For beings as old as Spirit Kings, there were few things that could draw their attention, and fewer that could truly keep them. What Keilan did was the latter.
In a massive ice fortress in the center of the Cult of The Everlasting Winter, as they were formally called, a massive presence awoke. It unfurled like a blooming flower, engulfing the entirety of the Cult's territories in an instant, a territory that spanned far over a hundred million kilometers. From within the fortress, in a room that was no more than a cubicle, burning orbs of frozen blue blinked open, its intensity powerful enough to pierce through the fortress, through the entirety of the moon that was its territory, and landed on a planet in a group of three.
"Hmm..."
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On another moon, in the territory of the Cult of The Unquenching Inferno, the same thing occurred. A massive will engulfed the territories in an instant, its presence banishing the concept of cold in the area. And with a confused frown barely seen, they looked down on a planet in a group of three.
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In a location outside of reality, outside, but not quite in the realm of the unreal; somewhere in between. A threshold. A being turned its attention down on the planet between another two. This was the second time in a few days that their attention had been drawn down to the planet, a noteworthy occurrence.
They gazed down on the planet with obvious intrigue, instantly finding the reason for attention.
A frown marred their expression as they pieced out what had happened. "A Spirit lord manifesting an Ascended Art. Interesting..." And then they went back to what they were doing, their curiosity contained.
They would get their answer soon enough.
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Reality tore and Daimen stepped out, accompanied by the bodies of those... Lessers who'd thought that isolating him in the unreal was enough to hold him. Hopefully, where they were now should serve as a lesson, a permanent one.
His face twitched as he felt something hammering at the back of his mind. Annoyed, he opened a small crack and allowed the presence out.
[Damien, stop!] Gray shouted. [You'll draw unwanted attention down on us!]
Daimen stared at Gray. "I am Daimen."
That brought it to a stop. Like a switch, it turned suddenly wary. [Dai, Daimen?]
Daimen's even stare was answer enough.
[Please stop. You, of all people, should know the sort of attention we could draw if you continue like this.]
"I know."
[Then, why don't you stop? This is the opposite of what we should be doing. Let us th–]
Daimen cut him off, his patience already at its lowest. "Gray, what were you created for?"
Gray, surprised by the change of topic, managed to stammer out. [To, to assist you.]
Daimen stared at him, at it. The audacity. "Do you think your higher realm makes us equal?"
Gray shook its head, stammering. [No. No, my lord.]
"Good. You were made to serve me, and you will Serve." And then he mentally flung the construct back into his mind, locking it in the cage where it belonged.
Daimen scanned his surroundings, his eyes taking in the dismantled bodies around him and then looking over at his own bloodied form. The blood and viscera weren't his. The mist that had saturated the forest was now gone, but even so, he wasn't concerned. Nothing on this planet was of any threat to him.
Finding nothing interesting, he willed himself away.
He appeared in the sky over the city of Cirin, finding the city a disheveled mess. To say this was still a city was an exaggeration. The once mighty capital was now a crumbled mess of death and destruction. A massive horizontal trench had been carved from one side to the other, crisscrossing the vertical river and dividing the city into four.
A raging inferno had already consumed a large swath of the city, spreading even as he watched, through dry earth and water alike. Another section had been completely reduced to dust, everything. It was now just a bare patch of land filled with mountains of sand. He also took notice of a third of the city which was now underwater, consumed by both the river and sea. His vision suddenly twitched and he had to firm his will to bring himself back. Perplexing, he felt like he should have felt something for the state of the city, some sort of sympathy or rage, but he felt nothing.
Here and there, he caught wreckages of what should have been Command ships, troop ships, and strike ships, their parts shattered and flung in different parts of the city. One command ship looked somewhat whole, probably because it had only crashed into the city wall, suffering minor damages compared to the rest. Though it looked like it wouldn't be able to fly any time soon.
Bodies lay dead everywhere he looked. Thousands. Millions. Both civilians and military personnel alike. They were scattered in messes of burnt down corpses and missing parts. The location near the river had clearly seen the worst casualties, as it was overwhelmingly choked full of bodies.
Again, Daimen felt like he should have felt something for them, at least some form of pity, but still, he felt nothing.
Why should i?
Though now that he really thought about it, he realized that he indeed felt something. He cocked his head to the side, quickly piecing out the emotions running within. Pity. Rage. Anguish.
Strange. He flung those disturbances away.
Finally, having taken sight of the city scale mess, he looked down onto a location he had been actively ignoring until this moment, catching the eyes of multiple Spirit lords.
He looked over at the gathered Spirit lords. Menoe, the Winter High priestess. Desane, the Nature High priestess. He narrowed his eyes in confusion at her, getting the same in return. There was something strange about her... Daimen couldn't piece it out, but he sort of felt a connection between them. He shook his head; now was not the time. Brunos and Fenore were also in attendance, looking at him with what he identified as sadness and hope?
