Dimensional Descent

Crackles of air shook around Leonel as he picked up his spear, stepping off of the wall and falling to the ground with what looked almost like a light brush with the soil.

A minor puff of dust rose up around his feet, but other than this, one would have thought that a feather had fallen from the skies.

Leonel exhaled a breath, trying to control his temper. But as he walked forward to the coming armies, he was finding it more and more difficult to do so.

Something rattled around inside of him, his body wanting to erupt. It was tempered by his own several controls and his insights for the future, but like a wild dog bucking against its chain, he could feel that it truly wanted to unleash.

The two armies came to a stop.

Vaelin and Ger’Ain stood at their helms, their eyes glowing with murderous intent as they locked onto Leonel...

And maybe for good reason.

Vaelin knew that Leonel had touched upon a taboo of the Sylvan Race, taking their Sylvan Hearts and using them for his own personal purposes as though they were truly trees to be lopped down for their lumber.

On the other side, Ger’Ain knew that one of his own had fallen at the hands of Leonel. Not only had he fallen, but Leonel had even gone as far as to turn him into a puppet. Any Race would be absolutely furious about this. Not a single one of them didn’t have protections and caution against the Fawkes for this precise reason.

But not only was Leonel a threat because he could do it, he was also a threat because he actually dared to.

When these two factors were put into the same person, they formed the perfect recipe for an existence that should be wiped out at all costs.

However...

The two men looked toward one another, the dangerous light in their eyes still flaring. They almost looked as though they wanted to take one another out first.

Each one was a prideful man in their own right. They wanted nothing more than to deal with Leonel on their own. Something like teaming up wasn’t on their mind in the slightest.

As expected, the fact that they had appeared here at the same time was nothing more than a ”coincidence.” One that was almost surely set up by the Regulator itself. Another flare of anger rose to Leonel’s mind before he forcefully pressed it down.

He could feel that these were remnants of his flagrant arrogance. He wasn’t just angry because of the danger this put him and his family in, but also that someone else was controlling his life to such an extent.

Every decision he made, and every attempt he began to try and rein in control of the situation ended up slipping out of his grasp and growing to become a new tool that was instead used to control him.

He absolutely hated it. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

Leonel gripped his fist so hard around his spear that the blade tip quivered.

He looked down at his once steady blade, realizing that he was truly losing control. This was unacceptable.

With a slow motion, he held his spear out, watching as the blade tip went from a vibrating metal to a steady statuesque mass that was unmoved by the aura spiraling into the skies and the swaying winds.

Leonel took a step forward, and then a quick second before he dashed forward. This fury...

He had to unleash it.

His body flickered, and he seemed to continuously accelerate, his body growing warm as the aches from the previous battles were suppressed by his adrenaline.

He appeared before Vaelin, striking out.

Vaelin frowned, his own arm shaking as a spear formed from his palm. He seemed to grow it out from his own smooth, wooden skin, his glowing brass orb eyes sharpening as he slashed down.

BANG!

His strike was swift and simple, but carried an eerie sharpness to it.

Leonel found that his blade was somehow even steadier than his own, but in a moment, he understood.

As steady as Leonel’s blade was when he was standing in silence, in battle, there were bound to be some quivers, not just due to his movement, but also the reverberating clashes with an enemy.

However, a true spearman could easily compensate for this, giving the illusion that the blade remained stable nonetheless.

Leonel had obviously long since mastered this, but at least in this respect of spear mastery, Vaelin was better....

And that was for no reason other than the fact his spear was literally grown from his body.

In terms of overall spear skill, no one could match Leonel. But in terms of spear control, it seemed that this Sylvan was in a tier all his own.

He could control the very wood of his spear itself as he fought. This was a level of precision that Leonel couldn’t match,

Leonel hadn’t realized this at first, and his fury was clouding his mind too much. This caused his attempt to parry the Sylvan to fail miserably.

The Sylvan’s blade suddenly changed inside position with his own, snaking from the outside of Leonel’s parry to the inner blade, reversing the parry and jetting Leonel’s spear off to the side instead.

Leonel found the blade appearing before his throat in an instant.

It was a level of countering he had simply never seen before. The Sylvan had actually reversed his parry into one of his own, deflecting Leonel’s blade to the side and still somehow keeping enough curve on his spear to attack in the same fluid motion.

For a moment, all Leonel could see was that spear tip and those brass orb eyes that looked as though they had calculated everything in advance.

Thoughts of things ending just like this, so easily, so swiftly, crossed his mind. He wondered how many opponents had died at his hands just like this...

The weight on his shoulders trembled.

Leonel’s gaze sharpened and he dropped a knee. The weight he carried around seemed to accelerate his fall downward and to the side. Veins popped across his neck

as he dodged, rolling out of the way.

And yet, there was still a spurt of blood that arched through the skies.

Leonel felt a sharp pain in his neck and trap as deep gashes appeared in both. His

artery was nearly cut, and he felt his right arm hang limply to the side as its

connection with his shoulder was nearly entirely severed.

Coughing up a mouthful of blood, Leonel continued to roll, sliding out of the way of a second strike before somersaulting to his feet.

Blood poured down a side of Leonel’s body in a rain.

The Sylvan stood over him, large and imposing. Whether it was Ger’Ain or Vaelin, the both of them were practically twice his height. It might have been even worse had they not been suppressed by the Regulator too.

And unlike him... There was a flicker of Spear Force on the end of Vaelin’s blade.

Leonel could feel it rampaging in his flesh, making it near impossible for him to stop

the bleeding in short order.

”This is all you have? And you dare to blaspheme the warriors of my race?” Vaelin’s

voice came out in an almost ancient cadence, as though he was several generations older than he truly was.

Leonel didn’t respond, slowly rising to his feet and touching the gash on his shoulder

and neck.

The wounds were so deep that even an entire finger couldn’t clog it up. His vision was already swimming, and it felt like he could collapse at any moment.

And yet, he had still forced himself to stand.

How many months had he been here already? Just two? It felt like so much more than

that...

”I’ll take your head here and then feed your corpse at the altar of our young. It’s the only way you can atone for your sins.”

Leonel looked up for the first time, meeting the gaze of the Sylvan.

He looked like a man who could already be dead. Blood coated his hands, an entire

side of his body was a shower of his own crimson, and his neck looked as though it had already been an eighth slashed open.

Practically speaking, for a Third Dimensional existence, he was already a walking

corpse.

But for some reason, Vaclin suddenly felt uncomfortable.

”You know,” Leonel began to speak, his voice coming out in a gurgle as blood spurted out from and into places that it shouldn’t. ”An Emperor like my grandfather really would be in perfect control of his temper. But I don’t know why I’m wasting my time. All that effort to try and control my emotions, and it’s just making me slower.

”Why bother?”

Leonel looked like he was genuinely asking Vaelin for answers.

”I’m no Emperor. I’m a King. And right now, you’re really pissing me off.”

Leonel’s temper flared.