Dimensional Descent

Leonel released his arrow and it was as though the entire world was painted in black. He recalled the painting that he had seen thanks to Mo”Lexi.

He and everyone else had stood there, witnessing the tragic horror of war. The rivers of blood, the mountains of flesh. Everything seemed to be a reminder that life was too fleeting, that spending time on a battlefield wasn’t glorious, but rather left tragedy in one’s wake.

But there was a deeper level to this painting as well. It was one that told of determination.

It depicted the strewn-about corpses of more humans than Leonel could count. There were more dreams, more goals and aspirations, more hopes than he could ever hope to understand or fathom… all dyed in red.

There was no glory, no grand achievement waiting on the other end, there was just death and more death.

Leonel remembered how immature he had once been in the past. In that immature state, he wanted to change the world, to usher in a new order where even the weak could be protected.

As he grew strong and suffered himself, he forgot those dreams and aspirations. Even after he walked out of that shadow, he didn’t return to his former self.

He had seen too much. He had done too much. Experienced too much evil and been too evil himself.

However, that day he stood before the Spirituals’ Throne, he had felt something odd.

Every fiber of his being had wanted to wipe the Spirituals out down to their last man, woman, and child.

What right did they have to enjoy life while the Human Race was living on pins and needles? What right did they have to smile, to laugh, to experience joy, when it came at the cost of sacrificing everyone else?

He had wanted to uproot them all, to show them what true despair was, to force them to experience what his wife would have had their plans succeeded this time.

But in the end…

He chose not to do it.

The world was a very interesting place… on the one hand, the naivete of a child was looked down upon, but on another, the words of a child were the most honest thing in the world.

Deep inside, if not for the influence of his future self, Leonel would have become a man who hated bloodshed, and who, while he could enjoy battle, didn’t want to use it as a means to suppress those inferior to himself. What was the point?

He loved to win, not because of victory itself, but because of the satisfaction of outmaneuvering an opponent so much more powerful than himself. That was what made it fun, that was what fueled him.

And maybe, it was also because it was so impossible that he had once wanted to bring peace to the world.

Leonel had thought, for a long time, that that piece of him was forever gone, that maybe… that had never been him to begin with.

But now he knew different.

The words of a child were often the most honest… being naive was sometimes the most beautiful thing in the world, but it could also become a double-edged sword.

But today, he would allow the world to establish this dream once more. He would allow that childish heart of his to sprout.

Hearing the calls of horror that echoed from the Northern Star, he could see that it, too, didn’t want to die.

Seeing the sinister, twisting faces of the Four Great Families, he felt a bone-deep distaste for traitors. He could practically see the horrified gazes of the Fawkes of the path. He could see the dreams of an entire Race crushed by the greed of just a few.

And right now, he wanted to be the man that shouldered it all. The man who stood tall, gathered up the grievances of his people, and turned it onto the world.

The crown above his head flickered with gold, violet, and black. It grew larger and larger until it seemed as though his oppression would suffocate the world for all that it was worth.

There would be nothing that would stop him today… because he wouldn’t allow anything to stop him.

SHUUUU!

BANG!

The arrow cut through the world and Gods fell by the dozens. Their powers were mowed down, and without even a second to breathe, Leonel began to cast [Arise] again and again.

In what felt like a single blink of the eye, Shan’Rae had been considerably drained, and Leonel’s side had gone from barely under a dozen to just over a hundred.

But what was more fearsome than that was that Leonel’s crown was only growing larger. And when he spoke, the world listened.

His Summons were all brought forth wearing violet armor. This violet armor was not only a manifestation of Leonel’s King’s Might, it was what kept their souls in a solid state and capable of interacting with the world, and most importantly…

It was completely under Leonel’s control.

So when the armors were formed this time, they were linked by a mysterious Natural Force Art and the world’s energies thrummed around them.

Under the command of Leonel’s mind, they began to work together seamlessly. And just like that, the battlefield that had already been separated into countless armies gained yet another, all at the behest of a single young man.

When Leonel’s army had grown to 200, Shan’Rae finally collapsed.

“Farewell, my King!” She shouted out boldly as though she was afraid that the world wouldn’t know that she had once served Leonel. “Long live King Morales!”

The roar echoed across the battlefield, but Leonel seemed to have not heard it at all.

Sweat beaded down his forehead and a world-collapsing battle seemed to have shaken everything.

Leonel took a breath, his heart rate steadying into a calm rhythm. No matter how heavy the burden was, no matter how devastating the pain.

He would carry it.

He would be a King.