The chakrams in his hands spun, the edges making contact with one of the approaching ghost-like figures, one that had turned into a hammer. Everything had a semblance of haziness, their shapes conforming to the effect imbued in them, forming their essence.
The mist forming the chakram was polluted by the substance in the hammer, with a similar situation occurring in the other party. The damage, in the sense, wasn't anything physical, but a collision of mental states, wills, memories, etc.
The damage dealt was similar to a rock splashing into a bucket of water, spilling some droplets beyond its confines. The process here was the same, the moment the chakram and the hammer met, the fragments in their makeup spilled out, the momentum carrying them radially away.
