The music became something beyond just its notes and its resonance. It painted the atmosphere itself, deciding the rhythm of Leonel's heart and plucking the strings of his emotion. It was almost like nothing else mattered but the sounds he was hearing, even what was truly before his eyes no longer mattered.

When the music stopped, Leonel sat in silence for a long while, unmoving. His blood boiled, rushing through his veins like flood dragons. The beating of his heart thrummed like the roar of beasts.

It took him several moments to calm and realize that the music he had just heard sounded nothing like a xylophone. It felt like an entire orchestra was roaring at him.

Strings, brass, wind and wood instruments. It was far fuller than a single instrument could possibly hope to replicate. He couldn't understand how such a thing had been replicated.

When he snapped out of his daze, his brows furrowed as he tried to understand.

"Are you confused?"

"Yes," Leonel replied without hesitation.

In return, he gained a mallet to the forehead. Only when he started rubbing his forehead again, did Montez begin to explain.

"When you create your own instrument, you can make it sound like whatever you want it to sound like. If I want it to sound like a xylophone, I simply strike."

DONG!

Montez struck simply, allowing the metal on mallet sound to resound.

it to sound like a piano,

of illusory silver bronze Earth Force thinned out, becoming

no different from the hammer of a piano landing,

a flute,

time, when Montez swung down, his

the hovering illusory Earth

your imagination. If I want you to hear a hundred different instruments with nothing more than a single

guessing the

in your strongest battle form, bringing out a pen

attainments, or

chuckled to himself as though he could already imagine Leonel failing. The sight of his nephew trying to strike the air with a mallet, only to be cut in half by a sword, seemed quite amusing to

was too much like his dad. If he

paint brush appeared after he finished laughing. Somehow, the air he

pen and the words of your heart guide the stroke of your spear. Your mallet and the music of your heart guides the core principle of your Absolute Domain. However, it

becoming sharper and sharper as he lowered it to the

sets a line. A dozen strokes sets a foundation. A hundred strokes sets a tone.

strokes forced these blades to take form,

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