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.

that truly soared after shedding the weakness of their former

for the people of the Nomads, they didn't care to force him either.

Wicked was Grimm. Wicked had never done anything impressive, but just looking at him Grimm felt that he at least had the look of a real

BOOM!

spun through the air

hard to even call it a

The liquid method writhed and wiggled through the air, coming out from his back, shoulders,

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

man. The Anarchic Force suddenly dispersed

BOOM!

it faded away, hundreds of Nomads had

the tendrils poked at the

filled the skies, turning the dark

forward, not swinging the trembling red,

died, unable to even fight back. He reaped without a care, shredding them apart

And then it happened.

liquid armor trembled and the dispersing

to Destruction.

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

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.