Daimen would have questioned the reason for their sadness if the shattered city wasn't in full view. However, now that he looked closely, he discovered that their sadness wasn't directed at the city, but at the bodies laid between them.
He took in the corpses of Danor, SwordLord and ArchChancellor to the Academy of Steel. The man might have been somewhat of a coward, always preferring a less violent path, especially towards those he knew could put up a serious fight, but he was also brave in his own cowardly way. He would have lived longer if he hadn't been as unfortunate as to clash weapons with Solaris... Same with the Fyre Head. Daimen looked at the body of the man. An enigma. He usually took a backseat role, leaving the everyday running of the house to his fami–
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Daimen shut down the diverging thoughts, coming back to the present. These people were inconsequential. He didn't have any thoughts to spare for them. They must have seen it in his eyes because those who were about to approach him stopped, a confused look in their eyes. He paid them no more attention.
Certain that the person he was searching for wasn't here—which he should have expected — he prepared to will himself away, when he stopped, a deep feeling of dread coming from within. His head snapped westwards, mirrored by the others, but judging by the lost look in their eyes, they couldn't comprehend what it was. This wasn't something any Spirit lord should be aware of.
'An Ascended Art.'
Worry overcame the positive emotions that should have been felt at finally location the person he was searching for. This should not have been possible. An Ascended technique was something no Spirit lord should have been capable of manifesting, but judging by how significant Keilan's affinity alignment had grown, Daimen had no choice but to acknowledge the possibility.
With a simple intent, space tore open and he appeared over another city. Daimen would have admired the power Keilan had been able to eke out of the technique If it wasn't still uncertain whether he lived. The level of destruction certainly wasn't up to the level a true Ascended technique could reach, far from it, but it was still overwhelming enough to see any Spirit lord dead.
Daimen turned his eyes down on an island of stone surrounded by a sea of sand, finding an unmoving body lying on it. The world flickered and he was suddenly hovering over the body.
He breathed out a sigh of relief when he confirmed Keilan was still alive. However, 'Alive' was the only positive thing that could be said for the situation Keilan was in.
Daimen scanned him, finding his will easily bypassing the natural rejection every soul had to outside intrusions. Keilan was barely holding on as it was. Though his soul might have been whole and uninjured, the same couldn't be said for his Spirit.
Daimen dragged Gray from his cage. "What happened here?"
This time, the servant was quick to answer. [He was assaulted by members of the assassin organization called Shadow Hall. They attempted to entirely subvert his will, using him as a puppet to bring you down.] It stopped.
"And?" Daimen didn't take his eyes off Keilan.
Gray sighed. [By trying to take away his freedom, they pushed him towards something he was certainly close to, but shouldn't have been able to touch this early.]
"Manifesting an Ascended Art."
[Yes. Keilan wields the essence of the wind, and there's one thing that's recognized about the wind: it cherishes its freedom.]
Daimen finally understood. "He was already closer to manifesting an Ascended Art before, give or take a century or two, and he'd have manifested one; what they did was shorten that timeline by trying to shackle him, thereby pushing him into something his mind wasn't able to fully withstand."
[Yes. I'm still shocked how he's still alive.]
Keilan's Spirit layer was so cracked and pitted that the only thing holding his Spirit together was the equivalent of strings and patches.
"How is he still alive?"
Gray's eyes widened, an expression of sadness and approval on his face.
"Answer me."
[He should be dead.] Gray turned to face him. [The only way death could have been circumvented was through the soul enhancer he took in.]
Daimen nodded, understanding. A soul enhancer, while primarily made to hasten soul growth, could also have a cascade effect on the other layers of self. After all, the Soul was the true existence of a being.
Keilan, judging by how his soul still looked healthy, must have gotten significant growth, which could have then bled a small part of its stability into the Spirit. This was the only reason Daimen could think of.
"How can he be fixed?"
[His spirit has taken so much damage it's a miracle he's still alive, the only remedy I can think of that is within reach is an immersion into a life water, but that would mean approaching a Nature Spirit King.]
"Did you hear that?" Daimen raised his head towards the people he'd been ignoring up to this moment.
"He'll have the best care we can offer," High priestess Desane stepped forward, echoed by the Winter high priestess. They both looked at Gray strangely. Afterall, until this moment, none of them had ever seen something like it.
Daimen would have preferred to see to the healing himself. He felt like he could... The ability somewhat within his grasp, but somehow, the how continued to elude him, always a little bit beyond his reach anytime he grasped for it. He trusted no one with Keilan in this fragile state. However, unless he wanted to see Keilan dead—which was an extreme possibility given his present state—there was nothing more he could do other than to trust the integrity of the High priestess.
