Heavenly Opposers

Today, Azrail set aside the raging infernos of Omega Asura's Wrath, the devouring shadows of his soul, and the intricate webs of his mental realm. This session was dedicated solely to World Spirit Energy, the serene yet ferocious force that whispered of miracles and storms.

He had delved into its basics before, manifesting simple orbs and distortions, altering stones into fleeting phoenixes through emotional resonance. But combat was different—a symphony of chaos where control meant survival. "All-Seer, initiate World Spirit Combat Protocol. Phase One: Elemental Adversaries. Simulate opponents at Heavenly Saint Realm, adaptive to reality manipulation. Environment: Fluid Reality Nexus," Azrail commanded, his voice a calm anchor in the swirling blue.

[Affirmative, Master. Generating simulated entities. World Spirit Energy parameters optimised for isolation. No cross-power integration allowed. Proceed with vigilance,] the All-Seer replied, its tone laced with analytical precision.

The chamber responded instantly. The boundless blue coalesced into a dynamic battlefield: undulating waves of energy formed floating platforms that shifted like living tides, bridges of light connecting them in ever-changing patterns. From the depths emerged four adversaries—ethereal constructs born of simulated World Spirit essence.

They weren't mere Qi puppets; these were manifestations of alternate realities, each embodying a facet of cosmic fury. The first was a colossal storm spirit, its body a vortex of thunderous clouds that warped gravity around it. The second, an earthen colossus, was rooted in shifting sands that could harden into impenetrable barriers or dissolve into quicksand voids. The third shimmered as a watery mirage, illusions rippling across its form to multiply and deceive. The fourth burned with stellar fire, a star-born entity that pulled in light and spat out searing plasma bursts.

Azrail felt the calm blue energy stir within him, his World Spirit core—a nascent orb in his dantian—trembling with anticipation. His connection was still weak, a fragile thread to the SSS+ ranked World Spirit Realm, but he had broken down its core concepts through [Record and Analyse]. "World Spirit Energy is the beautiful, calm ocean that looks harmless and fun, but when a storm rages, its anger would be the fiercest of them all," he recalled from the ancient texts. It wasn't about brute force like Qi; it was about grasping realities, weaving miracles from the fabric of existence itself.

He began with the basics, channelling the energy to form a Tier Zero worldly control: a simple white orb that floated before him. But in combat, simplicity was a weapon. The storm spirit struck first, unleashing a gale of wind blades infused with spatial tears—reality-rending edges that could slice through dimensions.

Azrail didn't dodge; instead, he infused the orb with intent. "Distort," he whispered, his emotions surging: the quiet rage from his past lives, the unyielding ambition to protect his family. The orb expanded, creating a localised distortion field. The wind blades veered off course, bending as if pulled by an invisible current, looping harmlessly into a self-contained vortex that imploded upon itself.

The earthen colossus charged next, its massive fists pounding the platform, sending shockwaves that cracked the energy bridges. Azrail leapt to an adjacent wave, his body lightened by a subtle infusion of World Spirit Energy that reduced his gravitational pull. He countered by visualising the colossus's form not as solid matter, but as malleable particles.

Channelling emotional resonance—his deep-seated desire for control over chaos—he willed the energy to "Alter." The colossus's sandy armour began to shimmer, transforming into fragile glass under his gaze. As it swung again, its fist shattered against the air, shards raining down into the blue abyss below.

'Not enough. Push the connection deeper,' Azrail thought, sweat beading on his forehead from the mental strain. World Spirit Energy demanded comprehension, not just power. He drew on the whispers of the universe, the ancient elemental spirits he had sensed in prior meditations. The watery mirage split into a dozen illusions, each launching spears of condensed liquid that froze mid-air into razor ice.

Azrail closed his eyes briefly, attuning to the energy's flow. He envisioned the illusions as threads in a tapestry, and with a surge of focused intent, he "Weaves." Blue strands of energy extended from his palms, threading through the mirages like a cosmic loom. The false ones unravelled, dissolving into mist, while the true entity recoiled, its form destabilised as Azrail pulled at its core reality, forcing it to condense into a vulnerable puddle.

The stellar fire entity roared, a sound like exploding suns, and hurled a barrage of plasma orbs that warped space-time around them, creating micro-black holes that sucked in nearby platforms. Azrail felt the pull, his footing slipping as reality bent.

