With gleeful malice, Elora watched as the anomaly was encircled and sealed in her trap, held like the animal that he was.

  She had been unsure whether her plan would succeed. Although they had planned for his current temporary state of weakness, they hadn't expected his overwhelming might. She hated to admit it, but she couldn't deny his strength. If at a weakened state, he was this powerful, the thought of him at his full strength made her shudder.

  They had thought they could take him on, even bring him down if they brought their full combined powers to bear. In the end, he had still overpowered them, beaten them down like a bunch of children.

  Initially, she had fumed at the way he looked down at them, like children who didn't warrant even a smidgen of his strength; he didn't take the fight seriously, only doing the bare minimum, with not a single technique used that she could detect.

  She had thought his overbloated sense of self importance a cause for self doom. No one in their mind would have taken a battle against two Spirit lords in such a casual manner, not even Samon whom she was reluctant to admit was stronger than her. It was a recipe for a quick death.

  Now that she had gotten a taste of his true power, she was relieved he hadn't taken them seriously from the onstart. Losing a portion of her Astral image was a terrific experience and she didn't want to ever feel that excruciating pain again.

  She could feel the damage to ber Crown Meridian, a wound that was growing even as she battled. As it was, if a solution wasn't found in the next hour, she shuddered to think what would happen to her. The destruction of an Astral image was un-heard of, as far as she could tell. But there was always a first for everything.

  She growled; Damien Elason.

  The first time news had reached the Empire about the impossible genius, it had caused no small amount of smiles on the faces of the stone-faced Pillars. When it became clear that they were the first ones who knew about him, they had almost jubilated. Seldom was it for anyone to grasp Spirit lord. It was a lucky draw; only one out of a million managed to reach it, and only a minuscule number, one out of ten million, were guaranteed to reach it even from the early realms.

  His ascendance had been destined, and so they had wanted him for themselves, even though he had shattered the record held by the Emperor by becoming a Spirit lord in his early twenties, an impossible feat. That did not matter. After all, he would be nothing but a weapon to be wielded by the Emperor.

  Information about him had been scarce, as he was always on the move, never remaining in one place long enough for anyone to find him. This would have made them wait patiently had it not been for the absurd fact that he would disappear for weeks or months, only to resurface far stronger than before, sometimes in an entirely new realm.

  He was mostly seen with another companion of the same age, whom they now believed to be Keilan, The Stormshredder, another anomaly that had stepped into the Spirit lord realm also at an early age. But unlike his companion, his drastic power growth had slowed down ever since stepping into Spirit lord, as it also should have been for Damien.

  After multiple failed attempts at a diplomatic approach, the Empire had finally given up on the and had attempted to forcibly relocate him at an opportune moment. This had resulted in the death of two Monarch Realm Wielders amongst the three that had been sent, while the third returned gravely injured to report that the young man was already well into the Monarch realm and also too powerful, overpowering and overcoming three Monarchs of older age and greater experience.

  She had been in attendance when the matter had been brought up, and a much greater group had been immediately dispatched to his last known location. By then, he had already vanished.

  He resurfaced again a short while later, this time as a Spirit lord, causing an uproar amongst the Spirit lord community. Soon after, in a battle that had shocked the world, he had clashed with one of the Empire's Pillars and had slain the man, earning the full wrath and mobilization of all the Pillars of the Empire to capture and, if they couldn't turn him, to kill him.

  Unsurprisingly, he'd already vanished by the time they arrived.

  When he had next resurfaced again, in a feat of immense bravery, or stupidity, he had ambushed the Emperor himself, an attack that had resulted in a titanic clash that had devastated the region. Their battle had ended in a draw and his subsequent retreat when Empire Pillars began arriving at the scene.

  They hadn't seen him again until he had been discovered in this small city, by a mere lord Realm spy.

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  She had thought that she and Igor could take him, especially as he had weakened himself by expending what she knew was a massive amount of energy to move into the metaphysical, something that couldn't be done by a Mid-tier Spirit lord, let alone an Early-tier one. Even mad geniuses at the peak of Spirit lord required intense planning, and they still struggled extremely hard to accomplish such a feat.

  She had thought that he would be easier to kill now that he was massively weakened. Oh, how wrong she was. Now she was paying for it with a damaged and crumbling Astral image.

  Fortunately, she had managed to trap him in her Pillar of death, a pillar made out of darkness that smothered all other elements, including those of Life. It released dense quantities of poison mists, which made trapping anyone within it a death sentence.

