The only warning Damien got was the blinding spike in his spirit, and with all the strength he could muster, he dived to the side.

A shiver ran down his spine as he felt a sharp pain down his legs. He looked down, coming face to face with a huge chunk of his lap missing, his bloodied bone peaking out.

Gritting his teeth, he moved out of the way just as another attack came in, the other Spirit lords joining in. The air howled as the attack landed, the shockwaves pushing him back. Damien didn't relent, he came in again, this time with a thick breath of destruction from both his arms just as Vanis manifested two titanic arms, overlaying them over his own. With sudden swiftness belaying its size, he punched.

Damien detected it before he felt it. The air thickened, reality warping as a will imposed itself upon the world. His attack, Vanis's, and other techniques from the other Spirit lords which landed alongside theirs, suddenly lost their powers, as if snatched up by a giant invisible hand. And like a tiny flame being snuffed out, their techniques vanished.

Calmly, the Aveanii gazed down at them. "Disappointing," it drawled.

Indignation burned within Damien at that. Anger. Sure, he was a Spirit lord. He knew he didn't have any chance of contending with a Spirit King, especially one in their astral form, but the fact that it had been rubbed on his face, and in such an insulting manner, woke something up in Damien.

Damien unfurled his will, stretching it wide till he felt like he was shrouded by a huge cloud—a metaphysical one—and then he pitted it against that of the Spirit King's.

He realized his mistake immediately, and would have surely had his mind shattered—or worse, dead —had Vanis and the other Spirit Kings not come to his rescue, saving him from the vast sea that was the will of the Spirit King. And even with that, they felt like a tiny dam pushing against the tide of a mightier body of water.

But they still held.

And with that, they pushed back, contesting the ambient essence in the area.

"Unexpected..." The Spirit King said, its voice now steady and lacking the usual mockery. "I think I need to remove the children's glove."

And for the second time in a few days, Damien began the fight for his life.

A stream of jagged crimson lightning fell on the Aveanii, accompanied by a swarm of star falls. Other techniques joined in too. Blue lightnings. High pressurized water. Balls of flames. Needles of darkness; they were all backed by the power of multiple astral images, increasing their powers manifold.

Damien felt the power, and the Spirit King surely did. And this time, it had to contend against their will for it to be able to deploy its intent.

The Aveanii crossed its muscled arms, taking the myriad techniques. The explosion pushed Damien back, and he had to grit his teeth to fight against the burning pain on his leg. When the smoke finally cleared, the Spirit King slowly emerged, unharmed generally but for a small singe on its forearms.

And then the fight began In earnest.

Damien dived just as the Aveanii pointed a finger in his direction, dodging quick enough to avoid an invisible attack that wiped out two elementals who had been brawling a mile or so behind him.

He brought up his spear, slashing down just as he went past the Spirit King. Shockingly—not for him but for the Spirit King—the spear tore into the flesh of the Aveanii, shocking everyone around. Gray had always said countless times that he was more powerful than any Spirit King. Damien hadn't taken him at his words. Now, with the evidence staring straight right at him, he finally allowed a bit of hope into his mind.

The Aveanii's eyes narrowed as it seemed to truly take in Damien for the first time, its beady brown eyes scrutinizing him from head to toe, and then to his weapon. It said nothing, but Damien knew that look, and it didn't bode well for him.

He flew back just as a curtain of crimson lightning appeared right In front of him, briefly blocking his view from the Aveanii. It lasted for only a second, until the Aveanii crashed through it, tearing open the crimson technique with its bare hands.

More than a dozen techniques rained down on the Aveanii as it sped towards him, but the creature paid no true attention to them, dodging the truly hurtful ones and outright smashing others out of its way.

Damien stretched his body's capabilities to the limit, pushing it into dodging the swift approach of the Aveanii. An arm punched forward, barely missing him but clipping the side of his shoulder. Damien grunted in agony as another patch of his skin was ripped off, baring his bones to the world. He fought through the pain, widely slashing his spear In front of him to ward off the Aveanii. It didn't matter.

With a speed beggering that of light, it caught him by the wrist. A tightening of its palm saw Damien's wrist break, and swiftly torn off a second later.

