The Power of Domains
The concept of domains.
Before I was thrust into this world, it was nothing more than a vague game setting.
Sure, there were characters who had achieved great domains, appearing time and again across countless iterations.
But perhaps it was the limitation of the game format.
Unlike the clearly defined unique skills with various additional effects, most domain activations were just a few effects that made the space seem distorted.
“All I could see beyond the monitor was the result, with the process skipped.”
After the dazzling effects faded away.
The screen only showed which buffs and debuffs were exchanged and how much damage was dealt.
So, while it was clear that domain activation was akin to some ultimate ability, delving deeper was no easy task.
That’s why seeing the sky and earth shrouded in ash was a first for Dalen.
Running across the ashen land, the warrior moved freely through the gaps in space.
“Return to the Abyss.”
The gray shadow flickered, and the man’s massive form blurred.
It wasn’t a mere illusion or trick of the eye.
Even the Mystic Eye of Shadow, which pierced through mysteries, and the Illusion Slayer, one of the artifacts of the Dark Moon Clan, were useless.
With a sound like tearing tough fabric, the man’s form vanished as if evaporating.
In the next moment, he reappeared, surrounding Dalen from eight directions, launching eight simultaneous attacks.
“Eightfold Scatter.”
A barrage of simple strikes with arms and legs.
Yet each blow carried enough destructive power to shatter a boulder the size of a house.
In the midst of the air-rending sound, Dalen took a short breath.
And then, a wind blew from somewhere.
“Technique Armor: White Wind Armor.”
“Rending Wind.”
Time slowed for a fleeting moment.
In an instant, a whirlwind wrapped around his arms and legs.
Using the wind barrier spell from the Delos Magic Tower, he turned the technique itself into armor, countering the attacks coming from all directions.
The wind, split into dozens of strands around his limbs, subtly misaligned the points of attack.
Forcing open non-existent gaps, he created time differences between the incoming attacks to respond.
With a hiss, he deflected a blade with his fist.
He tilted his head slightly to dodge a kick aimed at his head.
A knee thrust from the front. He stepped forward, using his planted leg to push away the thigh and twist the direction, then struck down an incoming chop to his side with his elbow.
Fingers and toes aiming for blind spots. He parried hands with hands, feet with feet, minimizing damage.
All this exchange of blows happened in a moment too brief for an ordinary person to perceive.
As the breath he had taken ran out, the world regained its speed, and a dozen air-rending sounds crashed in at once.
“Whoo—”
His breathing was ragged. There was no time to catch his breath.
He kicked off the ground, retreating just as a blurred form slammed down where he had stood.
Boom!
The ground split with a crack beneath the impact.
Without time to marvel at the power, the man’s limbs were enveloped in a swirling gray energy.
“Gray-White Shadow.”
“Twenty-Eight Instant Strikes.”
The gray energy took the form of real arms and legs, surging forward.
A clenched fist. An open palm. The edge of a hand and the tip of a foot, elbow and knee, even a heel descending from above.
The common belief that a human can only launch one attack at a time with their bare body, and that no matter how hard they try, they only have four limbs, was shattered by this twenty-eight-pronged assault.
Facing the gray wave that even a great chieftain couldn’t withstand, Dalen quickly formed hand seals, abandoning his holy sword.
“Flame Serpent.”
The ground spewed fire.
A serpent of flame burst from the earth, jaws wide, engulfing the incoming gray assault.
Crackle…
Even the flame serpent couldn’t withstand the man’s onslaught.
The fire, capable of incinerating an entire building, was torn apart in an instant by fists and kicks.
But it didn’t matter.
What Dalen needed was that brief moment.
Rumble…
Taking advantage of the delay the Flame Serpent provided, the sky beyond let out a low growl.
Dark crimson clouds crushed the gray heavens, unleashing dozens of fiery pillars.
“Domain Unleashed: Sky of the Sealed Snow Mountain.”
“Great Flame Pillars.”
The blazing pillars of fire descended upon the ashen land.
Like oil paint layered over a canvas, red was overlaid on the gray world.
The dozens of brushstrokes wielded by the dark clouds not only swallowed the twenty-eight-pronged assault but also pursued the man’s form, threatening to engulf his very existence.
“Impressive! Truly worthy of being chosen by the Well of Reversal!”
Amidst the cataclysmic display of flames, the man, dodging the fiery pillars by leaping through space, finally spoke.
“But it’s still not enough! Even my final strike, which blew away a mountain peak, only managed to scratch Suum’s armor! Do you think you can stop the five evil gods when you can’t even easily defeat me?”
Each word was laced with emotions he couldn’t hide.
Rage at the apocalypse that consumed the world.
Helplessness at his inability to overcome it.
Regret, fear, jealousy, stubbornness. Each sentence he uttered dripped with raw emotion.
By then, the white tattoos covering the man’s body shone brilliantly, and even his brown eyes transformed, emitting a gray-white glow.
