Dimensional Descent

In a corner of a battlefield drowning in the scent of blood, a young man sat huddled, hugging a saber in one hand and a barely recognizable woman in the other.

Whenever he had time, he could only check on her like this. Within his heart, there was a constant weighted fear that seemed to drive its erratic beating. It was a fear that she might breathe her last at any moment, that their next seconds might be their last seconds together.

By some miracle, she had managed to last for this long, but the bleak future ahead made every moment that passed only grow more suffocating. It was like the laws of probability themselves were toying with his fate.

Every moment she survived should have been a happy event, and yet it was just a reminder that every following second only made it more likely.

It was times like this that he wished he was stronger, wished he was more like his cousin, more unrestrained, more powerful, more capable.

Half of his body tensed, the other half so gentle and unwilling to harm the woman in his arms that it split him into an odd dichotomy. Even so, he pushed so hard that his saber pierced into his flesh, tearing into him.

He didn't seem to notice. He already had so many wounds, what did one more mean? What did ten more mean?

'Weak. You're weak. He wouldn't have given up already. He would already have a plan, ten plans, a hundred plans. He would have already healed his woman. He would have already crushed his enemies.'

The voice of insecurity, inferiority, and rage bubbled within him. Every day, they seemed to get more and more difficult to rein in.

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. It was impossible to tell beneath all the mud, grime, and caked blood, but the searing heat felt more painful to him than even the saber blade from earlier.

He just wanted to be better, to be more capable. But every step he took felt lacking.

demeanor. But now the life of the woman he loved more than anything in this world was hanging on by a thread because

down on his tongue, hard, seemingly not caring even if he bit it off. What good

grandfather. But she had insisted on coming with

say what he really thought, what he really felt. This tongue of

needed

couldn't stay here for long; he would be found soon. Those beasts

of his body

and the battles raged on. He didn't know how long passed,

would check if she still lived. He would

was without a doubt

grandfather had informed him not to absorb any energy from corpses, and he had also warned him to be wary of any benefits that he might

had finally come across one of these benefits, even though it so very obviously suited

moment, he seemed

billowed out from within him as he raised his saber. He didn't care about anything else. He just wanted what was before him

a roadblock. He couldn't advance as fast as his cousin, he couldn't protect his woman, he couldn't

these roadblocks were even

was tired of