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

  The realm of Spirit lord was for most, the stage where one becomes powerful enough to harness the concept of space with nothing but the will, regardless of affinity. Space travel was a tricky thing, Damien knew, and if the body and mental faculties of a being weren't powerful enough, they risked succumbing to the pressures of space. To his knowledge, the only people Damien knew capable of accomplishing such feats at an earlier realm were actual Space affinity wielders, and even then it was only a small, talented fraction that could boast such accomplishment. And even then, the highest they could go was a short-distance teleportation.

  Space travel requires a will strong enough to open a tear in space, shift you through it, and keep it open long enough for you to come out safely on the other side, all in a span of instants. And that wasn't discounting the aura pressure of 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 rotten enough.

  As your will grows, so do the capabilities and range one could cover until, at last, instant travel across the world becomes a possibility.

  Where Damien was now, he could say he was strong enough to not only carry himself but also another being with him. However, the strain incurred would mount depending on the metaphysical weight of the person he was shifting alongside, starting from something as little as a mild sense of discomfort to something a little bit serious like hours of splitting headaches, and then to severe consequences like brain death or actual death.

  At the stages where one begins to leave behind their mortality behind grants you the capability to move yourself across the entire world, with some severe strain. You could even move armies halfway across, though hardly anyone ever does it, as there was always a high chance of things fucking up. Only spirit lords had those capabilities. Though Damien was proud enough to say it would take far more than that for him to even feel any sense of discomfort.

  Shifting into the unreal was a skill bordering on that of the Spirit King's capabilities to shift across worlds, given they'd already gotten permission from the World Spirit beforehand. No, what Damien did wasn't as powerful as that, though it was powerful enough that he knew of no Spirit lord capable of such a feat. 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 entire 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 unreal, 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 the unreal.

  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 a mid-tier Spirit lord, after all. He should have no business in the unreal.

  The little research he'd done had let him in on the fact that Spirit Kings had it easy because of their domains, which allowed them to stay in the unreal indefinitely. But since Damien wasn't a Spirit King, nor could he form a domain, he settled for actively reinforcing the room, soaking it with his mental energy, to the extent that it was now probably stronger than any fortress on the planet. It wasn't going to last, but at the moment, it was strong enough to withstand the strange energies coursing through the metaphysical.

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  He knew how weakened he was going to be when he moved back into the physical, not weakened enough that he could be defeated by any of the soldiers in the city. But if anyone stronger came, he'd be in 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 on the bed across from him, Damien asked the question that had been on his mind after the man had finished his explanation.

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

  Still drenched in fear, the man shook his head.

  "I've searched the entire city and gone through the city's records, 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 calamity, whatever it was. But it seemed his wish would not be granted.

  He didn't hold any love for the empire —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, something needed to be of at least Spirit lord make, and anything capable of stopping that had to be at least more powerful. Anything lesser would just be courting death, Damien knew. He'd seen enough cities destroyed because of that.

  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 co-called calamity was that the empire was among the pinnacle forces on the planet. No single force could defeat them alone, and only a coalition of great nations could hope to accompany such feats. But Damien discounted that too, as he would have known of any coalition strong enough to be called a calamity. The only beings strong enough to completely annihilate the Empire were the Spirit Kings, and those weren't allowed on the planet lest they anger the World Spirit of the planet.

  World spirits were well known for being overprotective of their respective bodies. When it came to their bodies, which were also their territories, they could be completely wrathful, and no one wants to anger an overprotective ascendant.

  They were so protective that anyone ascending into the realm of Spirit King was in no subtle way warned to leave the planet or swear a binding oath to utter pacifism while on that planet.

  Damien chuckled inwardly at that. No Spirit King would swear such an oath just to stay on a floating rock.

  Mostly, they just lived in castles and fortresses floating in space.

  Deciding that he had no more reason to keep staying where they were, Damien decided to move them back.

  "Since you have answered my questions well enough to my satisfaction, I'll let you go," Damien smiled. "Though I will warn you to cease what you are doing. 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!" The man immediately crawled onto the floor. "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. Also, you do not need to worry about my safety. Let the Empire know of my presence here, it doesn't matter anymore."

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

  "Though I'll advise you to caution them on crossing me. My business is mine and they'd do well to stay out of it."

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