Dimensional Descent

Leonel and Aina entered the Inbetween World and shot off in two different directions, Aina moving in a blur of black lightning and Leonel gliding like a silvery bronze streak through the air.

...

"Control yourselves!" a voice barked.

Compared to the Nomads who were usually quite tall, lanky, and willowy, this man was a tank. He wore nothing but a pair of loose linen pants along with loose wrapping around his forehead and head, only leaving space for the Ethereal Glabella that shone through.

His two extra pairs of floating hands clamped around his thick forearms as he crossed his arms. His roar was capable of ripping out the souls of the soldiers trembling with agitation before him.

The disdain in his fiery gaze was thick. Seeing his mighty Nomad Race react like this in the face of almost certain death filled him with disgust.

They were the Nomad Race; their adaptability was second to none. They were designed to be placed into a crucible and come out the other side even stronger than before.

They shouldn't shy away from this sort of trial by fire; they should be willing to face off against the dangers instead. And yet...

Grimm's gaze shifted and landed on a particular young man. Amidst the panicked and shifty gazes, he was one of the few who managed to keep their wits about them.

If Leonel was here, or if Rhangyl hadn't died, they would recognize this young man quite easily. He was none other than Wicked Rhismet, the Nomad young the two had come across during the selection.

It seemed that compared to Rhangyl, Wicked was less lucky, ending up in a weaker world. However, his strength had likewise increased by leaps and bounds the moment he stepped foot into a Complete World.

truly soared after shedding the weakness of

made the choice not to participate in the Gathering of Kingdoms. As for the people of the Nomads, they didn't care to force him either. In

a good impression of Wicked was Grimm. Wicked had never done anything

BOOM!

abruptly and with the rage of a descending storm. Anarchic Force spun through the air wildly as a

hard to even

a humanoid that seemed wrapped in silvery-bronze metallic liquid. The liquid method writhed and wiggled through the air, coming out from his back, shoulders, arms,

tightly, leaving almost nothing but his crotch to the imagination. It was as though rather than wearing this

tendrils suddenly poked at the air before the young man. The Anarchic

BOOM!

By the time it faded away, hundreds of Nomads had died, leaving not

writhed again and the tendrils poked at the

circles filled the skies, turning the dark and gloomy

continued to walk forward, not swinging the trembling red, gold, and silver spear in his hands

hundreds died, unable to even fight back. He reaped without a care, shredding them apart as though their lives were worth nothing but

And then it happened.

trembled and the dispersing Life Force of the dead Nomads

to Destruction.

Life Force, as though fueled by the Anarchic Force in the surroundings, suddenly roared out and expanded. The very

eyes seemed ready to pop out of their sockets. The man's movements were far too fast and only a split moment had passed. He didn't even have the time to respond before what felt like half

"BASTARD!" He roared.