Dimensional Descent

Leonel felt his skin prickle, his palms becoming sweaty. The hairs on his body stood on end, raising like needles across his skin, 

In his life, he had never been in such a dangerous situation. The eyes of over 200 elites locked onto him, not a single one making a move. Even the other star point owners were completely ignored. 

This was just how human nature was. The process of group think, the oppression of the masses. Once a few had locked onto Leonel, not moving an inch, others followed suit. Soon, even the slowest among them had come to realize the truths behind this matter. By then, they were no longer just following the leads of others around him, but had begun thinking about how they could gain advantages for themselves. 

Leonel felt stifled to the point his knees trembled slightly. He tried to steady his grip on his bow, doing his best to calm the beating of his heart. 

It had been a long time since Leonel felt like this. After the first few weeks of his time in the Mayan Tomb, he had begun to slowly temper his battle will and heart. 

To now, he had fought in many battles and been on the frontline for many of them. However, today was the greatest pressure he had ever faced. 

Beads of sweat poured down his brow and his breathing hitched. His inability to control himself made him feel as though he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. 

The suppression continued. It was as though those around Leonel wouldn’t stop until he completely collapsed beneath their might. 

Facing the combined pressure of over 200 Demon Lord level and higher individuals was too much for any one person to take. Even an individual on the level of King Arthur or Modred would feel weak at such a moment. 

In the distance, King Arthur’s lip curled into a cold smile. 

’Where is all your previous arrogance?’

To now, he had swallowed several grievances due to Leonel. Seeing a brat who thought too much of himself in such a situation gave him untold satisfaction. 

Leonel’s blood slowed and his bow seemed to become heavier and heavier with each passing moment. The silence alone was weighing on his mind as though intent on making him go mad. 

A numbing sensation spread throughout his body and the hitching in his breath only seemed to continue. Soon, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe at all, as though there wasn’t enough air in the world to satiate his lungs. 

Leonel had never felt such a way in his entire life.

The truth was that he had always been a daring individual. How could he not be? He used to sky dive off of his Paradise Island onto the skyscrapers of Earth’s surface. If that wasn’t daring, then what was?

That was who he was. Daring, confident… He was a man who always had great belief in his own ability even if that wasn’t shown outright as blatant arrogance. 

Even when it came to the Mayan Tomb, just how many could put down their fear and enter that unknown world on their own? Just how many people would have waited for the others to wake up first? Or cower in fear after running into their first battle?

Though Leonel’s actions back then seemed stained by his unwillingness to kill, beneath the first and most obvious layer, there was a hidden depth of courage and bravery. 

But it felt as though all of that was crumbling down now. 

It was sudden and abrupt. It came without warning and without foreshadowing. These were just the way things in life worked. But at the same time, it represented yet another one of the myriad of choices one had to make along their path. 

’Is this where I’ll die?’

Leonel had this same thought for the third time in his life. 

The first was when the sacrificial virgin of the Mayan Tomb had her hands wrapped around his neck. The second was during his battle with Lamorak who had eyes on him even now. And the third was now…

The first time, he accepted death. It was a shame that still rested on his shoulders, one he still had yet to face himself. 

The second time he was unwilling, but to this day, he still had no real idea how he managed to survive. To take credit for such a thing was beneath him. Ultimately… he had just been lucky. 

And now this third time? Would he fail himself again? Was that the choice he wanted to make?

Leonel’s slipping grip on his bow tightened. 

He was unwilling. 

Leonel suddenly raised his head up and shouted. The sound he made wasn’t as coherent as words nor as powerful as a roar. It was as though he was venting something within his chest, pushing it out from himself until it had nothing to do with him any longer. 

The sudden noise in an otherwise deathly silent atmosphere left many stunned. By the time Leonel had closed his mouth once more and leveled his gaze to meet those around him, the deathly calm of his gaze had returned. 

Persistence. 

He didn’t feel ashamed for having felt fear, but he most definitely would had he allowed it to rule him. 

A halo of bronze shone atop Leonel’s head. However, at this moment, it felt as though the violet hue was several levels more powerful than it had been in the past. Even without the rest of Leonel’s Runes activated, his eyes became a deep violet, his hair fluttering wildly beneath his stabilized aura. 

At that moment, an oppressive might gushed from Leonel’s body. His focus reached unprecedented levels and his will stood tall and firm. Though he didn’t realize it then, the chains of his black spear began to clang wildly as though it too was standing beneath the mighty winds of his aura.

When his mind had calmed, he felt like a fool. This wasn’t a battle to the death nor did he have to kill all of these people before him. 

Even if they all wanted to kill him, so what? All he had to do was take down nine more… As long as nine of them died beneath his hand or the hand of others, he would survive. 

Leonel pulled an arrow from his quiver, his aura steadily climbing with each moment of silence. 

He could still feel the pressure weighing down on his shoulders. How could he not? These were all existences he would have to go all out to battle even if it was just one on one, let alone when there were so many. 

However, to the current him, the amount of pressure no longer mattered. His arrow would be the blade that cut through it all. 

He didn’t need to breathe a word. His demeanor said it all. 

Come.