They were already halfway through their drinks when the lady returned, informing them that the boss was ready now.

Damien muttered a thanks, and when he judged her at a more comfortable distance, he hurriedly rushed to finish of his drink. He'd be damned if he left such exquisite work of ingenuity unfinished.

[Wow, the great Damien, brought so low simply by the brilliance of a beautiful woman. I should let Solaris know of this.] Gray teased.

"Shut up," Damien murmured.

"Gray," Keilan said. "When she was addressing us, why did she skip you? At first, I thought she might not have detected you due to your stature, but later on, it seemed like she didn't even notice your presence, like at all."

Gray chuckled. [Finally decided to ask, did you? Alright, the reason why she can't see me, why anyone can't see me, including your prestigious circle of Spirit lords, is because I don't want them to.]

"How? Is that a technique or something?" Damien asked as he stood and then began making his way toward the back of the room, Keilan and Gray following behind.

[This is just one of the workings of intent, and also a bit of superior soul strength. But since I do not have a soul, I have to make up for it with a bludgeoning level of intent.]

"What do you mean you don't have a soul?" Damien frowned.

[What I said. I'm soulless.] Gray said. [I am a construct. An extremely advanced one, but still, a construct nonetheless. Constructs do not have souls.]

Now it was Keilan's turn to frown. "Why do you sound so indifferent about it? You seem not to care about it."

[Because I do not care, Keilan,] Gray said stiffly. [To me, having a soul is as foreign as fire to water. I acknowledge its benefits, but my lack does not hinder my functionality.]

Damien, seeing where this was all heading, decided to get back on topic. Though he earned himself a glare from Keilan, he didn't worry. After all, he'd already set a reminder in his mind for this conversation at a more convenient time.

"About this technique, you said an intent and a soul are required for it, yet you admit to performing it without a soul. How?"

Gray, gladly accepting the escape, explained. [Intent isn't an infinite force. It is born out of the workings of willpower, or more precisely, one of the nascent workings of willpower. To use intent with more finesse and less mental drain, a soul is required, preferably a stronger soul.]

"Huh," Damien rubbed his chin. "So what you're saying is that the difference between what you're doing and someone with a soul is like a sword and a hammer?"

Gray chuckled. [More like a sharp dagger and a stone.]

"Holy shimoly!" Keilan exclaimed in awe. "This must be some kind of extremely powerful technique, then."

[You have no idea. Although a lot more people know about it, only a few are truly capable of utilizing it. It takes a certain mind and soul to be capable of manipulating the senses of another.]

"I need to learn this."

Not only for its practical use, Damien also recognized the threat of falling victim to a technique such as this. Not only could he be killed without even knowing how, but he could also have a stalker following him — a potential butcher's blade hanging over his head — and he'd never know. He didn't want to live in fear of such a potential threat.

"Me too, I also want to learn," Keilan eagerly added.

[Sure,] Gray said in a deadpanned tone. [As soon as you take some time away from the war.]

The atmosphere immediately turned awkward. Luckily, they were already at their destination.

When he knocked, the door instantly opened by itself. Damien turned to Keilan with a raised eyebrow. Shrugging, he stepped inside.

The room they entered was filled with all sorts of tomes and books, some properly arranged on the shelves which lined all three corners of the room. The remaining were left scattered in multiple heaps on the rug-covered floor. Damien knew the knowledge contained in some of those books would leave every researcher in ecstasy for years to come.

Their host was sitting on a high-back chair, twiddling his fingers and looking all stern and such as he waited for them.

He was easily over six foot, with short-cropped brown hair with the beginning of a touch of grey despite the man having never reached his second century.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Is this room going to be like this forever?" Damien looked around.

The man shrugged in answer, ignoring Damien as he turned his full attention toward the second person behind him.

"Hi, Elas," Keilan smiled.

"Come here, my boy," Elas said, standing from his seat and moving toward Keilan with arms wide open.

Damien smiled at the old man fussing over Keilan, his memory inadvertently flashing back into the past when their mother – Mara – had done the same for both of them. Back then, they'd both loudly refused, citing all sorts of things about being grown up and above those embarrassing show of affection. Now though? Damien's mood soured. What he wouldn't give to have Mara fuss over him again.

Gray, sensing his mood, put a gentle hand on Damien's shoulder. He smiled in appreciation as a soothing feeling settled over him.

Damien's attention was immediately brought back as Elas called. "Alright, now that we've all been happily reunited, what brought this visit?"

Damien raised an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that," Elas said. "I'm happy to see you both; but unlike me, you both have sensitive jobs which usually require your attention at a moment's notice. For both of you to take the time off to come visit," He shook his head. "Things must have gotten desperate."

Damien took a sit alongside the one already occupied by Keilan, sighing. "Sure, things are desperate. You must have heard of Solaris's new weapons?"