The sheer agony of the injury blinded Damien for a second, and would have resulted in his death had Vanis not attacked at that moment, bringing down his bident on the Aveanii.

A line of runes on the bident awoke, its power blazing into Damien's senses. Luckily, the Aveanii sensed it, knowing it to be a threat, which resulted in it cutting of its grasp for Damien's neck.

"I know you're not okay, but I just have to ask," Vanis said as he came to hover right in-between Damien and the Aveanii. "Are you okay?"

Knowing what the man was trying to get at, Damien nodded. "I will be, just give me a sec."

"That's good," the other man smiled. "Because a second is all we have."

Damien would have smiled but for the agony roaring all over his body. Searching for something to vanish the pain, his mind flashed back to a few days ago when he was him but wasn't. When he'd summoned and tapped into those twin blazing pillars of energy. He remembered the feeling of one—the cool, regenerative feeling it gave him when he wielded it. Hopeful, he projected that feeling down on his body, willing for it to fix him, to which he was immediately shocked to realize nothing had happened. Instead, a new flood of pain erupted in his mind, projecting down into his body. He was in so much agony he failed to detect when someone arrived at his side. Only the sudden coolness and the shivering feeling that washed down his body was what alerted him.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Damien looked to the side, coming face to face with two snow white irises which were intensely trained on his face.

"Thanks," he said as he took in a deep, relieved breath.

His savior grunted, pulling away their bare hands from his skin, an armored glove made of ice instantly forming a moment later.

"This is only a stop gap which could easily become harmful should true healing be delayed," the man said just as two short staffs appeared on both his hands.

Damien nodded. "Thanks again...?"

"Morec," the young man said. "Morec of house Queilon."

"Thank you, Morec," Damien repeated. "I owe you one."

Snow White eyes peered into that of grey, studying it for a moment before turning away with nothing but a grunt.

Damien didn't know whether to feel awkward or happy, but he sure felt relieved. He straightened his posture, shifting his spear with his mind to his left hand. He had zero training experience with his left hand, but like Elias used to say: There is no better teacher than pressure. Damien smiled at the memory. He missed Elias so much.

Swiftly bringing his mind back to the present, he focused on the single Aveanii standing against over fifteen Spirit lords, finding its eyes trained on no one else but him.

Damien felt the power locked in those eyes. Sensing the ocean waiting to be unleashed should one of them falter. And for the first time in his life, he trembled. Not at its aura, but at the real possibility of his death.

He'd fought a lot of battles, with many of them coming close to his death. But the difference between those battles and this one was the surety. Damien knew that in a battle against another Spirit lord, a single mistake could easily lead to other hasty decisions which could end in his death. Those were events which could be circumvented with enough strength or good ol' escape. This one was different. What did talent mean when he couldn't dodge the attack of a faster and more powerful opponent. He had yet to take a direct hit from the Aveanii, only receiving a few grazes on his body; and those ones were powerful enough to wipe out his flesh down to the bones. What would happen if it landed a hit directly on his head? Damien shuddered at the thought.

Usually, he wouldn't have been afraid seeing as Gray was on the battlefield. The other being had shown that he could move Damien away from danger faster than even his senses could detect. But now, Damien knew how different a Spirit lord's battlefield was compared to that of Spirit Kings. The sheer scale of the twin wills he could feel looming over everything was enough to disillusion him of any escape should his life be put to mortal danger.

"Many of you will die before your Divine King rescues you," the Aveanii said just as twin curtains of feathers flared up behind it, a blade of vibrating energy appearing on its right hand. It raised the sound blade, pointing it at both Damien and Vanis. "You two will be among."

And with a flap of its wings, it vanished. Damien's heart skipped a beat the moment the Spirit vanished. And he was ashamed to say that he felt relieved that when the being reappeared, it didn't appear next to him, instead it appeared to the side of a Spirit lord to the left, chopping the woman's head in one swift stroke.

Damien quickly got his fear in control, turning to follow the Spirit King, but by then, it had already disappeared.

To the right, a body was cut in twain, parted from shoulder to hip.

"He's taking us out one by one," Damien said just as another Spirit lord fell behind them, his head chopped clean off.

"I can see that," the Verrille lord gritted his teeth.