  She stood on a sand hill, her mind split between preventing her prisoner from escaping and holding herself from succumbing to the excruciating pain in her spirit. Her burden eased a bit when Igor joined his will to her efforts.

  "How long will it take for your poison to take effect?" The man grunted, spitting blood that disappeared into the shadowy sea beneath them.

  "Probably longer than average, considering that all our predictions about his capabilities were painfully proven wrong," She replied, gritting her teeth from the pain assaulting her.

  "Are you sure he's going to be affected by the poison?" He asked, and detected a tone of worry, not that she could blame him. Even she was afraid of the thought of him escaping that thing alive

  "He has to be."

  "We need to call in for reinforcement," Igor grunted, reluctance in his voice.

  She agreed, also reluctantly. Even though it wounded her pride to admit that they needed help battling an upstart, it was a lesser shame than dying. She was about to send out the request when a pulse of grey energy rippled outwards, and her pillar of darkness exploded.

  The shockwaves tore through the last standing city walls, collapsing the walls and the buildings within, drenching them in a downpour of dark mist that doused the remaining half of the city in poison, melting everything into sludge.

  Elora couldn't hold it anymore, she screamed as her Crown Meridian shattered and she was swallowed in agonizing pain.

  Her last sight before her vision turned black was of the anomaly floating high in the sky, staring down at her.

  There was nary a scratch on his body.

  ***

  Damien's POV

  Floating hundreds of feet off the ground and imprisoned in a pillar of darkness that would have made any ordinary person lose their wits, all Damien could feel was boredom.

  He knew what this pillar did, as it was well known that whoever got trapped within the Darkfang's technique only survived by her desire. Elora had no mercy, so that was that.

  The thick dark corrosive mist spewing out from the cage of darkness surrounding him would have been a cause for concern had his cloak not shrouded him.

  Damien sighed, concluding that he was done playing around. This farce of a battle had gone on too long. He'd only dragged it out this much because of the fleeing refugees, and seeing as they'd all cleared from the city, it was only proper for him to fumigate.

  Something flickered behind him, a vague titanic outline appearing right behind him only for a moment. Faster that anyone below Spirit lord could have noticed. In that smidgen of a second, his power surged, erupting outward in a shock blast that shattered the technique sealing him in.

  He saw the walls collapse, along with what remained of a great portion of the city it once protected. Damien looked down, his eyes catching Elora right before she collapsed, no doubt overwhelmed by all she'd suffered.

  He caught Igor as the man appeared by his side, arm poised to deliver a strike.

  "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you. Fool me three times? Well, that's a big dark stain on my armor," Damien said as he turned to face the struggling man, who pulled in a futile attempt to free his arm from Damien's grip, a grip that was iron tight. "And as you can see, I've had enough stain for today, don't you think?"

  He spear would not do, Damien decided. Igor was too close. He conjured a dagger, well, the vague shape of one. Seeing as it had a pointy end, he didn't stress much about it. The dagger rippled at the edges, similar to a flame. His essence, which he'd used to construct it, crackled and trembled as it sought release. Destruction never liked to be caged, after all.

  The sight of the weapon must have pushed his prisoner to the brink. Whether out of self-preservation or fear, a dagger made of shadow appeared in his second hand, and before Damien could react, he slashed, cutting off the arm trapped in Damien's grip at the elbow.

  The man grunted in visible agony, teleporting out of Damien's reach and closer to his image. He glared at Damien with pure hatred, and a fear that he tried and failed to hide.

  "You could have killed me with that dagger, you know?" Damien sighed as he shook his head. "Seems the Empire is picking from the chaff now. Oh well..."

  As expected, succumbing to fear, the Pillar made a stupid move.

  From the sea of shadows below them rose dozens of tendrils, each twisting with the telegraphed attempt to hold him down. The man came in next with speed that shattered the air, his hammer forgotten as he stabbed his conjured blade towards Damien's head, an extremely telegraphed move.

  Damien shook his head as he teleported, shifting away from his attacker's path and appearing next to his image.

  He waited for Igor to find him, and then he stabbed his spear—already packed full with energy—straight into the chest of the construct.

  The shock must have overwhelmed the man, because he froze, stilling just long enough for Damien to appear by his side. And casually, with a remorseful sigh, he stabbed his conjured dagger right into the heart of his opponent.

  "You—both of you," he glanced at the body of Elora, "make the actual Spirit lords look like a joke. A bad example."

  Energy built up, and Igor exploded from the inside out, his limbs and torso finding different locations to land.