Dimensional Descent

Leonel’s legs hung weakly in the air, his face slowly turning red as Lamorak’s hand clamped down on his throat. 

It felt as though his whole body was washed by pain. It was an endless torrent that rammed through his senses like a tsunami, crashing through his mind in a repetitive, infinite cycle. 

In his current state, lasting without oxygen for tens of minutes at a time, though difficult, wouldn’t be impossible. However, having one’s throat clamped down wasn’t just about oxygen, it was also about blood flow. 

Leonel felt his head becoming light, the pounding headache he had earned himself after his Soul Force ran dry was only getting worse. Yet, maybe in an odd twist of fate, he could just barely ignore because its level of pain was nothing compared to what was happening to the rest of his body. 

Lamorak became irrationally enraged, staring toward Leonel’s unwavering gaze. 

Whether it was consciously or subconsciously, he felt as though all of his actions were being judged. It was impossible to tell whether he knew he was in the wrong, but all that was important was that he didn’t like having to question himself in this way. 

A roar escaped his lips as he slammed Leonel into the already cracked walls. The result was Leonel’s already slipping consciousness swirling once more. 

Leonel found it difficult to tell which way was up and which way was down. The whole world seemed to swim. He only barely managed to hold on to two thoughts. 

One was the circulation method of [Dimensional Cleanse], and the second was the start and stop timing of this circulation. 

He knew it was the only way for him to survive. He just needed his Soul Force to recover. It seemed so close and yet so far at the same time. 

At some point, the pain began to numb his body. But, was this a good thing? Pain was a sign of life… so what was numbness a sign of?

Leonel clenched his jaw, weathering the storm of Lamorak’s rage. Just a little more, just a little more. 

Lamorak’s grip tightened around Leonel’s throat even more as though trying to twist his head off. However, he found his actions no different from trying to squeeze a thick metal pole. 

When he looked at Leonel’s body. Though his flesh was beaten and batted, along with his bones being broken in several places, it all seemed far too shallow for the punishment the Grand Knight had inflicted onto him. 

Any other person would have been beaten into a pile of mush by now, but why was Leonel still in one piece? Why was his neck so sturdy? Was he really made out of metal?

The more Lamorak thought, the more panicked he became. He had never run across something like this in his lifetime. To have someone allow him to go all out to kill them, yet to actually be unable to do so even after so much time had passed…

The more blows Lamorak landed, the more his panic set in and fused with his rage. He felt as though the longer this went on, the more dangerous his situation became. 

”Die! Die! DIE!”

Lamorak completely lost his composure. The calm Knight of the Round Table had somehow become a madman. 

It felt to him that as long as he could kill Leonel, then it would all be justified. Those judgmental eyes, he didn’t want to see them anymore, he didn’t want to have to face the consequences of his own choices. 

It was quite an ironic turn of events. 

When Lamorak first met Leonel, it was the latter who had lost his mind. Leonel had reacted inappropriately to the situation due to something influencing his mind. Maybe had he not reacted that way, things might have traveled down a different path. 

And now, it was Lamorak who had lost his cool. 

Leonel didn’t know how much pressure Lamorak had been under in these past few months. It was his suggestion that turned Camelot against Leonel. Though it didn’t seem like it on the surface, this affected the trust between him and King Arthur. 

Of course, when one was having internal struggles, they had to show a united front to others. But, internally, the struggles would continue. 

Lamorak could tell that the trust between him and King Arthur had broken. The man he had sworn to follow his whole life no longer looked at him the same. Not only had he alienated such a talent, but he had also been the one monitoring Leonel during his escape. 

He had to fix it. If he couldn’t kill Leonel, he would never be able to. 

”AGH!” 

Lamorak dragged Leonel’s face across the stone walls, throwing him with all his might. 

Big Buddha watched as Leonel’s body fell like a ragdoll beside him. A light, satisfied chuckle left his lips along with a steady drizzle of blood. He couldn’t even lift a finger to kill Leonel even though he was right before him. 

Judging by Lamorak’s struggles, even if he was in peak condition, killing Leonel would be too difficult. That said, that didn’t change the delight he felt. 

For him, dying for the Slayer Legion cause was only natural. He had prepared himself to die for the Slayer Legion long ago. Taking down a future enemy of their rebel army before his own death made everything worth it. He had something to raise his head and be proud about. 

”This is what… you deserve…”

Big Buddha wheezed out with the last of his strength. Even though his kneeling position wasn’t much different from Leonel who lay on the ground, he still stood above, loftily casting judgment he believed the latter deserved. 

At that moment, Lamorak had rushed over, raising his blunt mace above his head. A fiery qi shot around him, rising around his body and piercing toward the ceiling above. 

BANG! 

Lamorak didn’t pause, not even sparing a glance toward Big Buddha who had gotten sent flying beneath the air pressure of his strike. He rose his mace again, swinging down with all his might. 

BANG!

”HAHAHAHA!” 

Big Buddha slid down the wall he smashed against, his laughter resounding through the halls of the castle. Yes, it was all worth it. All of it was worth it. 

BANG!

Leonel’s body was like a small boat in a raging storm. The only thing he clung onto was shame. It wasn’t a shame he felt now, but rather one from months ago. 

Not again, never again. 

Even if he died here, it wouldn’t be due to lack of trying. 

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The surging winds around his black chained spear grew more resounding. They had already shifted violently beneath his choice during the first Elimination Round. But now, it was even more active as though trying to make its presence known. 

BANG!

Lamorak’s chest heaved. He had been giving it his everything. He had never regretted choosing a blunt weapon in his life. Yet, for maybe the first time he was. If only he had a sword, an ax, a blade of any sort. Would he be in this situation now?

It was quite ironic… just moments before, wasn’t Umred lamenting his choice of weapon too? Maybe… Just maybe… it had nothing to do with the weapon at all. 

Lamorak roared, his muscles bulging as he raised his blunt mace with two hands, his aura towering. 

From below, Leonel looked on, his blood having fused with the cracked ground around him. No matter what happened, he seemed to stare toward Lamorak endlessly. 

He didn’t say a word. His lips were splintered and cracked, yet he held them sealed. 

The slow rotation of his Two Stars had become much faster. As though pulling at chains that had held them down, the rotation only increased with each passing moment. 

BANG!