Fear shook Keilan as multiple Spirit Kings rose against him, each brimming with catastrophic power. Despite this, though, he still projected defiance and anger; meanwhile, inside, he was anything but. These were Spirit Kings, not lords, a single hit from one of them could render him completely paralyzed, if not dead.

  How did he even manage to kill one? He began but quenched the budding stream of thought. That was a mystery for another time, he needed to focus on the present.

  Pressure descended on him and darkness befell him. He grunted as he was forced down to the earth, crashing into it until he formed his own crater. Keilan grunted and gritted his teeth as he forced himself to his knees. If he was going to die, at least he'd die on his two feet.

  With more perseverance than he thought he had, he finally forced himself up to his feet.

  The pressure immediately doubled after he got to his feet and Keilan felt like a mountain—mountains—had been stacked repeatedly on his shoulders. He could feel his bones creak, fractures spreading through multiple surfaces as the pressure slowly overwhelmed him.

  His body was slowly breaking down, fissures spreading through his bones, and his muscles slowly liquifying. Blood pounded through his head, a loud roar in his head, but Keilan pushed it to the back of his mind. All he could think of at the moment was survival. How to get away from the monsters bearing down on him.

  The answer wasn't long in coming.

  His Ascended Technique.

  Keilan grimaced at that thought. The last time he'd used his Ascended Technique, he'd paralyzed himself for weeks. Sure, he believed he could use it without the extreme repercussions that came the last time, but belief and certainty were two different things.

  If you don't use it, you'll die.

  He felt himself enclosed. On one hand was certain death, the end. On the other hand, there was a nice wretched thing called spiritual mutilation. There was a huge possibility he'd survive this one, with only a small percentage of death if worst came to worst.

  Keilan raised his head through the pressure, surprised he hadn't been attacked yet. His eyes widened when instead of witnessing dozens of Spirit lords bearing down on him, he only saw one that hovered above his head—a big black giant serpent.

  The moment he noticed this, the pressure holding him down vanished and he immediately scrambled for air.

  “You're one hell of an onion, you know?" Huiron stepped out beside him. The man studied Keilan with an indiscernible expression. “Any time I think I've got you figured out, you pull a whole other layer out of your ass.”

  Keilan raised an eyebrow when the other man leaned back, eyes pointedly directed at his backside. “You got any more tricks hidden back there?”

  “No.”

  “So that death tornado was a one-time thing, then?”

  “I don't know.”

  Keilan took a step forward and his lips pressed together when sharp pains sprouted all over his body. He pushed through it. “How do we deal with the Spirit Kings?”

  “You don't,” Huiron replied. “Leave that to Ala. What you should be worried about, Mr. Onion—” the other man turned around and pointed, “—is the swarm of flapping death birds coming to kill you.”

  Keilan followed his hands and sucked in another deep breath. His hands tightened on his spear.

  In front of him, a short distance away and nearing quickly, were the forms of countless Aveanii, each burning with furious energy as they flew towards him. He took a step back when he felt the pressure they emitted—all of them were image-enhanced.

  “How do we take them?” He breathed out.

  “You will take nothing,” a new voice replied and Vanis dropped down before him. “You're done for now. Go get healed.”

  The Verrille scion wore his black and crimson armor, which crackled with tiny tongues of lightning that ran all over its length. His bident crackled with energy in his hand, crimson lightning flickering between both prongs.

  “I… can still fight,” Keilan gritted out.

  “No you can't. You can barely stand.”

  Keilan scowled and prepared a counter when Sareina stepped up to his right, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  “He speaks the truth, Keilan. You are half crippled as it is, you'd only get in the way should we allow you to stay. Take the advice and go see a healer immediately.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “What about the rescue? You need my help.”

  “We can take care of that, onion boy,” Huiron stepped closer to him. “You just worry about your healing. It shouldn't take long. Once you're all back up nice and good, you can take to the skies. I'm sure you'll be able to find us.”

  Keilan shook Sareina's hands off and moved forward, only to stagger at the last moment, collapsing down on his knees. Celestials, his body hurt so bad. Despite his affinity with the wind, he could barely take in any air. And his head kept ringing, a constant white noise that never seemed to end.

  He took in a deep breath, calming his mind. He understood what the others said, and even though it stung to be sidelined so early on, Keilan saw the truth in their words. He'd be a detriment if he continued like this.

  With a sigh, he turned around, unsurprised to find a man in a robe waiting for him. By his get-up and the soft aura that wafted around him, Keilan immediately pegged him as the healer.

  Another two men stood beside him, both of them Spirit Kings. They were dressed in armor and radiated powerful auras. Second or third domain Kings, Keilan didn't care at the moment.

  His mood turned sour.

  ***

  The healing house stank of misery, despair, and death as he was led in. The inside was a big hall, each side lined with rows and rows of beds filled with the injured, both warriors and civilians. Cries and moans filled the air, basically all he could hear.