To say Damien was afraid would be an understatement. He was terrified, shitless. They'd left the ground with twenty or so Spirit lords, a good number of which had been wiped out just from the passing technique of the Aveanii Divine King. A few others had succumbed to their fear at the approach of the Spirit Kings, blacking out and falling to the ground. And now the remaining were being torn apart one by one, without them even seeing their attacker.

Slowly, he felt their barricade on the Aveanii's mental strength crumble as the Spirit lords were slowly removed. Already, he knew that all it'd require was a strong push for the remaining to shatter, but for some reason, it didn't.

Closeby, a man panicked and fled, turning into a streak of light. He didn't make it five meters before the light sputtered out, a body cut in half by the waist tumbling into existence an instant later.

"We should teleport out of here," a voice mentally echoed in Damien's mind.

Shocked, he looked around, trying to find the person. It wasn't until Vanis glanced at his left towards a lady in a purple battle robe that the identity of the speaker was revealed.

"We could," the Verille lord replied. "But I'd seriously advise against it."

Damien didn't need to ask why, he already knew. Space travel was a pretty delicate thing, and an extremely volatile environment as this was a place where it was very unwise to try a teleport.

"Then what do we do?" The lady asked again, this time sounding panicked. Damien couldn't blame her, he was feeling the same. They were basically locked into themselves, unable to act as the Aveanii took them apart one by one.

"When you meet the Abyssal Dragon," a voice whispered into their midst, sounding oddly joyful and mocking. "You tell it—"

The voice cut off sharply, replaced with a choking sound.

Damien looked to the side, just in time to watch as the Aveanii materialized in full view, and he sucked in a breath at how close he'd been to death. He watched as the Aveanii, whose vibrating sword was inches away from the forehead of Vanis, slowly dropped down, dematerializing without a sound.

The Spirit King's eyes were wide opened, surprise plain in them. It tried to say something, its voice coming out patchy and warbled. And slowly, like a fire losing its accelerant, the light in its eyes died down, and an instant later, its body turned into some form of essence which soon dispersed into the atmosphere.

Damien watched as, jutting out from where the heart of the Spirit King should have been, a crimson clawed hand pulled back. He looked down at the hand, tracing it back towards its owner: a crimson female with straight long hair crackling with tiny tendrils of lightning. Her eyes, which were a deeper shade of crimson, looked them over, briefly—the other Spirit lords—before turning towards Vanis.

"Go," she said, her voice echoing out without any form of inflection. Dead. "Your participation in this battle is over."

And with a gesture, a swirling crimson portal opened right over them. Before any exclamation could be uttered out, Damien was swallowed up.

He stumbled out a moment later on an obsidian platform. Amidst the cries of relief and sorrow, Damien heard Vanis murmur behind him. "We're safe."

He turned to face the other man, about to demand where his brother was when something impacted him.

Feeling the presence of his brother, Damien took a deep breath, squeezing the arms wrapped around him.

"I'm glad you're alive," he whispered.

"Me too," Keilan said. "You don't know how terrified I was that you were going to die. If it wasn't for Gray, I don't know what I'd have done."

Grateful to the little gray man, Damien nodded, pulling away from his brother.

"Thank you, Gray."

[Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.] Gray replied mentally. [Now go away, I have a story to catch up on.]

Despite that, Damien still felt Gray's attention on him. Shaking his head, he looked over at Vanis, finding the other man's eyes already on them.

"We're safe," the young man repeated. "I'm sure of that."

Feeling oddly assured, Damien looked around at his surroundings, finding the other survivors either in a mode of jubilation or mourning. Both instantly reminded him of how close he'd come to losing Keilan, and likewise, which also made him thankful, again.

"Where are we?" Damien said as he finally took in their platform, or something like that. Because, truthfully, he'd never seen something like this.

Vanis opened his mouth to reply when they felt it. The ambient essence reacting. This wasn't the reaction of a common technique, this was something more, something deeper. Something Damien had only felt once in his life.

He met the eyes of Keilan just as reality heaved, a jagged tearing sound piercing deep into both his physical and Spiritual senses.

Everything blacked out for a second, the world plunging into utter darkness. And then he heard it... The words that came before all was turned to ruin.

ART OF DESTRUCTION: HEAVEN FALL