Celestial Remnant: The Eternal Ascension

The pain in Damian's ribs burned like fire. He was too slow. Too weak. Too mortal.

The Shadow Fang assassins moved with inhuman precision, their blades slicing through the air with deadly intent. Evelyn was holding her own, but she was outnumbered.

Another assassin lunged at Damian. He barely twisted away in time, the tip of a dagger grazing his shoulder. Blood seeped into his torn robes. His body, once accustomed to godlike strength, now felt like dead weight.

This is humiliating.

A second attack came, a dagger streaking toward his throat. Damian tried to dodge—but his movements were still sluggish.

Then, in a blur of motion, Evelyn was there.

Her sword flashed like lightning, intercepting the assassin's blade before it could connect. A single step placed her between Damian and the enemy, her silver eyes gleaming with cold focus.

"You really are useless right now," she muttered.

Damian scowled, breathing heavily. "I wasn't always."

Evelyn didn't reply. Instead, she pivoted, striking down another assassin in one fluid motion. The remaining three circled cautiously, reassessing the fight.

"We don't have time for this," one of them hissed. "Kill them and be done with it."

Damian clenched his fists. He couldn't keep relying on her to protect him.

And then—

He felt it again.

A whisper of power. A flicker of the celestial energy that had once made him a god. It pulsed faintly within him, buried beneath layers of mortal weakness.

He inhaled sharply. Could he still use it?

His instincts screamed that it was dangerous. His celestial core had been shattered. Without it, wielding energy could tear his fragile body apart.

But he didn't have a choice.

The assassins surged forward.

Damian forced himself to reach inward, grasping for the ember of power hidden deep in his being. The moment his mind touched it, a raw surge of energy crackled through his veins. His body tensed, the pain sharp, but—

Yes. It was still there.

A single thread of celestial essence.

Not enough to unleash divine techniques. Not enough to command the heavens.

But enough to fight.

As the first assassin lunged, Damian moved—not with his failing mortal instincts, but with the muscle memory of a god.

He sidestepped the incoming blade, faster than before, and drove his elbow into the assassin's chest. The force sent the man stumbling back.

The second attacker closed in—Damian ducked low, swept his leg out, and sent the assassin crashing to the ground.

His body was still weak, but his movements were sharper. More precise.

He was still Damian Vance.

Evelyn glanced at him in surprise. "Huh. So you're not entirely useless."

"Give me five minutes," Damian gritted out. "I'll be a lot more useful."

She snorted. "If we survive that long."

The remaining assassins hesitated now, reassessing their odds. Their arrogance was gone—replaced with the cold calculation of men who had underestimated their prey.

The leader of the group narrowed his eyes. "We should retreat."

"Cowards," one of his men spat.

"This was a scouting mission," the leader snapped. "We weren't prepared for him."

Damian's pulse quickened. They knew who he was.

Before he could press for answers, the assassins vanished into the shadows, their forms dissolving into the mist of the forest.

A tense silence followed.

Evelyn exhaled, rolling her shoulders. "Tch. I wanted to kill at least one more."

Damian barely heard her. His mind was racing.

They weren't just random assassins. They had been sent specifically to find him. But by who?

He had many enemies—across the mortal, spiritual, and divine realms. But most of them believed he was dead.

Someone knew otherwise.

Evelyn sheathed her blade and turned to him. "You going to explain what that was?"

Damian ran a hand through his messy hair, still feeling the faint hum of energy within him. It was weak. Barely a fraction of what he once wielded.

But it was something.

"I guess I got lucky," he said vaguely.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't luck."

She was sharp. Too sharp.

Damian met her gaze. "And what about you? You don't exactly fight like a wandering traveler."

She smirked. "I never said I was one."

Silence stretched between them. They were both keeping secrets.

For now, that was fine.

"Come on," Evelyn said finally. "We need to move. If they were scouting, that means more are coming."

Damian took a deep breath and nodded.

One thing was clear.

If he was going to survive, if he was going to reclaim even a fraction of what he had lost—he had to recover his strength.

And fast.

---

A Hidden Refuge

Evelyn led him deeper into the forest.

They traveled in silence for the better part of an hour, navigating through dense foliage and ancient trees. Damian's body still ached, but his mind was clear.

Finally, Evelyn stopped before a secluded cave entrance, partially concealed by thick vines.

"This should be safe for now," she said, stepping inside.

Damian followed, noting the signs of previous use—remnants of an old fire, a few scattered supplies tucked into a corner.

"You live here?" he asked.

Evelyn scoffed. "I'm not homeless."

She set down her sword and leaned against the cave wall. "It's a temporary hideout. I have a few of them across the region."

Damian nodded, sitting down by the unlit firepit.

The tension between them was still present—but something had shifted.

Before, Evelyn had seen him as dead weight. Now? There was curiosity in her gaze.

Damian exhaled. His entire body ached from the earlier fight. But he couldn't rest. Not yet.

He closed his eyes, reaching inward again.

That ember of power was still there.

Small. Fragile.

But it was his.

And if there was even a sliver of his former strength left—he would tear the heavens apart to reclaim the rest.

Evelyn watched him in silence.

Then, after a long pause, she finally spoke.

"…You're not normal, are you?"

Damian smirked, eyes still closed.

"Not even close."