A third tried to unleash a wave of solar fire, calling down a burning meteor from the heavens.
Damien lifted his hand.
Space bent.
The meteor curved, just a fraction, just enough. It slammed back into the caster with a thunderous roar, his own attack devouring him whole.
The golden path wound on, like an ancient road only he could see, and Damien followed it without pause. His spear spun in his hand like a sentient being eager for blood. Every thrust pierced a heart. Every sweep tore through multiple bodies. Every breath was calculated. His elemental energies flowed not like tools, but instincts.
He shifted his footwork and infused his next strike with time.
The world slowed.
Flames froze mid-air. The screaming warriors moved in slow motion. Damien moved like a phantom among statues, and each precise movement of his spear carved death into waiting flesh. When time snapped back to normal, seven heads rolled at once, followed by a wall of collapsing bodies.
They broke.
