With that said, Damien began to move
The air shattered. Space folded inward, tearing a jagged hole in the crisp morning sky above the Imperial supply depot.
Damien stepped out of the spatial tear, his black combat coat snapping violently in the wind.
He hovered fifty feet above the sprawling military compound, looking down at the thousands of Imperial soldiers loading crates of grain and weaponry onto armored carriages.
He tapped into the golden thread connecting his soul to his butler.
Through the power of the Contract Gem, Alfred's [Spatial Manipulation] was now his to command. The transition was seamless.
The Alliance vanguard was marching through the breached gates of Gravestone miles behind him, but armies were slow. Armies needed supply lines, sleep, and morale.
Damien needed none of those things. As an 8th-Order entity, he had transcended the physical limitations of a mortal vessel.