Elas nodded, his mood visibly taking a downturn. "Yes. I knew Solaris from back during the first war; sure, he was extremely ambitious, with a very loose string holding his morality in check. But this?" The man shook his head. "This is something far beyond the scope of forgiveness."

"We know a fleshcrafter is behind the creation of those things. Do you know which one?" Keilan asked.

"Yes," Elas nodded, opening a drawer and bringing out a file. "Rizhak. Even by fleshcrafter standards, this one is considered a loon. And powerful too. Our information places him at early tier Spirit lord."

Damien's expression turned sour as he heard that. That was terrible news. "A bad combination."

"A bad combination," Elas repeated.

"Why would Solaris choose the guy, then? Like you said, he's abnormal even by fleshcrafter standards. Having a loose weapon like that is sure to prove self-destructive."

"Oh, they're already familiar." Elas gestured at the file in Keilan's hand. "He was the one who performed the paper tiger operation."

The paper tiger operation referred to the con which Solaris – the true Solaris – played on the rulers of the world. The man had employed a fleshcrafter to transform his son, Tenral, into the spitting image of his father, and then leaving him as a paper tiger to deterr any would be invader. The scam had lasted for decades until Damien, almost killing the fake one, had drawn the true Emperor out.

Unfortunately, his plan to end Solaris once and for all had immediately been squashed at the discovery that the man was already a Spirit King.

Damien couldn't help himself, he laughed. When he saw the others looking at him with raised eyebrows, he immediately tried – and failed – to put on a straight face. "I mean... Who came up... with such a name?"

"Me." Elas glared.

That immediately got him to sober up. "Sorry." He muttered.

"I assume you know where he's being kept?" Keilan said to Elas.

"Yes, in the Castle."

"Yup," Damien said. "That's a dead end. No wonder Solaris doesn't leave the place for a long period."

But Keilan didn't give up. "There must be some way to, at least, flush him out long enough for someone to sneak in there and end the fleshcrafter, right?"

"Sorry, boyo." Elas shook his head. "That ain't gonna work. Shadow Hall also has a cadre guarding the man."

"Wow, talk about protection."

"Is there no other way? What of the abominations? We can't keep fighting them as they come at us unendingly."

Elas nodded. "I agree with you on that, but there's nothing I can do about it. You, on the other hand, are well known for mass destruction."

"Hmmm," Damien nodded in agreement. "A leading expert, if I might add."

"Sure," Keilan said. "Why don't I run now to a battlefield, a battlefield also filled with our soldiers, and then unleash a mega-storm? That'll fix everything."

"I sense sarcasm," Damien said.

"Ya think?!"

Elas, though, was looking at them with confusion. "A Megastorm?"

"Oh, it's just this new technique Keilan created, or more correctly, an upgraded form of his normal storm conjuration. It's basically a far bigger tornado than the one he usually creates," Damien said nonchalantly.

Elas then turned to Keilan. "I'm one of the few Monarchs always kept updated on the going on around the world. Why haven't I heard of this?"

"That's because I haven't used it outside of a proto-realm," Keilan sighed. "It takes time to create and is like ten times the number of my above-average tornadoes."

Elas looked contemplative. "My organization has studied the powers of your tornadoes, moving at 800 hundred m-"

"No, that's the average ones," Keilan interrupted. "I managed to squeeze my tier three ones to move at a thousand miles per hour, the highest ever recorded," Keilan smugness was so potent Damien could practically feel it rub against his skin.

"Wow," Elas sat back. "That's powerful. And you say your MegaStorm could beat that?"

"By a wide margin," Keilan nodded. "A single one of my MegaStorm has far more power than those ones, ten times that."

"And how many can you create?"

Keilan rubbed his chin, clearly thinking. "Without my astral image, only a single one, and it'll completely drain me. I could triple that with my astral image, though."

Elas leaned back with a sigh, clearly overwhelmed. "I can see why you haven't unleashed something like that outside of the proto-realms. That's a technique that could easily wipe out multiple legions."

"Exactly," Keilan agreed. "Unleashing something like that on our side of the continent would be doing ourselves more harm than the Solarians."

Damien, though, had already lost interest on that topic, a question sneaking into his mind. "Hey, Elas. Has your organization figured out how those things are resurrecting the dead? The abominations, I mean."

The man, still clearly overwhelmed, answered. "All the defiled are controlled by hundreds of some kind of micro organisms – we haven't figured out what they are, yet. Our experts in the field have also detected a spiritual link connecting them to something, probably their progenitor."

"A Hive kind of creature?" Damien asked.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Now, it was Damien's turn to lean back, but the difference this time was that he wasn't overwhelmed, just resolved. He looked Keilan in the eye, seeing the agreement written there, and then nodded, his resolve firmed.

Turning to Elas, Damien asked the question he'd come here for. "What do you know of the ancient Empire that ruled this world?"