On the cliff at the deepest part of the Sanctuary graveyard, there was a recessed, hidden cave.
A shadowy path led to it. Green moss carpeted the stone walls, and purple vines twined about.
At the cave's deepest point it opened wide; the dome was open to the sky, flooding the cavern with sunlight.
A withered tree was rooted in the center of the burial ground. The gray bark of its trunk was split and wrinkled like snakeskin, and its bare branches hung upside down in midair like a monster's talons.
There were also many raised and sunken scars on the trunk that formed eyes, nose, and mouth, like a ghastly human face.
Beneath the dead tree stood four tombs built of white jade stone, the forest of headstones answering the old dead tree, creating a scene all its own.
All of these tombs had lavish gilded carvings, were festooned with flowers, and had been swept spotless, gleaming in the sunlight.
Each tombstone bore a name and identity.
First tomb: Hasgard, Taurus Gold Saint.
Second tomb: Kardia, Scorpio Gold Saint.
Third tomb: Regulus, Leo Gold Saint.
Fourth tomb: Manigoldo, Cancer Gold Saint.
These were the important Gold Saint graves Damian had unearthed since crossing over.
Their owners were Gold Saints of the previous Holy War more than two hundred years ago. Each had been a fierce warrior in life and, in pure combat power, stronger than the current Gold Saint of the same sign.
Each grave had yielded him Cosmo, attributes, and signature techniques unique to Gold Saints.
Damian had gathered the four graves together by relocating them, and in the sunlight they radiated a sacred air.
A bare-chested youth was beneath the dead tree, swinging his fists.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…
His fists carved afterimages in the air. Every move was wide-open yet lightning swift, wind hissing, murderous to behold.
His muscles bulged over his whole body like steel rebar, intertwined and knotted.
Bronze skin, under the sun, shone with a pale golden luster, his body like forged iron, planes and lines distinct.
Bead-sized drops of sweat, like hot oil, dotted his frame, then rolled down and spattered on the dry ground.
Damian suddenly drew back his fists, a volcano brewing inside him.
He took a deep breath; every muscle tensed. A pale golden Cosmo burst from his pores in tangible streams, gradually tinting his skin a faint gold.
With rhythmic breaths, his blood surged and boiled. On his skin turned faintly golden, a pale golden armor began to appear. As his muscles swelled, the armor's lines grew more distinct.
This was a special technique Damian had developed by refining his powerful Cosmo and body—the "Muscle Cloth."
In essence, the Muscle Cloth was him channeling the pure Cosmo hidden in his muscles to fortify his body's defense. At present, it had reached the point of being unharmed by blades, impervious to water and fire, even able to substitute for a Cloth.
It was a defensive finisher he created in order to hide, to stand in for a Cloth.
As a gravekeeper, he couldn't get a Cloth… so he had to find another way.
Boom, boom, boom…
Those two big pectorals turned crimson and rose and fell in great surges. A low rumble echoed from his chest.
It was the roar of racing blood.
Because his inner Cosmo was so strong, to hide it perfectly Damian simply sank it into his veins and muscles.
Because of that, his body was tempered and enhanced further.
Once the Muscle Cloth truly activated, his vital energy soared, his physical strength and defense climbed, and his Cosmo surged in turn.
As he drove his muscles to the limit, his bones crackled and popped; his muscles swelled anew; his height kept climbing; and he forced his blood and energy to a peak. Veins corded all over him, and a rolling heat like boiling magma poured off him, making the air sear all around.
The ethereal layer of Muscle Cloth on Damian grew clearer.
At last it took on the look of solid armor, layering and overlapping like golden dragon scales draped over his whole body, shedding a faint golden glow.
In that moment he was like a human brute-dragon clad in golden dragon scales. A dragon's might pulsed from him; his breath sounded like a draconic roar; his vital energy surged in waves, whipping up rolling heat.
He clenched a powerful fist and blasted it forward.
Boom!
The punch was fierce and swift. From more than ten meters away, its force alone pulverized a stone bench to dust.
