Dimensional Descent

In a few moments, Leonel could think of quite a few interpretations of his uncle's words, the most important and profound of which was the dichotomy between the presence of a clap of thunder, compared to the irony of the world's ignorance.

The clap of thunder was supposedly the subjects beating heart, and everyone could so clearly hear it, and yet they had no idea just what that represented.

Whatever hidden rage and fury that caused the skies to quake was still bottled away, hidden in the tip of the very pen before him.

It was a powerful imagery, and it made Leonel somewhat understand what his uncle was trying to say. The spear was a steady and controlled weapon, but that didn't mean that the intent behind it had to be. In fact, if the intent behind it was too shallow, then it also made the spear weak.

It was just like what his uncle had said about being a man. It was good if a man was willing to take on burdens and weigh down his shoulders. But, if he didn't have a good reason for doing so, if his resolve was weak and lacking, then his back would easily break.

Montez wanted Leonel's spear to be steady, swallowing up all its elegance and flare, and exploding it forth in a single strike.

"The calligraphy pen teaches the weight of words, but not just that. It teaches you how to embody the meaning and feel of those words into strokes. They're not just words, they are strikes of your spear."

Montez unfurled another sheet of paper.

"They can be FORCEFUL. They can be SUBTLE. They can be SWIFT. They can be GENTLE."

With every emphasized word, he wrote another, his strokes changing like the wind. Leonel's eyes glazed over, he could almost see the pen as a spear and the stance of his uncle, his style morphing on a whim and without the slightest pause.

The variations made what Leonel had learned from the primitive woman seem like a joke. He couldn't change like this, he lacked the proper sort of intent.

intent to my liking, I won't let you continue to do other things, at least not related to

to poetry?"

behind

"Words…?"

with Myghell. That cousin of his had the habit of speaking out single words

that was Myghell's Ability Index or something related to it, but then Myghell exposed his devour type Ability Index, so Leonel never got the answer he wanted. And, after that, so many things happened that he had forgotten to

Ah, I see. This

smiling. He suddenly wanted to learn a

this method of training the spear was self-created by your grandfather. I refined it somewhat after I matured and your father always ignored it, insisting on doing things his own way. He doesn't even use

stopping himself from going on

just because it is created by our family line, doesn't mean that others might not have thought of similar methods. This

though, my little nephew, seem to be

twitched.

but his mentality wasn't right to think of such a method on his

guessed that there was such a method. But, if it

Leonel's opinion, the beauty of a Force Art was far beyond poetry, painting or music. But, the

foundation of life and being. If Leonel wanted to give it life, it

picked up the calligraphy pen, ready to start. But, his uncle's palm stopped

give you other tasks, you'll probably end up slamming your head against a wall trying to get this

heavier than a monotonous task.

next thing I will show you is the power