A few minutes earlier…
Adam sat cross-legged in the middle of the battlement. Around him, thirty mind-controlled, unranked level-3 sirens stood in a loose ring. Their bodies formed a living barrier as he prepared to do something reckless for this current moment.
Manifest his spirit.
The battlefield noise dulled at the edges of his mind, and a memory surfaced, uninvited.
"A martial spirit is a vital tool," his instructor from his month of training at the dojo said, continuing, "Without it, we martial artists cannot use true techniques. Without it, we are nothing but food for the ever-encroaching monsters."
One of the trainees raised a hand.
"Instructor… where do martial spirits come from?"
The instructor looked at him for a long moment before answering.
"They are the egos of our minds."
"Made manifest through Existence gained from those you have slain."
"Shaped by the technique you comprehend."
"And limited only by the talent you possess."
