PISS OFF
The Void Race was facing a unique problem of their own. They had too many geniuses that were worthy of being sent, but in this trying time, they couldn't afford to put all their eggs in one basket. If they were targeted for some reason and lost all of their geniuses, then it would be a loss that they couldn't swallow.
The fact that they had the highest chance to replace the Pluto wasn't lost on those in the world.Content © provided by .
So, they made a hard decision.
Their geniuses were separated into three Tiers for them. There were their Supreme Geniuses, existences that only appeared once a generation and dominated all the others. Of these, they had three, each one of which had dominated a generation of their own and fell into the proper window for entry into the Idol Battlefield.
Beneath these were their Classic Geniuses. There weren't more than ten to a generation. And then their Elites, of which there would be no more than a thousand or so a generation.
They chose to send the youngest of the Supreme Geniuses, three of the Classic Geniuses, and several hundred elites from across various generations.
As for why they sent the youngest of the Supreme Geniuses... there were two reasons.
The first was selfish. Because he was the youngest, he was also the one they had invested the least into and could afford to lose the most. Although... it would certainly hurt to lose him nonetheless. And the second was because he insisted.
Lui'Shae was Shan'Rae's elder brother. As for why he would insist on entering the battlefield, it was because he was sure that someone else would be there. And while he was there... there would be no Gervaise Fawkes to protect him.
Lui'Shae stood in a shroud of darkness, his body thrumming with power as a scythe blinked into and out of existence in his palm.
The world seemed to revolve around him as he stood larger than even a moon. With a swipe of a hand, he could wipe out an entire solar system if he so pleased.
There was nothing in this world that could stop him, and a mere Leonel Morales certainly wouldn't be able to do so.
To not only kill his sister but to turn her into a puppet for the remainder of her life...
He would never forgive this man.
And when he stepped out of the Idol Battlefield, he would bury the Ascension Empire with him.
This was his chance to overturn the situation of Existence.
The more powerful you grew, the slower your progression. He had already formed a Dharma, and it would take time before he affirmed his understanding and completed his Idol. But now...
A shortcut was waiting for him.
His revenge would just be the cherry on top.
With a step, he vanished as well.
The world seemed to all be making their decisions in droves, and the Minerva were certainly no different.
Though they tried to stop her, Minerva herself seemed to vanish in the night, a sword resting in her palm.
For some reason or another, the Spear and Bow Force wielders of Existence were particularly agitated.
They seemed to be split into two groups, the first of which was the very reason why there were so few of them entering.
The first group felt such an overwhelming fear that they couldn't even look at their weapons. Their Weapon Forces collapsed, and those that claimed to have Sovereignties even found their comprehensions shattering.
The second group, however... felt a burning desire erupt from the depths of their bones, a hunger that awakened from their bloodlines.
One after another, surging breakthroughs took place across Existence.
Until now, only the God Races seemed worthy of taking part. But as the Spear and Bow Force users of the world grew more agitated, those that met an unknown threshold found themselves uncontrollably shooting toward the skies.
The Cloud Race, the Dwarven Race, the Spiritual Race...
There were suddenly no exceptions at all, as though the entire world was waiting for the appearance of these people all along.
Their Forces surged by leaps and bounds and all of these Chosen formed Dharmas in an instant. As though all their accumulated foundations had burst forth, their auras skyrocketed and crowns appeared above their heads.
Among these was a member of a particularly infamous Race...
After the appearance of the Demoness and her actions, the Dream Asura had been forced into hiding, scattered across the world without a place to call home.
Because of their abilities, many were able to slink away into society without being detected by others. But there was an inevitable majority of them that were unceremoniously hunted down and crushed.
The population was at risk of becoming extinct, but their strongest pillar, the Demoness, was nowhere to be found.
Among these Dream Asura was a young man who sat in the depths of a pool of Anarchic Force, hiding away in an Inbetween world with a spear on his lap.
The spear pulsed with a Dark Gold light, a sort of Sovereignty the world had maybe never seen before.
He didn't seem to notice the changes around him at all. Instead, he parted his lips slightly.
"... I do not need your help.... piss off..."
The pulse of power coming from the Idol Battlefield was shattered apart by him, and his aura suddenly soared.
A darkness pervaded all around him as he slowly rose.
Anarchic Force liquid drizzled down his body and his violet scales, a spear as black as night hanging almost loosely from his fingers as his head appeared.
His wrist only flickered once and enemies all around him were shredded to pieces until there was
not a single one left.
This young man was known simply as Rylan. He had no last name; he was an orphan as far as he knew, and this name of his was given to him by a random old lady he had already forgotten the face
of.
"If I want my spear to improve, I need to find whoever is agitating it... and kill him!
However, if Leonel was here, this Rylan would seem to be a much different person to him. In fact, he would call him Uncle.
Uncle Montez.
With a step, Rylan vanished.