The world shook and groaned as Force Arts filled the skies. Supported by the mountains they were built upon, they wiped out Invalids in droves, and yet for every one they killed, there seemed to always be ten more lying in wait.

However, it wasn't the numbers that made the Dwarven Race so solemn. It was the idea that the powerhouses of the Invalids had still yet to take any action at all. They treated the lives of their fellow Invalids so casually and without the slightest care. They were more than willing to let them whittle down the strength of the opposition like moths to a flame. Ultimately, if you gathered enough of them up, even the most eternal of flames would be snuffed out.

By this point in the battle, after having been raging for an entire two months, armies of Mortal Races had been organized and deployed. There were even many Demi-God armies that had descended from the Demi-God Realms to help out.

However, in all of this, the two powers that had been shown to have links to Leonel were completely ignored, and by contrast, the Invalids seemed to focus on them all the more.

These two facts led to a situation where the Dwarven and Spiritual Race Bubbles that Leonel had once been to were both in the worst situations and seemed like they might be on the verge of collapsing at any time.

To make matters worse than that, they understood that even if they managed to survive by some miracle... what would be waiting for them on the other side.

Right now, the world was letting the Invalids deal with them. But what about when the world itself decided to turn their blades on them?

...

Deep in the Invalid army stood two Variant Invalids who wore black armor and seemed to breathe and exhale acidic black fog. They looked more ghoul than anything else, their eyes sunken and wrapped in a band of black. Their skin was incredibly pale, their posture was terrible, and they had a bony lankiness to them that made one uncomfortable to even stare at them for too long.

However, those familiar with this pair of commanders knew that even compared to the usual, their gloom now was on another level. This wasn't because of the deaths of their Invalids, they couldn't care less about such a thing. The problem was the news they had gotten from their headquarters...

Not only had their headquarters been found, but at some unknown point, their reserves had been massacred to the last man.

Somehow, in what felt like an overnight situation, over 90% of their armies had been snuffed out, including some of their most powerful war generals.

The Invalids had accumulated armies of trillions upon trillions in recent years, and they had always kept them well hidden, ready for the perfect time.

According to their original plan, they would only unleash these numbers after entering the God Realm, sacrificing a large number of them for the sake of claiming a true foothold.

But now... would that even be possible?

Of course, the core of their power was still hidden away in their headquarters. But now that it had been found, how much longer could this status quo remain?

They had been so close to forming a God Realm of Invalids, but now this had happened?

What was maybe the most infuriating was that all signs pointed to the fact that it could have only been Leonel Morales who did this.

They didn't understand how. They couldn't grasp how it could be possible for a Sixth Dimensional existence to wipe out so many powerhouses and do so in such a short time that they didn't even notice.

But when all else failed, the simplest answer was often the most correct one.

The fury the Invalids had for Leonel was on an entirely different level, and they had sent the most Invalids after him now.

But what they had yet to realize was that this army had already been wiped out, once again, by Leonel single-handedly.

And now... he wouldn't mind doing it again.

...

Leonel appeared in the Inbetween World, stepping out of the void with Bracken obediently standing to his back.

He observed the situation for a moment, feeling that the problems he had to deal with now were truly far too large and all-consuming.

Just ten years ago, he was worried about asking the girl he liked out and playing in a high school football game, wondering what going pro would feel like.

Now, he was standing above the universe, watching a world be besieged from all sides and basking in the fragmented reality of a shattering world order.

After finding his true self, locked away in his body and hidden beneath layers of fury and hurt, it all felt all the more surreal now than it ever had before.

He reached out with a hand and a spear appeared. He looked at it silently, not moving immediately.

This spear was one that he had created in a rage, a spear that carried the accumulated souls of hundreds of Fallen God Beasts. Just sitting there in his palm, even the Anarchic Force in the surroundings seemed to want to stay away from it, fearing what would happen if it got too close.

Tattoos began to appear across Leonel's body, his sweatpants gaining tufts of white fur and a halo appearing to his back. Golden red braces, rattling in a violent wind, appeared around his ankles and wrists, a necklace of blackened tiger teeth fluttering even more wildly around his neck.

He waved another hand and a heart appeared. It was a true heart, one presumably ripped out of the chest of a living, breathing creature. Even so, it continued to pump, every shallow shudder causing a ring of gold to ripple into the surroundings.

This heart was known as the Sylvan Heart, one of the most valuable treasures in the entire world... and an enormous taboo that couldn't be encroached upon lest you bring down the fury of the entire Sylvan God Race.