“White tattoos… the symbol of being recognized as kin by the High Orcs.”
Dalen knew what those tattoos represented.
Similar to those engraved on the High Orcs, these tattoos were a gift from the tribe, bestowed by the most skilled shamans among the chieftains.
Despite being of a different race, they acknowledged him as one of their own after decades of living together as family, overcoming countless trials.
“Convince me! Defeat me! And claim my power!”
Naturally, the tattoos’ abilities were closely tied to the High Orcs’ traits.
A form of shamanism that used one’s emotions and intellect as fuel for combat, allowing them to surpass their usual limits.
The increasingly simplistic speech, akin to the High Orcs, was likely a side effect of burning through his intellect and emotions to enhance his martial prowess.
And the effects were as dramatic as the sacrifices made.
Boom!
He punched into the descending fiery pillar.
With a thunderous roar, the space distorted, and the several-meter-wide pillar of fire snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
The single man’s fists nullified the dozens of fiery pillars unleashed by the dark clouds.
“No, calling it a skill doesn’t do it justice.”
It wasn’t just a punch.
The sound wasn’t merely air being torn; it was the noise of space itself being crushed.
If the man’s signature skill, “Return to the Abyss,” was the result of deep research into the meaning of space and distance as a martial artist, using shadow shamanism as a medium to delve into the gaps of space…
The current strikes went beyond that, practically chewing up and crushing space itself.
Boom— Boom—
Space burst and crumbled under the simple strikes.
The destructive power was comparable to the breath of the fallen Azure Dragon of the previous era.
After dispelling the last fiery pillar, the man turned to Dalen, his breathing heavy.
“Huff… Huff…”
Eyes burning with fighting spirit.
A murderous aura that seemed to freeze the air.
The calm demeanor of a warrior who had honed his martial skills, which had been evident when he first admired the snowy mountain scenery, was nowhere to be found.
All outward tranquility had vanished, leaving only a wounded beast hidden deep within.
Creak…
Left foot forward.
Right foot back.
As he slowly drew his fist back, the space twisted, and the scenery around him warped.
”…”
Dalen quietly met the man’s fierce gaze.
The clenched fist and wide eyes resembled the ashen corpse he had seen at the great chieftain’s funeral.
The warrior who had delivered a final blow to the demon horde, standing even in death.
Perhaps what the man saw in Dalen’s place was not him, but the army of evil gods that had filled the valley in their final moments.
Rumble…
If that’s the case.
He just needed to prove it.
Just as the evil god Suum had taken the blow that had obliterated the mountain peak head-on on that final day.
Dalen only needed to show that he could withstand that desperate strike with his bare body.
To demonstrate that, compared to the despair that had brought the gray-white warrior to his knees, Dalen was not lacking.
Even in the heart of a warrior who gave everything but couldn’t claim victory, a glimmer of hope can still emerge.
He exhaled deeply.
Just gathering his breath filled his weary body with renewed energy.
Swordsmanship, spells, dragon blood, miracles, and more.
Though these possibilities have branched into dozens of paths, none of them were the original spark.
He exhaled again.
He recalled the first possibility that summoned thunder without a holy sword or a spell to conjure storm clouds.
Deep within the mines of the labyrinthine city.
The strike he crafted in the heart of the cultists.
Remembering the blow that felled the demon-empowered grandmaster, Dalen drew back his fist, mirroring the stance of the warrior before him.
With fists aimed at each other, the two warriors stood dozens of meters apart.
Whoosh—
The tense air shattered in an instant.
“The Ashen Sky of the End”
“Gray Force Pillar Break”
Space crumbled under a single punch.
“The Closed Sky of the Snowy Mountain”
“Fist”
Thunder roared with another strike.
━━━━━━!
And as the world tore apart.
Several kilometers behind the two figures, two peaks of the snowy mountain suddenly vanished.
‘…Run…’
Faint whispers.
‘Dale…wake up…!’
The metallic taste of blood clawed at his throat.
“…Run! Dalen!”
The heat surging back through his nose and mouth jolted him awake.
Dalen’s eyes snapped open.
“Cough! Gah!”
Instinctively, he clutched his chest. The throbbing pain was intense. His heart pounded wildly, pumping dragon blood through his veins.
Thud. Thud.
With trembling hands, he tapped around his heart a few times. As if understanding, his heart gradually slowed its frantic pace.
“Dalen! Dalen! Are you with us?”
Turning his gaze with effort, he saw Lucia. And beyond her, the concerned faces of his companions and the clear blue sky.
‘…Sky?’
Seeing Lucia meant this was reality. But when did I end up lying here?
As he tried to rise, unbearable pain surged through his body once more.
“Ugh…”
“Don’t get up, Dalen! Do you have any idea what condition you’re in?”
“What… condition…?”
“About an hour ago, you suddenly collapsed, bleeding from everywhere. Your muscles and bones were shattered, and your organs were torn to pieces!”
What the hell does that even mean?