Howrah watched from the altar of the cathedral, his low cackles echoing inside the room as he watched Damien struggle to keep in his painful cries.
The feeling of satisfaction washed over him once he heard it. Pure ecstasy, he would call it.
After a few more moments, he called back his undead and sent them somewhere else, along with their spoils being Damien's entire rusty armour.
Howrah hovered down the steps, his brown cloak and robe underneath fluttering due to the wind.
PAT PAT PAT
He walked over to Damien and saw him lying down in a fetal position. The feeling of superiority only increased inside of Howrah.
He then began to mock Damien for his pathetic appearance.
"They did quite a number on you, Khoran, kehehe~!"
He then began to walk around him, circling and analysing the sort of damage he sustained—what he found surprised him a little.
He then praised Damien, "Your bones are exceptionally strong to survive with barely any scratches. As expected, though."
Howrah stroked his chin as he gazed upon the broken skeleton, which remained unresponsive. What he didn't know was the subtle red light in its eyes—hidden away from Howrah's prying eyes.
"Where'd that prideful self of yours go? I know it's somewhere inside of you. Crawling around like a parasi—"
BAM!
Howrah stared curiously at the fist pressed against a green barrier he had reflexively created. He then glanced towards Damien's face to see him glaring at him with a ferocious light.
Before Howrah could finish his sentence, Damien had shot up from his fetal position and onto his feet in a matter of seconds—slamming his fist into the wall that had magically appeared.
He clenched his jaw, planting his feet against the ground, and tried to push his arm further into the barrier—trying to break through.
TAP! TAP!
He then glanced down, the feeling of something tapping against his chest.
"If it was anyone else of a lower circle, you would've perhaps gotten them."
Howrah placed the tip of his staff against Damien's ribcage. The light of the gem glowed ominously before shining a destructive light that blasted him away.
BOOM!
With a powerful blast, he was launched back at break-neck speed—crashing and shattering the stained glass of the cathedral. The world seemed to slow down around him as he watched himself fly amongst the glass shard.
Their colourful gleam shining under the light of the moon stared down at him. Its light cascaded over him like a waterfall and reflected off the shards—creating beams to form around him—trapping him in a prison of light.
As the world soon lost its momentary stillness, so did his daze as he felt his body slam into the steps of the stairs leading to the entrance. He then went on to tumble down them like a tumbleweed going down a rough sand slope.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
The sound of his bones scraping against the bricks caused him chills. The feeling of his skull bashing against the edges of the steps rattled his mind.
After bouncing off the last step, his body fell into the dark waters of the street. Although he didn't have his armour on, he quickly plummeted to the floor of the deep waters.
The cold water embraced him in its chilling embrace. Despite his lack of nerves to feel its freezing temperatures, he muttered, 'Cold.' But his voice was prevented from being heard.
His back lay against the floor, staring towards the surface. The light from the moon tried to break through the darkness within and reach him—like it was telling him to reach for its metaphorical hand.
Damien raised his hand towards it and saw it wouldn't reach, 'Figures... I'm still too small.' The humongous gap between him and the faded light caused him to sigh.
With a bit of effort, he crawled against the floor and pushed himself towards the steps belonging to the stairs. His hand clutched its edges and pulled himself out of the water.
The water flowed out and exited his body like small rivers. He then situated himself on the steps and fell into a deep thought. What had happened? What did Howrah do that caused him to flow out of the cathedral?
These were the questions he needed answers to. Questions he was sure would lead to his rise in power.
Damien stared at his hand, specifically the one that made contact with the barrier. The wall that intercepted him was most definitely solid but in a whole different way.
He felt as if something inside him reacted to it, especially from that attack from Howrah. Whatever it was...
...It resonated with him.
"It didn't go as planned..."
He thought back to the plan he had meticulously made before suffering under the undead's brutal acts towards him. He had correctly guessed Howrah would approach him when we looked as if he was broken—after that, he would strike.
"Tch! It was all for nothing..." He clicked his tongue while scratching his head in frustration.
The calm and silent atmosphere around him was soon broken by the sound of footsteps steadily making their way down to him. Damien didn't bother looking back—already guessing who it was.
Howrah took a seat beside Damien, straightening out his robe and clutching his staff in a comfortable hold. He then asked Damien, "So! Are you ready to call me your master yet?"
"..."
Damien didn't respond. Instead, he just stared at him. He stared into the old man's dark brown eyes—which showed visible signs of madness behind his gaze.
The crimson orbs in Damien's eyes had long since disappeared. "What do I get from doing this?" What Damien had on his mind was—
"Power, of course!" The old man yelled, his screechy voice causing Damien some discomfort.
Damien then said curiously:
"Like? How can I gain power from you?"
"I can remind you of soul energy."
"Soul energy?" Damien raised an eye at that. This energy contained the word soul. This must be the thing that caused something within him to resonate with it. "Is that what you used against me?"
In response, the old man gave a small nod, "Yes, yes! What I used was the lowest-tier spell that the Killean Republic had to offer, a [Soul Blast]!"
He then paused a bit before going into more detail:
"Although it's the weakest spell, my soul multiplies its effectiveness to quite a considerable degree. And you were able to survive it without even a scratch! Truly a durable body you have."
Howrah inspected Damien's body. Become ever-increasingly impressed with its ability to endure possibly any attack thrown at it.
Howrah caressed Damien's shoulder with a desirable look, which caused Damien to scoot away, repulsed by the old man's misunderstandable acts. "Okay... So I'll learn about this soul energy from you?"
Howrah nodded again, "Yes! So, What will it be?" He urged the skeleton to quickly answer. The feeling of impatience became evident in the old man's fidgeting in his seat.
Damien sighed. He turned his head towards the ground, bowing towards his surroundings with a lost look on his face. He then finally gave his answer.
"I..."