Damian threw a few more punches in succession, each laden with destructive force, boring several gaping holes ahead like a blade through dry rot.
This was gang qi; unlike ordinary force, it was vast and domineering, infused with a terrifying Cosmo, and possessed shocking destructive power.
His body crackled again like frying beans; his bull-corded muscles swelled; the pale gold of his skin shone brighter.
A fierce Cosmo rippled from him, making the surrounding grasses and flowers sway and rustle.
"Plasma Lightspeed Punch!"
With a roar, the youth swung his fists.
Golden lightning exploded from his knuckles, forming a web of light in an instant.
But the flurry of blows actually hammered into his own body.
The Muscle Cloth flared with sparks and dazzles, yet did not break.
As his fists whipped and struck, the lightning grew brighter; the heavy blows pounded his Muscle Cloth at a rate of one hundred million punches per second, thudding dully.
Each arc of fist-light was like a sledgehammer slamming into the youth's Muscle Cloth, like pounding solid rock, scattering brilliant golden sparks, even rebounding many of the blows.
Rubble flew and dust billowed in the cavern, while the Muscle Cloth only showed faint cracks that began mending at once.
That meant the Muscle Cloth's defense had already neared, or even reached, Bronze Cloth hardness—but its recovery surpassed Bronze Cloths, even Gold Cloths.
Damian didn't push further. If he went all-out, he truly worried the cave might collapse. Getting himself buried didn't matter, but these four graves were his treasures.
"Muscle eruption, gang qi forming armor, Cloth upon the body… this Muscle Cloth is barely good enough."
He sighed softly.
This brand-new art was self-created and still being perfected.
The Muscle Cloth did not yet have Cloth-like defense as he'd envisioned. It was, after all, a manifestation of powerful Cosmo, not the equal of the Cloths passed down from the mythic age.
If perfected, then with armor-like gang qi alone he could shrug off most attacks. His flesh would be indestructible through myriad calamities; with pure force he could crush mountains and sever peaks; and his recovery would be formidable.
Of course, that was only in theory. For now he had achieved half: upon activation, defense rose, and strength, constitution, and speed all surged.
To truly become impervious to myriad arts, to sweep all before him, to possess a body invincible—and match a Gold Cloth's capability—he needed an even mightier Cosmo and a fuller refinement of the Muscle Cloth.
All this was because he didn't have a Cloth. Where was a gravekeeper supposed to get a limited-edition Cloth to wear?
For now, it would do. Later he'd find a way to get a Gold Cloth.
Caw, caw, caw…
A chorus of crows sounded.
Number One appeared above the cavern mouth, with several smaller crows in tow.
All of them had shiny metal fragments clamped in their beaks.
They obediently landed, dropped the fragments onto a pile of glittering Gold Cloth pieces, then flew off again.
This was the order Damian had given the crows: collect "metal fragments."
The crows were highly efficient. They'd picked up a fair few Cloth fragments lately, and along with the Gold Cloth tomb he'd found before, he now had enough material to just barely forge a set of Gold Cloth.
"Muscle Cloth, plus the Cosmos and finishers from four Gold Saints, put my actual combat power no lower than most Gold Saints'."
"Even if the Holy War starts early, pure bodily defense and Cosmo alone give me the power to protect myself. So long as I don't run into something truly fearsome, or get surrounded, I'm invincible."
"And if I add a true Gold Cloth on top of that, so much the better."
"Looks like forging a Gold Cloth needs to go on the schedule."
Hands clasped behind his back, Damian suddenly drew in his Cosmo. The armor-like dragon scales on his body vanished; his skin and muscles returned to normal; the raging force in the cavern dispersed.
Right. The Muscle Cloth was strong, but still far inferior to a Gold Cloth. Forging a Gold Cloth was imperative.
The problem was—where was he going to learn the art of forging Cloths?
Should he sneak Shion's body into the graveyard?
Dong, dong, dong…
Distant chimes broke Damian's thoughts.
The bells were ringing—the Cloth battles had begun!
He had to witness with his own eyes how Cassios pummeled Seiya.
Damian's figure blurred and vanished from the cave.