Daimen nodded in agreement, prompting the Nature High priestess to come closer, though he had to stop her just before she could lay hands on Keilan. "I hope I don't have to remind you what would happen if he dies?" The look in his eyes said it all.
He felt her subtly shiver, briefly frightened by something unknown, but in an instant, she comported herself, straightening full back.
"Lest I remind you, Mr. Elason, I am a High priestess. I do not deal kindly to threats, and unless you want to treat him yourself, you will step aside and let me do my job." She stared at him evenly.
They both stared into each other's eyes for a moment before Daimen stepped back, satisfied. The woman didn't pay him any mind, bending down to touch Keilan. Immediately, root-like tendrils extended from beneath her dress, snaking out to wrap around Keilan, and when they were finally done, completely wrapping him all over, large leaves began growing out of them, sprouting spontaneously and in great numbers until they'd completely covered Keilan, encasing him in a cocoon made of leaves.
Done, the High priestess stood back up, a contented smile on her face. "As you can see, he's already being infused with life energy." She gestured at the cocoon which was now brimming in his senses with life essence. "Though the real healing will begin when he eventually goes into a life water."
He nodded in satisfaction. "I never knew you had a life water."
Desane snorted, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind her ear. "We're the Nature Cult, of course we have a life water. We might follow the nature aspect of life, but we still have our descent from life itself."
Daimen simply stared at her, which elicited a cough of embarrassment from her, a contrast to the proud personality she'd taken not a few minutes past.
"Uhh, we, um, got it from the Spirit Kings."
Daimen nodded, turning his head towards another location. "And what do you want?"
The two high priestesses looked at him in confusion, only until the air dispersed, like an opening curtain, to reveal the form of a woman.
Her hair was white, not like Menoe's, more like the color of morning fog, incorporeal yet visible all the same. She was wearing a black robe embellished with green colored stripes. And her caramel features looked at Daimen with disguised shock.
"Osilera," Menoe turned towards the woman with both surprise and suspicion. "What are you doing here?"
Like the other high priestesses, this woman also took on the same nigh ageless features. One could tell that she was old from the look of her milky white pupil, but her physical features told another story.
Taking in her passive aura and the way she'd disguised herself, coupled with how the others immediately reacted to her presence, Daimen quickly summarized her identity : The Wind High priestess, or more formally, Cult of the Unceasing Wind.
The woman, Osilera, quickly straightened her dress even though it was unruffled. Her head rose up in a haughty pose, probably as a defense mechanism after being caught spying.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm here for the Wind Child."
"No."
Briefly startled at the clear refusal, she tried again. "He's a Child Of The Wind, he deserves to be with his own kind."
Daimen stared into her milky white eyes, something that would have unnerved anyone else. "No."
Menoe stepped forward just as the Wind High priestess took a threatening step towards him. "Stop! Please! Damien, nobody's taking your brother." She turned toward the other woman. "Osil, you can't just demand the boy like you own him. He's a person and has a family, a family who has more right over him than you."
Osilera scowled. "Family only in name; so that authority is mute. Don't you see? This is a Child of the Wind, a true Child of the Wind." She took on a pleading tone. "You might not have felt it, but we did, i and everyone else who wields the essence of the wind. We felt his presence engulf the world, this whole world, Menoe! Throughout my entire existence I have never encountered such. This could be a new discovery about the Celestial Seal of Air that we haven't uncovered yet, or more likely, haven't been allowed information on. Think of the benefits he could bring."
Daimen chuckled, the sound coming out dark and dangerous.
"So, you simply want Keilan for your own benefits?" His tone turned dismissive. "Leave."
The woman's features turned murderous at the clear disregard in Daimen's expression. "You–"
Daimen's eyes turned back just as she was about to act, a great power rising from her. All was dispersed in an instant as something seemed to impose on the essence of wind; a great weight. And it didn't just affect the essence of wind, but every other essence. All of them were subdued.
For the woman herself, she staggered backwards as if slapped, shock and confusion on her face.
"I will not repeat myself a third time." Daimen said. "Leave."
Understanding that she'd been beat, the woman had no choice but to obey, stepping through the wind and disappearing, but not before she rewarded him with a look promising revenge. Daimen dismissed it.
He turned back towards the other two High priestesses remaining, finding the same expression mirrored on their faces. Shock. Confusion, and an undertone of fear. They were finally realizing he wasn't the same person they knew. Good.
"See to the welfare of Keilan." Daimen said to the Nature Priestess, and then he slowly lifted off the ground, his departure clear to them.
Menoe hesitantly stepped forward, fear and caution on her usually calm features. "Damien, where are you going?"
Daimen turned back halfway. "Where else? Karma has been sown, I am going to collect."