Dimensional Descent-Novel

Images of his uncle flashed in Leonel's mind. 

He had never seen his father struggle before. That man seemed to do everything with an incomparable ease, as though everything was in the palm of his hands. 

His uncle, however, had struggled twice before him. The first time when he tried to complete the painting of a spear and failed, and the second time was when he revealed to Leonel that beneath his golden armor, he was entirely drenched in sweat. 

Back then, Leonel could see the straining of his muscles, the every twitch of their individual fibers. He had felt that his uncle was at his very limits, and yet he put his golden armor back on as though nothing at all had happened. 

Leonel didn't know what was drying his uncle forward. Maybe it was revenge for Leonel's grandfather and his father, or maybe it was something that Leonel had no idea about. However whatever it was, Leonel knew that his uncle was working far harder everyday than he ever had before. 

Leonel only seemed to want to work hard when something caught his interest, but was that really being hard working? Anyone could focus on something that fascinated them, maybe he was only slightly special because of how long he could focus on it, but this didn't make him better than someone else, he was just lucky enough to have a mind capable of focusing like this. 

But once again, that wasn't will power… 

Leonel jumped forward again, his breathing haggard. He felt like he had just run a marathon, his heart threatening to leap out from his throat and his muscles pumped with so much adrenaline and lactic acid that they might just give out any time now. 

He was a person who was easily bored, nothing truly moved him. When you broke down everything into its logical components, maybe that was just the inevitable extreme you would reach, or maybe that was the end you come to when you had too much talent at your fingertips… or maybe it was a combination of both. 

Leonel knew these things about himself, but changing them wasn't exactly a matter of just thinking it, which was an ironic thing for him of all people to say considering the sheer control he had over his body. 

But much like his love of Aina, this part of his personality was so deeply ingrained that it felt difficult to weed out. 

Sometimes he felt like a lofty existence overlooking the entire universe, so lofty in fact that nothing was worth his attention, nothing was worth his interest.  Follow current s on ɴovᴇl_Firᴇ.ɴet

However, sometimes he would also feel a sort of unique agitation, an agitation that was usually linked to Aina in some shape or form, or his father in other ways. Only the two of them seemed capable of pulling in directions he never thought he would go. 

It was odd, because there were definitely other people that he loved. 

He loved his mother, he loved his brothers, even his grandmother had a piece of his heart. But for whatever reason, they weren't as solidly ingrained. Leonel actually wasn't sure if that was how everyone felt or if he was just uniquely psychotic. 

Regardless of what the answer was, he knew that he needed to change long ago, but shrugging off those feelings were impossible, and they only became more troublesome to get rid of whenever he did something else astounding. 

He had brought humanity's future out of a Zone when everyone else thought that such a thing was impossible. 

He toyed with the records of Void Palace like it wasn't a place the greatest geniuses of humanity gathered. 

He might have been defeated at the hands of the Fiend Class geniuses of that Zone, but weren't they also several Tiers above him? Now that he knew that Force Manipulation existed, what would stop him from crushing them beneath his feet in a few years? 

The worst part about these thoughts was that he wasn't wrong, they were perfectly correct and he was also right to be prideful about them, but even so… 

Leonel growled and jumped again, landing heavily before slipping and falling to one knee. 

At this point, the only thing keeping him going was pride. He didn't want to give up after traveling up such a pathetic distance. He felt more furious every time he even thought of giving up. What was wrong with him? Was he really so pathetic? Where had his backbone gone? 

It felt like all of his weaknesses were laid bare. 

By the time he made it to the 20th step, he could only gasp and heave on all fours. 

Pride… It was his greatest downfall. 

He had originally come to the Void Palace with such excitement, but the moment he felt disappointed by the geniuses he came across, he became bored once again, unwilling even to put in his full effort. 

Leonel clenched his jaw, pushing himself up. 

He grabbed the edge of the platform with a hand and pushed off both feet, propelling himself forward. 

BANG!

He barely caught the edge of the next ledge. The distance and height difference between the platforms was being wider and taller. 

He squeezed his lats, pulling himself up slowly and rolling onto the 37th step. 

His chest billowed into waves, the strength of his breathing almost causing cyclones in the air. 

"Pride…" he gasped. 

He pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling again before sliding into a running start. Since normal jumping wouldn't work anymore, he would run. 

"AH!"

Leonel unleashed a roar as he jumped, landing on the 38th step with a heavy roll. 

Since his will power was pitiful, he would accept that, embrace it even. 

He didn't need will power because he was so talented, he didn't need power because he was arrogant, because he was prideful. 

He wouldn't let this damned tablet slow his steps. 

Those with will power could endure. 

Those with pride could conquer. 

These steps would just be another conquest. 

Leonel landed heavily on the 50th step before pushing himself up to his feet, his gaze shimmering with a blinding, almost feral, light. 

"I chose my woman over the world. If even the weight of the world could not make me bow, what right do you have to do so?"

Leonel broke out into a sprint, his toes catching the side of the platform as he launched himself forward, barely catching the edge of the 51st step with his forearm.