When Leonel reappeared, he had already donned a silver armor from head to toe, a visor of silver-black blocking his abyssal gaze from the world.
Therin felt a pressure the likes of which he hadn't felt in countless years. How long had it been since he was forced into such a battle? He had long since stopped having to scratch and claw for his position in life, and even back when he still had to, his role had never been so violent or necessary.
The bloodlust coming from Leonel's body was practically palpable. It was as though the moment his gaze vanished, taking with it the distraction that froze the heart of the world, the tangible form of what had taken root in his chest was bared for all to see.
King's Might rolled off of him in waves, his very consciousness itself constricting the throats of those unlucky enough to lay eyes on him. And then, his spear swung down.
