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All wrong. Everything. Germal was floundering under the barrage of attacks. Desperately, he tried every different option that arose into his mind. Stop? Unaffected. Numb? Unaffected. Slow? Unaffected. Distract? Unaffected. Wipe? Unaffected. Break? Unaffected.

Of course not. Damian was already broken. Be smarter.

How? Damian was relentless. And how gotten the drop on him, besides. The man was not letting go of the upper hand, nor would he.

That look in his eyes. He had knowledge that he shouldn't. And he just kept talking. Smiling. Laughing.

"Even if you survive me here today, your loss is inevitable. Don't you see? Your struggles against oblivion are precisely what will doom you in the end. Because oblivion isn't even so. Your cowardice is exactly--"

On and on. A constant through the fighting. Germal reached out to Koh, but he already knew it was fruitless. The wolf helped only when he deigned to--and this was not one such occasion, apparently.

More nonsense. Useless thrall.

The domain was wavering now. Germal couldn't maintain it. The reapers would begin to regain awareness.

Agh, but perhaps that was good? With no context, maybe they would actually--

A truly sold blow landed on Germal's jaw, connecting far more deeply than mere flesh and bone.

Ettol felt it. The soul itself rattled.

He hit the ground and skid across the ancient stones. Blood smeared across his vision as he struggled for awareness. Germal? Ettol? Jonah?

Damian was there. Whaling on him again. He could scarcely even process that much, now. The world was blinking. Fading.

Was this death? Yet another failed incarnation? Ended prematurely?

Frustration was the only emotion in his mind. What a wasted opportunity.

But then it stopped. The pounding on his skull. His soul was still trembling, yes, but no longer in exponential manner. It was calming again. His thoughts, settling. Awareness, returning.

This body was still far from ready to listen, though. He felt like a smear on the floor. And perhaps was--or little better than. If Damian had started using that mysterious ability of his, then that wouldn't be a surprise.

But he still heard fighting. Shouting. Familiar voices.

Reapers.

And Parson. The man had finally arrived. Even later than usual.

But still timely enough to save his life, apparently.

Germal couldn't make out what they were saying, but the unfolding scene was obvious enough even without such details. Damian was arguing, no doubt trying to convince Parson not to interfere.

But thankfully, the madness was there, too. And Parson was sharp enough. It must have been obvious to him.