The art of dimensional travel; A simple, yet at the same time, tricky thing to master.

  The realm of Spirit lord was, for most, the stage where one began on their path of wielding the concepts that governed reality with nothing but the will, regardless of affinity.

  Space travel was a tricky thing, Damien understood. A single mistake could lead to devastating consequences, consequences that were definitely going to be fatal even for him. To his knowledge, the only people Damien knew capable of accomplishing such feats at an earlier realm were actual Space affinity wielders, and only a small, talented fraction that could boast such accomplishment. And even then, the highest they could go was a short-distance local teleportation.

  Space travel required an absurd amount of willpower, enough to tear open space, shift you through it, all the while you kept it open long enough for you to come out safely on the other side, all in the span of a single instant. And that wasn't discounting the passive aura pressure from the place all spatial travelers witnessed during transportation, which required a strong metaphysical weight to handle.

  A fault in both requirements could see one stuck in the place in-between worlds, or shredded to pieces if their luck was too rotten.

  As the Will grew, so did the feasibility and range one could cover until, at last, instant travel across the world became something instinctive and without much effort.

  Where Damien was now, he could say he was strong enough to not only carry himself but also another being alongside him—Not an accomplishment he could solely claim, mind you—however, the strain incurred would mount depending on the metaphysical weight of the person he was shifting alongside him, starting from something as little as a mild sense of discomfort to something a little bit serious like an intense splitting headache.

  It wasn't something he would, in his right mind, try, but he was very certain he could kill himself simply by moving someone with a bigger metaphysical weight than him.

  Shifting into the metaphysical was a skill bordering on that of the powers of those above. It was a far cry from their instinctive ability, but anyone who saw it would recognize it for what it was. This accomplishment, unlike the simple passing between space, was a feat he alone could safely boast of having accomplished. Passing through space was one thing, but staying there long enough to accomplish what you needed in your own time, or at least something close to it, was an entirely different task all on its own.

  Already, he was beginning to feel the pressure.

  Shifting the room and the other occupant had been the easy part, keeping them safe and whole was what was draining him fast. Thankfully, he hadn't shifted them too far into the metaphysical, and couldn't even if he tried. What he'd done was shift the room into the space it normally occupied, except this time it was in another place.

  Inwardly, Damien chuckled at the outrageousness of it all. He wouldn't blame any Spirit lord if they didn't believe him. He was still an Early-tier Spirit lord, after all, having climbed into the realm a few years back. He should have no business in the metaphysical.

  The little research he'd done had let him in on the fact that those above had it easy because of their inherent perks which allowed them to stay in the unreal indefinitely. But since Damien wasn't one of them, nor did he have such perks, he settled for actively reinforcing the room, soaking it with his mental energy and essence, to the extent that it was now probably stronger than most fortresses on the planet.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  It wasn't going to last long, he knew, but at the moment, it was strong enough to withstand the strange energies coursing through the metaphysical.

  He knew how weakened he was going to be when he moved back into the physical. If anyone on his level came, he'd be in big trouble.

  Already, he could sense the visitors waiting just outside the room's entrance, unwilling to come in lest they forfeit their lives. But that was a problem for later.

  Looking at the spy sitting across from him, Damien asked the question that had been on his mind ever since the man had finished his explanation.

  "Do you know what form this calamity will take, or the whereabouts of the calamity stopper you speak of?"

  Still drenched in fear, the spy shook his head.

  "I've searched the entire city and gone through its records, and there is no mention of anything that would point to any weapon powerful enough to threaten the Empire, nor anything that could prevent it."

  Damien sighed. He had been hoping to learn something about this so-called calamity, whatever it was. But it seemed his wish would not be granted today.

  He didn't hold any love for the Empire, quite the opposite,—there was too much bad blood between them for that— so anything calamitous that was heading towards them could head there with his full blessings. But what truly interested him was this calamity stopper, as it was called.

  To be regarded as a calamity was already a great deal. For something to be so powerful that the Pillars of the Solarian Empire couldn't stop it on their own might was near unheard of. Rarely did anyone have that much strength or effect. But to be a calamity stopper? Especially one capable of stopping something powerful enough to threaten the Empire of the Sun... the powers of this thing were definitely beyond what the world had ever seen.

  Calamities came in different forms, from empowered natural disasters to entities so strong that their simple passing could be foretold as a coming calamity. Even a brawl between extremely powerful Essence wielders could be considered a calamity for the lower-level people living in the affected areas.

  Why Damien didn't see any of that as this so-called calamity was that the Empire was among the pinnacle powers on the planet. No single force could defeat them alone, and only a coalition of great nations could hope to accomplish such feats. But Damien discounted that too, as he would have known of any coalition strong enough to raise such strength. The only beings strong enough to annihilate the Empire were the ones above, and those were never seen on the planet because of the World Spirit.

  Since there was no more reason to keep staying where they were, Damien decided to move them back.

  "You have answered my questions well enough to my satisfaction, so I'll let you go," he said "Though I will warn you to cease any actions on this continent. You do not want me to have to slap down that warlord of yours, now do you?"

  The man's expression turned pale.

  "Please don't kill me!" He crawled onto the floor, causing Damien to raise an eyebrow. "I promise not to say a word about you."

  Damien barked a sharp laugh at that.

  "Why would I do that? You already answered my questions truthfully. And besides—" his lips curled in distaste, "—I do not kill needlessly. Moreso, you do not need to worry about my safety. Let the Empire know of my presence here, if you will. It doesn't matter anymore."

  He had been hoping to keep his presence on this continent under the radar, but if Solaria had already turned its eyes here, then it was almost a sure thing that a clash would occur.

  Unlike the spy, Damien was certain that the Empire was probably aware of the glitch in their security. If this mission was as important as the man claimed, then he would need a constant check-in to keep his superiors at ease. A minute late and they'd start to worry.

  He and the man had been in here for hours.

  Swiftly, like the brewing of a sudden storm, Damien's expression turned sharp, and his voice hardened.

  "Though I'll warn you to caution them on crossing me. They should know this. My business is mine alone and they'd do well to stay out of it."

  With that, Damien firmed his mind, opened a dimensional tear, and pushed them back through.