Dimensional Descent

Chapter 3207 A Father's Fury (2)

Leonel's words sounded ridiculous, especially when there was blood spurting out of his mouth and his neck like a fountain. It looked as though he would truly die at any time... even his skin was only becoming paler.

However, Leonel himself didn't seem to notice the state of his body at all... and neither could Vaelin for reasons he couldn't describe.

Leonel looked the same, and yet felt entirely different at the same time. The weight of his world descended from above and the Sylvan just felt... heavier.

Leonel exhaled a breath and a chilly fog came from his lips.

Then he took a step forward, thrusting out with his spear.

BANG!

Leonel's spear almost flew from his hands, the strength of the Sylvan being too much. But Vaelin was still forced to take a step back, being unable to follow up with a counter as fast as he would have usually liked to.

Vaelin's gaze flickered with surprise. Why was Leonel's spear so much heavier now? BANG! BANG! BANG!

The two crossed blows and exchanged combinations. For a moment, it looked as though neither were experts at all, their attacks feeling somewhat stiff and unpracticed.

However, the more they fought, the more furious their blows became, the more fluid their strikes looked until they suddenly reverted back to a bland, unsubstantial echo of what they had once been.

Vaelin felt his heart leaping up in shock every time this happened. For Leonel to make him feel so uncoordinated... was definitely on purpose.

Leonel was trying to find a counter to his great control, and that was also what made Vaclin realize something else shocking...This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Leonel's skill in the spear was far beyond his own, by a measure he couldn't even fathom.

He was easily three times stronger than Leonel, a gap that, to even experts, let alone mere mortals, was simply impossible to close.

And yet, Leonel's spear had not only magically become heavier, but his skill was able to bridge that gap.

Every time their strikes became uncoordinated, cold sweat would permeate the Sylvan's back. That was because he could catch sniffs of death.

But when their strikes became fluid again, he felt even more fear... that was because the danger you couldn't sense was the most shocking of them all.

Suddenly Vaelin pierced down from above, snaking through an opening and aiming right for Leonel's chest.

Leonel swayed to the side slightly, but while his spear was heavy, his body movements were lacking. As he lost larger and larger amounts of blood, his body function was obviously impaired. He was already injured before the battle even began, let alone

now.

However, even when Vaelin thought he would be able to tear through Leonel's body, his blade only nicked his side, slipping through almost too easily.

'Did he...'

Vaelin's eyes widened.

The only way his spear wouldn't meet much resistance was if he had slipped between Leonel's ribcage.

If that was what he was aiming for, he wouldn't be so surprised. With his control of his spear, he could split a grain of sand in two if he wanted.

The problem was that he was just aiming for Leonel's chest in general. The odds he would only hit skin was...

Nonsense.

CHII!

Vaelin was so concentrated on the opening that he didn't even realize what Leonel's spear was doing until he was almost too late.

A root extended from his foot and forcefully pulled him to the side, but a gash was still cut across his neck.

Vaelin hurriedly made distance between himself and Leonel, touching at his neck with a look of horror on his face.

Had he almost died?

Why did he feel that way?

The vitality of the Sylvans was hard to describe in a few words, even while suppressed like this. Unless Leonel could find and destroy his Sylvan Heart, he should be able to

recover from basically any other injury.

So why... why did he feel this way?

Fear, rage, and humiliation spilled out of Vaelin, but his brass orb eyes remained cool and almost coldly calculating.

Leonel stumbled, gasping for breath. His face had turned such a ghastly shade of pale

..

that he practically looked like a ghost. The only good news was that the blood was drying... but every time he moved too vigorously the wound would begin gushing again, causing him to lose even more blood.

If not for the fact he had strengthened his body somewhat, helping his recovery along, and had some of his wife's residual herbs still lingering in his bloodstream, death

would have truly been the only outcome for him.

Vaelin couldn't believe that this half-dead man had almost taken his life. However, he didn't charge forward in a rage.

He was a Sylvan. Not a brainless brute.

He looked over toward Ger'Ain.

"Do you want to kill him, or not?"

Ger'Ain sneered, his voice coming out in a rumbling cadence. "What is that supposed

to mean?"

Vaelin's gaze flickered and he came up with a plan.

The Pluto were too prideful to gang up on someone. But it would all depend on how you approached things.

"He's too pathetic. Let the armies kill him. Is this a warrior that's worth fighting in the first place?"

Ger'Ain's gaze flickered. Indeed. Seeing Leonel's weak state made him lose basically all interest. He didn't want to have such a victory at all. He wanted nothing to do with it,

quite frankly.

So long as Leonel died, he didn't care what else happened. There would be no pride in taking down this kind of opponent.

As for why Vaelin wanted to send in both their armies, he could guess that as well. Even if Leonel was on his last legs, he could probably take out a decent number. After Leonel was dealt with, they would almost certainly be at one another's necks, so this

was Vaclin's way of evening things out.

As for what happened afterward, that would be settled by them. It would have nothing

to do with Leonel.

"Fine" Ger'Ain said indifferently. "Go kill him."

The armies rumbled.

Leonel stood there in silence, gasping for breath as blood gushed out of him. He

almost looked like a white canvas painted red. Half his body was covered in the

crimson, while the other half was as pale as a sheet.

He coughed up a mouthful of blood, but his back remained straight, piercing toward

the skies above.

With a raise of his spear, the world fell into silence around him. He didn't hear the stomping feet or the roaring war cry.

Everything slowed, but it was hard to tell if he was truly so focused, or if it was because he was about to pass out.

All he knew was that his wife and child were behind him.

A flickering image seemed to appear to his back, and deep within his eyes, reflecting

across his glasses, he could see his own father's back.

Leonel took a step forward and clashed with the army.

His spear danced, ripping out through, severing limbs and puncturing hearts.

His blade slid through the gaps in rib cages, avoided the bone of limbs to tear through frail ligaments and tendons, even having such precision that it slipped between the disks of their spines while avoiding their armors at the same time.

There was a steadiness to his blade now that made it feel as though the world itself had said it should be, like the weight of the world was concentrated into its very

fabric.

He hardly moved at all, only taking steps from side to side from time to time to conserve what little energy he had left. But even when seemed like he should run out. of it, he dug into a deeper well, and then a deeper one than that.

His body began to overheat, and then from overheating, it became eerily cold. It was

just a normal day and the temperature was about at room temperature, and yet a frosty blue began to appear at the tips of Leonel's fingers and feet.

His body heat receded into his chest to protect his valuable organs and heart, but it

didn't have anything else left to give for everything else.

And yet, his blade still remained steady.

His arms seemed to move on their own, his body being pulled along by the strength of something beyond even himself.

The laws of the world continued to gather around him, the shackles the Regulator had on his Dream Force rattling and quaking as though they might shatter at any time.

Control.

Control.

Control.

That was true freedom,

SHIING! SHIING! SHIING!

Again. Again. Again.

His spear drilled through the neck of one warrior, twisting until it found the path of

least resistance out from the side of his throat.

He arched his spear out of that man's body and right through the gaps in another's armor, slipping right through their ribs and puncturing their heart.

With every kill, Leonel's presence seemed to become a larger and larger mountain.