This was the true test—World Spirit Energy's storm aspect. He channelled his emotions fully now: the humiliation of his controlled past, the fierce protectiveness for Yurou, Xuanyin, and the others. The calm blue around him intensified, swirling into a tempest. "Create," he commanded, manifesting a barrier not of force, but of alternate reality. The plasma orbs struck an invisible wall where physics inverted—heat became cold, attraction became repulsion. The orbs rebounded, amplified, slamming back into the stellar entity and causing it to fracture like a dying star.

The constructs adapted, merging their assaults. The storm spirit fused with the watery mirage, creating a hurricane of illusory blades that hid true spatial rifts. The earthen colossus and stellar entity combined into a molten golem, its body a fusion of sand and plasma that regenerated endlessly. Azrail's breath steadied; this was where the energy's duality shone. He floated upward, the blue energy buoying him like an ocean current.

Drawing deeper into his core, he activated a self-devised technique: "Reality Cascade." Visualising the battlefield as layers of overlapping worlds, he peeled them apart with his will. The hurricane's illusions flickered, exposed as he shifted the perceptual layer, revealing the hidden rifts. With a gesture, he "sealed," binding the rifts with threads of World Spirit Energy, turning the storm's fury into a harmless breeze that whispered secrets of the cosmos.

The molten golem lumbered forward, its regeneration drawing from simulated infinite realities. Azrail met it head-on, his hands glowing with a blue aura. He touched its surface, infusing "Resonate." His emotions poured in—a symphony of vengeance and serenity—causing the golem's internal structure to vibrate in harmony with his intent.

Cracks formed not from impact, but from existential dissonance; the sand rejected the plasma, the plasma cooled the sand. It crumbled, reforming only to shatter again, until Azrail willed "Erase," subtly altering its base reality to one where it never existed. The golem vanished in a puff of blue mist, leaving echoes of what-could-have-been.

Hours stretched in the timeless chamber, the simulation escalating. All-Seer introduced new phases: a swarm of lesser spirits, each a fragment of reality—time-looping echoes that repeated attacks, space-folding assassins that teleported mid-strike, and fate-weaving oracles that predicted his moves.

Azrail adapted uniquely each time. Against the time-loopers, he used "Temporal Anchor," grounding a pocket of reality where time flowed linearly under his control, breaking their cycles. For the space-folders, "Spatial Harmony" unfolded their shortcuts, forcing them into linear paths where he could intercept with precision distortions.

One particularly vivid sequence pitted him against a colossal World Spirit Fairy simulation—a high-ranked entity he aspired to bond with for evolution. It manifested as a luminous being of pure energy, weaving miracles like living barriers and reality-warping spells.

Azrail dodged its initial assault, a cascade of blooming flowers that exploded into dimensional shards. He countered with "Emotional Mirage," channelling his inner turmoil to create illusory duplicates of himself, each infused with a sliver of true World Spirit Energy. The fairy attacked the fakes, wasting power, while Azrail closed in. "Bind," he intoned, wrapping blue chains around it—chains not of matter, but of enforced reality, compelling the fairy to acknowledge his dominance.

As the fairy struggled, Azrail delved into advanced alteration. He visualised its luminous form as a canvas, painting over it with his will: "Transmute." Its attacks turned inward, miracles becoming curses that eroded its own essence.

The battle peaked when it summoned a storm of realities—alternate versions of Azrail assaulting him. He met them with "Unity," merging the energies into a single, harmonious flow that absorbed the alternates, strengthening his core connection. The fairy dissipated, its simulated defeat a milestone.

Exhaustion crept in, but Azrail pushed on. He reflected mid-battle: 'This energy connects me to the universe's whispers. It's not just power; it's understanding the interconnectedness of all things.' In the final phase, the chamber simulated a catastrophic event—a realm that collapsed, where gravity inverted, time dilated, and space fractured.

Azrail stood as the eye of the storm, channelling World Spirit Energy to "Stabilise." Blue waves emanated, mending the fractures, normalising time, and anchoring gravity. It was defensive combat, wrestling reality itself into submission.

As the protocol ended, Azrail collapsed to one knee, the blue energy receding. His connection had deepened; the thread to the World Spirit Realm now pulsed stronger. 'A perfect path of growth and plunder,' he thought, a wry smile forming. He knew the requirements for evolution—acquiring a high-ranked fairy, mastering distortions—would piss off many, but who could stand against one who wielded realities?

[Training data logged. World Spirit proficiency increased by 15%. Prepare for integration phases,] All-Seer noted.

Azrail rose, the chamber reverting to its pristine state. The path of the Irregular was unforgiving, but in this unique dance with the cosmos, he felt unbreakable.