  The moment Keilan stepped in, he realized that his injury was likely on the lower end compared to the ones around here. He grimaced at that and couldn't help but berate himself for taking time and energy that should have been used to heal these people.

  Right in front of his eyes, he watched a man die as his body finally succumbed to the necrosis that had been eating him, turning half his entire body into a mess of black rotten flesh.

  Another man, a civilian, screamed in anguish as he stretched for the entrance. He was held back by the healers. “I WANT MY SON! THEY TOOK MY SON! PLEASE LET ME GO BACK FOR HIM! I BEG OF YOU, PLEASE!"

  Keilan turned his face away, hiding the fury that threatened to breach the surface. He took in a deep breath and then turned to another location.

  A woman motionlessly stared up at the ceiling, catatonic. Her body, from the waist down, had been separated from the upper half, with blood dripping steadily onto the white mattress she was on. A couple of Spirit lord healers stood around her, and Keilan could sense the energy that was being directed into her body. And still, she was barely responsive.

  “What is wrong with her?” he looked up at the healer behind him, who pushed the strange chair with wheels that he'd been asked to settle onto. The Spirit King body guards had moved on to other things the moment they dropped them off at the entrance.

  “She's injured,” the other man answered absentmindedly.

  “I can see that. Why's she not healing?”

  “Oh,” his healer focused down on him. His green eyes flickered to the woman in question and then turned back to Keilan. “From the look of things, it's very likely she suffered an attack from a peak-tier Spirit lord.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Those healers are mid-tier lords. The only reason they'll have an issue healing her is if the person who dealt the injury is greater than them. They have to erode his will first.”

  Keilan frowned. “Her injury is will-infused?”

  “Yes, and clearly by a powerful Spirit lord, too. It would take too long to erode the maleficent will blocking her healing, by then she'd likely be dead, unless… ahh, there she is.”

  Keilan turned just as a woman glided into the hall, white robes flaring out behind her from a non-existent wind. Despite the petite, feminine stature, this woman towered over seven feet tall, her full height dwarfing everyone in the hall.

  Her entrance caused a hush amongst those who were conscious.

  Powerful eyes glanced around, and Keilan sensed strings of energy stretching from her body. It happened faster than he could blink, countless strings connecting to all those moaning and groaning in unconscious agony.

  And slowly, in real time, every dismembered limb, fire burns, lightning burns, even acid burns, and other fatal injuries were healed, the victim's flesh returned to pristine stature.

  The girl who'd been cut in twain had her body fixed, but her eyes remained unseeing at the ceiling. She might have been healed physically, but her mental injury was probably just as devastating as the physical one, and that was something Keilan believed could not be healed with the simple snap of a finger.

  The woman glided back out of the hall the instant she was done, trailed behind by a small squad of powerful Spirit King warriors.

  “That was a Life Priestess. Why didn't she just heal everyone?”

  “There are thousands of fatally injured on this section alone, lord Keilan, both lords and Kings. The priestess has to prioritize her energy lest she drain herself. I'm sure she would have gladly healed you if you'd asked.”

  Keilan grimaced and turned away. True, he'd wanted to pursue the woman and request a healing, but after what his healer had just said, he realized it would be a selfish thing to do.

  He was led to a bed close to the other end of the hall, where he lay down with a groan. His healer didn't waste time and began channeling energy into him, and his body relaxed as he felt the cracks in his bones begin to close.

  The banging headache ringing in his head slowly receded and Keilan felt sleep slowly encroach.

  He didn't know how long it took, but the healer eventually finished, pulling back his hands. Sweat beaded his brow.

  “I'm done. All your bones are healed, same as your muscles. You're back too full health, but I'd advise you to remain here. All your healed parts are in fragile state right now, any stress you put on them will see us back to square one again.”

  Keilan grimaced. “How long will I need to remain here?”

  “A little below four hours.”

  That was close to the entire time he'd spent on this system. He'd be spending that same amount on a bed. He grimaced but nodded.

  “Good,” his healer nodded. "I'll return to check up on you. I need to see to the next batch of Injured.”

  ***

  To say that Keilan felt bored would be an understatement. It was like he'd been deprived of every stimulating exercise and then confined to a white room for days. His mind felt like it would explode.

  Left with nothing to do, Keilan decided to meditate. At least by doing that, he'd hasten his healing.

  It took a while fully free the weight on his body, clearing his mind. The moment all that was done, Keilan's mind expanded.

  …He snapped it back in an instant as his eyes opened wide in panic.

  He looked around, heart beating rapidly.

  “You alright?” The man laying on the next bed asked.

  Keilan took a deep breath and then waved him off. “Yeah, I'm fine, just spooked, is all…”

  Prepared this time, he tried again, and this time he managed to control the panic that almost took him over. Immediately, he recognized why he had perceived the stank of death the moment he walked in.

  Death choked everywhere.