hierarchy, so their ranking systems went according to their respective Divine Kingdoms. Gods did not need Levels, but they sure needed Order to make things tangible for those below them, or looking up to them. That meant taking mortal realms and their own Divine Kingdoms as separate yet intimate ideas.
Paladins fundamentally came, lived, and performed their duties for their Gods, and their power and beneficial relations came from there as well. Their steps and acts in the mortal realms were limited like the steps of Gods.
Down in the Battleworld, their mere presence was an act of Divine Will, though few of them would wield extreme embodiments of their Divine Kingdoms. Only in some wars, they were allowed to shine since their powers were equalized to their current prospects or purposes. Thinking of them as natives of a different world wasn't far-fetched, and every one of their descends had an objective.
It was never lawless, or unreasonable. In fact, many Gods took acts of sending military forces from their Divine Kingdoms as very sensitive and very serious. It had its rules and moving against them might come with punishment due to the adhering reality of the Tribunals and Pantheons.
Gods looked out for each other; for grudges, friends, or opportunities. Divine Kingdoms above, on, or in the Battleworld, were not simple.
For mortals, Paladins were no different from great royalty beyond their mortal realms. For Hell, they were arrogant assholes spreading nonsense to the wrong land. Hence, they might be worse no matter their purpose, ranks, or desire that accompanied their descent. Hells would kill them on sight!
For Razmund, many things were as clear as his lack of judgment and facts. On one hand, he was glad and hopeful that Ozeki knew what he was doing. On the other, he was fearful that this group meant something terrible or something that was far above their initial investments, or ideas.
Nevertheless, it was too late to be sorry.
In a typical way, these Paladins would not have descended if they had inadequate reasons. How Vermillion did her bidding—or assembled them—shocked, confused, and put him through a lot of weird thoughts.
Why now, of all times?
Razmund sighed, looking at that crazy devil that fought like an overzealous maniac with blood spreading and spear cleaving around like a rabid dog. He kept moving like a storm and pushed Ceila far.
He didn't forget about the remaining foes either. David stood with Ultium aside this show, observing the desirable target they wanted to catch for many days.
At last, a transformation arrived. David wasn't sure of its value, but Ultium was unable to think straight because of Ceila. Watching Razmund definitely thundered his heart and he recalled Lisa and her tasks. Then there was that duck that Ultium was never able to judge for food. It was deeper, and this human beside him was a neat little trickster.
It was acceptable to kill him, right?