The ground cracked and a wave of ash rippled out as Damien launched himself against the mind demon. And although he managed to land a hit, that first exchange alone revealed to him who was stronger between the two.

  The wind, or whatever constituted as one in this place, whipped past him as he flew to crash against the surface of a giant bone, grunting a moment later when an already cracked and wobbling part of it crashed down onto him.

  With a groan, he picked himself up, face twitching in anger and no small amount of embarrassment when he saw that his opponent hadn't even deigned to chase after him, content to simply stand and watch as he struggled up to his feet.

  "You have quite the attack power," the demon idly commented. "Too bad it isn't enough to cause more than a scratch on this mental representation of mine. You are weak, undeserving of my strength. My servants shall deal with you."

  With barely any word, the four others moved forward, walking past their leader as they approached Damien.

  On his part, his face flushed with embarrassment at the casual dismissal he'd just gotten. He'd always prided himself on being capable of contending against any Spirit lord, regardless of tier. And here was one, who'd so casually slapped him into a wall of skeletons and didn't even deign it important to personally fight him.

  And while he didn't want to openly admit it, he was secretly grateful that the demon changed its mind. Damien didn't know how a fight like that would've ended, but something told him that it wasn't going to go his way.

  With a grunt he pulled out a long piece of bone from the collapsed pile, sifting out one that looked thin enough to fit into his hands and long and sturdy enough that it made for a good weapon. It was a little over nine feet and ended in a broken sharp tip, like the edge of a broken pipe.

  He twirled it around as he moved forward against the approaching quartet.

  His first exchange had gone against him. He intended to make this one different.

  Damien launched himself against his enemies, bringing his makeshift spear up in a sharp arc, a loud clanging sound echoing out a moment later when they met the bladed ends of his opponent's limbs.

  From his first exchange, he knew that those tangly limbs weren't as fragile as they seemed, and were instead strong and compact enough that they seemed even stronger than steel. So he wasn't surprised when the blunted side of his makeshift spear glanced off the surface of the tentacle just as another one slammed into his side with the weight of a speeding iron cart.

  Damien gritted his teeth as he slid backwards, his boot kicking up ash and dust. Satisfied with how much distance he'd managed to put, he turned his backslide into a sharp pivot, surprising one of the tentacled creatures as his boot slammed into its huge eye.

  Damien turned his attention to the other three as the last one staggered back with a high-pitched scream. This time, he wasn't given any reprieve.

  His spear blurred as he wove between their swirling tentacles, deflecting and striking as the opportunity arose. Due to their numerous appendages, he found himself deflecting and dodging more often than striking, but opportunities came when his spear found itself sliding past their tentacled defenses to strike, tip first, at the thickened body of the creatures, and this time it dug in.

  Damien grinned widely as he pulled back his spear, its tip slick with blue liquid. He didn't mind his body, which was soaked all through with his blood; all that really mattered was that he'd dealt a blow.

  The fight took a new turn when the fourth member finally joined back in, this time radiating a feeling of intense wrath that saw him backpedal immediately.

  With the arrival of the fourth member, the fight took a downward turn and Damien found himself fighting tooth and nail for his life.

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  A storm of bladed tentacles tore into him with the fury of a tornado, tearing into his defenses as he wove desperately to dodge them. Damien made sure to avoid the fatal strikes, but in return had to open himself to the tiny streams of scratches and stabs... Attacks that soon mounted into an avalanche that began weighing down on him, turning his strikes slow and his defenses weak.

  The beginning of the fight, which had started in a nondescript open space, now saw them meters away as they flashed from one location to another, weaving between giant bones and mounds to strike at each other.

  Probably because this place was his mind, a separate space from his soul, Damien found it impossible to shape techniques, or even summon his element in this place.

  The only good lining to that was that his enemies also seemed to have the same problem, both sides resorting to beating each other up with brute force.

  Unfortunately, he found himself on the losing end of the fight, given that his enemies seemed to be masters in the art of physical combat, while he was just a man who knew how to swing a spear.

  The only thing that kept him alive was the unnatural way he seemed to know this place, weaving between cracks in the ground that had otherwise been invisible a moment ago, leaving his opponents to stumble. And though they regained themselves within seconds, that split moment of disorientation left them open long enough for his spear to strike.

  Due to their exceedingly strong body, he'd only been able to deliver mere scratches and blows that hadn't resulted in anything significant all through, mostly because of how numerous and quick they were to come to each other's aid.

  But this time his target fumbled, stepping just ahead of the pack as it stumbled. And seeing no need to waste his opportunity, Damien's spear stabbed in quickly. One strike in, one out. And then he retreated.

  Silence reigned as everyone watched the mind demon fall on its knees, a gushing sound echoing out as it crashed down on its face with a loud squelch and a bleeding hole in its eyes.

  Slowly, the remaining four turned their attention back to him, this time with a touch of wariness—mostly from the three actually battling him.

  Their leader tsked, a tone of disgust dripping from its tongue as it scanned Damien's body from head to toe. "He's near dead, already. Finish him."

  Something seemed to have been laced with the voice of the demon, because the rest immediately washed away the hesitation that had gripped them, swarming in again with more fury.

  He continued, moving and using the natural formation of bones and ashy mounds as a defense against the furious storm of tentacles.

  With the rivers of blood that gushed down his body, Damien expected that he'd be slower than before, but on the contrary, it seemed to be the opposite.

  His enemies now stumbled on holes and pitfalls where there hadn't been one, and his spear slipped through their defenses, finding cracks where there had previously been none.

  One by one, as fortune slowly turned against them, they began falling. Their attacks became a little too slow to strike, giving Damien just the time to slip away.

  Their defenses opened at just the right opportune moment, leaving way for his spear to slip through, striking at eyes, the soft spots under their necks, and slicing through tentacles that had slipped forward a little bit too much.

  Through it all, Damien felt himself strangely getting stronger and stronger, his strength returning more and more until the last of the remaining three fell to the ground just as their head flew into the air, rolling to crash down at the feet of their leader.

  The larger demon was eerily quiet as it stared at the head and the large dead eyes that looked up at it. Finally, it turned to look at Damien, its tentacled arms slowly unfolding from where they had been curled behind its back.

  It regarded Damien for a while, silent as its eyes took in the body covered in both crimson and azure blood—all of which seemed to have dried up—with no new openings that could be seen.

  Damien casually strolled forward, his once lost confidence returning in spades. He swished his spear, twirling it through the air and then resting it finally over his neck.

  "Thank you for the training partners," he said, his eyes resting on the head laying on last opponent's feet. "I reckon they won't be training ever again." He shrugged. "Too bad..."

  Damien realized now why the feeling of getting killed in this place had terrified him.

  Death here, although not of the body, was still a final death. Since the bodies here were the physical representation of the mind, death here was a complete erasure of the ego, leaving a walking husk out in the real world.

  That was how the demons captured their thralls; victims of mind death.

  He shivered as he looked down at the multiple bodies, face grim at the thought of what could've befell him had he lost here.

  Well, he wasn't entirely out of the frying pan, yet.

  "How did you accomplish this?" The Demon finally demanded, its one eye snapping to focus on the human.

  "Beats me," Damien shrugged. "Maybe your stooges just have terrible stamina and I'm a master spearman. It doesn't matter. i won."

  Silence again. And then it calmly spoke. "No matter, I will have my answers after I consume your mind."