Dimensional Descent

The Puppet Master froze and looked into the skies. But, by the time it wanted to move, it was already too late.

Its thoughts were maybe just as confusing as the situation itself.

"... A city?"

Before the stunned gazes of those watching on, the ground around Leonel and the Puppet Master glowed for just a moment.

A strong seal of space locked down the region, rendering the Puppet Master completely immobile. It could only stand in place, its eyes fixed onto the skies.

A city appeared, but it didn't fall. It hovered in the skies as though it too was locked in space.

The spatial fluctuations of the two cities, one above and one below, pushed and pulled against one another as though they were magnets, sealing an entire expanse of tens of kilometers.

Leonel coughed, his body moving with incomparable slowness. However, the fact he could move at all made Anared and the Puppet Master's eyes widen.

No matter how hard they pushed and pulled, they couldn't move a single inch. This situation made Vice's ability seem like nothing more than child's play.

As though this alone wasn't bad enough, those outside this two cities couldn't seem to approach either. It was like a massive barrier of space had completely locked the region down. Even Anared, who stood on the city walls, just a few meters from freedom, couldn't seem to cross the final steps.

However, it was only after one looked at Leonel that they realized something was off.

On Leonel's chest, a crude breast plate had appeared. In fact, one would be hard pressed to call it a breast plate at all.

It was incredibly thin and was filled with perforations as though it was chain mail rather than a true breast plate.

If one looked even closer, it would be possible to see that these perforations were actually intricate and delicate patterns. If it had to be described, it was like someone cut out all the veins of the human body and displayed it in its usual three dimensional structure.

If other Force Crafters had been there, they would have been shocked and awed by the spectacle. If it wasn't for the blood and grime ruining the image, this would have maybe been the most beautiful Craft they had ever laid their eyes upon.

Leonel pushed himself up to stand, his body quite weak. He even swayed, seemingly about to fall over any time now. From afar, he truly seemed to have reached the very end of his limits. Yet, he continued to walk, his spear scraping along the ground.

The grating sound of metal played through the silent city. In fact, the entire battlefield had come to a grinding halt, everyone's gaze completely focused on the two cities.

However, Leonel didn't seem to notice.

He made his way to the Puppet Master, his visage expressionless. Even seeing his own blood dripping from the latter's lips, he didn't even have the slightest reaction.

His right arm flexed, his spear beginning to slowly draw runes into the ground around the Puppet Master.

The Puppet Master struggled, its veins bulging along its neck. But, nothing it tried to do seemed to work.

Even though there was no effect on its ability at the moment... what use did that have against Leonel?

The runes completed and the Forcd Art lit up.

A scorching flame suddenly erupted around the Puppet Master.

The Variant wanted to scream, feeling its body being slowly cooked from the outside, in.

But, as though he couldn't see a thing, the tip of Leonel's spear lit up with another flame, lightly piercing into the Variant's body.

His movements were slow and deliberate, the muffled cries of the Variant freezing over the hearts of those who watched on.

Black smoke began to emit from Leonel's lips as though his inner organs were being charred. But, once again, he didn't seem to notice as he pressed into the Invalid's body with yet another scarlet flame.

From start to finish, Leonel didn't speak a single word. Even when the Variant Invalid had been burnt to ash, leaving nothing but a pile of black soot, he remained completely indifferent as though these matters had nothing to do with him.

Motes of light suddenly appeared above the pile of ash. They were so large that they far outstripped even Leonel's own body.

After a moment, they swept into him, giving the young man who seemed to stand at the center of the world an even more dazzling radiance.

With a flip of his palm, Leonel's spear vanished, a surfboard appearing to his feet before he slowly rose into the air.

With movements as nimble as he could muster with just a single arm, he brought Aina down from his back, a light smile gracing his features.

Aina buried her head into his chest. She had so many words she wanted to say, but none of them seemed to want to make themselves known. She simply held onto him with all her might, her small hands clawing at his exposed back.

Leonel used his one good remaining arm to pat her on the head, his heart filled with warmth and affection.

Leonel controlled his jet black surfboard, gliding to the edge of the City. Whether by accident, or intentional, he slowly passed over Anared's head.

Even now, the Heir couldn't move. Leonel could see the look of the Keafir family City Lord in the distance, a gaze that could very well kill. He could see the fear and horror coloring the gazes of those three women who stood upon the Keafir family city walls as well. However, a single cursory glance was all he spared them.

He looked down at Aina who was still buried in his chest before speaking to Anared who was straining to look up at him from below.

"There are some words that should never  be spoken. Because no matter what, you'll have to pay the consequences for them."

Heira's expression changed. Leonel's words were soft, but everyone seemed to hear them, just like everyone had heard Anared speak of killing Aina.

"Leonel!" Heira's words practically came out like a screech. "Be very careful with your next actions, there are some people you can't afford to provoke!"

Leonel continued to stroke Aina's hair as though he couldn't hear the shrill cries.

"You all like dropping cities, right?" Leonel replied softly.

Leonel glided out of the range of the two cities, standing high in the skies as he Towered over the masses.

Under the horrified gazes of the people of Terrain, the floating city began to descend, accelerating until the wind pressure alone seemed capable of ripping them apart.

Anared watched as the city fell upon his head, his indifferent expression finally giving way to despair in his final moments.

BANG!