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.

was able to maintain his calm outward demeanor. But now the life of the woman he loved more than anything in this world was hanging on by a thread because of his weakness. It was no longer

it off. What good was the ability to speak if it

the others and stayed by the side of his grandfather. But she had insisted on coming with him, on being by his

thought, what he really felt. This

needed to

mind. He couldn't stay here for long; he would be found soon. Those beasts had strong noses and the scent of blood was

again and raising his saber. Not a single part of his body was without a wound, and yet the most crimson part

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

would fight. He would stop. He would check if she still lived.

that enticed him. It was without a doubt the aura of a saber, but when he approached, it wouldn't allow

not to absorb any energy from corpses, and he had also warned him to be

across one of these benefits, even though it so very

that 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

path seemed to come with a roadblock. He couldn't advance as fast as his

seemed to realize that none of these roadblocks were even caused by

was tired of