Dimensional Descent

Chapter 708: Craftsmen Duel (1)



Chapter 708: Craftsmen Duel (1)

Jac's laughter came to a grinding halt when he heard Leonel's words. For a moment, he thought he had heard wrong, but seeing the cold expression on the latter's face, he thought he had been sent to some parallel universe. 

A Fourth… No, this brat was actually in the Third Dimension and actually dared to talk to him in this way. It felt like he must have been living in some sort of matrix, or this was possibly some sort of great practical joke. But, where were the cameras?

He was stunned for a good long while, not knowing what to say in the slightest. 

It wasn't just him. Even Kaela and the others forgot to breathe. Although they all had a tacit understanding that it was Beinala who had screwed them all over, none of them actually dared to say anything. Even when Kaela was wronged by Beinala for so many years, she hadn't dared to do anything other than leave. But, even that took great courage. 

As for Arte? He felt like he was about to faint. 

Who knew how arrogant Higher Dimensional Beings were? They practically looked at those within lower states of being like they were ants, and they weren't wrong to. Every Dimension was a great watershed. Even though Leonel had experienced this with his body and mind, he couldn't be truly considered to have. 

In the simplest terms, Beinala who was in the Fifth Dimension should have been like a god to them. Yet, Leonel actually dared to say such words. 

"… What did you just say?"

"I don't think my words were unclear, Beinala. Others might see your smiling face and feel forced to ignore the atrocities you've committed, but I feel no need to. I don't have to kiss at your feet because in my eyes, what you can provide to me is worthless. My calling you an Elder is nothing more than respect for your being born earlier than I was. 

"According to my understanding, due to your haughtiness, you've never truly joined Valiant Heart. Instead, you a contracted representative brought over from a Crafting Guild. This only makes your coming here to try an enforce rules on behalf of the organization laughable. 

"However, since I still have some accounts to settle with you, I will play along. This is already the second time you've slandered my Crafts. I promise you, there won't be a third."

Leonel's temper flared. Rage he had been holding down for several weeks already boiled over. 

He gripped the quill in his hand. With swift movements, he removed his Crafter Gloves from his spatial ring and threw them to the ground at Beinala's feet. 

Jac looked on stunned. 

Of course, he understood the meaning of this gesture. He had never thought he would see such a thing here. Memories of years gone by swirled through his mind, his expression twisting to the point it became dark beyond recognition. 

A Duel of Crafters looked eerily similar to one of gentlemen. The issue was that the Crafting Gloves were meant to represent the blood, sweat and tears of the Crafter. But, the last time Leonel had used these gloves, he had been dissecting a beast's corpse. 

For trash like Beinala, he didn't deserve this kind of respect. 

Elder Beinala suddenly began to laugh. He threw his head back, his amiable smile fading to one of near madness. Who knew what kind of memory Leonel's actions had forced to resurface. But, what was clear was that he was wholly infuriated. 

"Good, good, good. An ant of the Third Dimension dares to challenge me. I, Jac Beinala, accept!"

Jac pulled out a shimmering badge from his spatial ring, slamming it toward the ground by Leonel's glove. 

The pressure of a Fifth Dimensional existence swept through the room. Without quarter to fight back, Arte fell to his knees, his face smashing against the ground not long after. As for the other youths who had already been sitting, their bodies crumpled. 

Leonel, however, stood. His foot lightly tapped against the ground, causing a subtle flash of light. In the next instant, Jac felt as though his pressure had fallen into an endless ocean. After a small rumble, the building stabilized. 

Cracks spread out from the outside, catching those watching off guard. But, what shocked them even more was that the BLACKSTAR emblem faded to reveal two men, one young and one old, facing off against one another. 

"Set the rules, Beinala." Leonel's voice coldly projected outward. 

At that moment, on the outside, Jac's wives were caught off guard. Seeing the badge and gloves on the ground, their expression changed wildly. 

Their faces warped. A Craftsmen Duel? How had this happened?

There was no way Beinala challenged Leonel, so that only left one other option. But, if that was the case… The expressions of the two wives became uglier. 

They were observing this from an outsider's perspective, so they were less hot blooded than Jac and could thus calmly analyze the situation. 

Strictly speaking, a Craftsmen Duel wasn't a common thing. In fact, it was strictly uncommon. That was because it was an extremely old relic of the Craftsmen community and was usually a tradition only carried out by the oldest of families and organizations. 

To even be aware of its existence was evidence of having a certain level of standing. 

For all these things to be true, and for Leonel to challenge Beinala regardless of the circumstances, meant that this matter wouldn't be so simple. 

The competition was overseen by Beinala's Crafter's Badge. Even if Leonel didn't have one, just one being present was enough. 

If Leonel stated that the reason for this duel was Jac's slander of his Craft and even won, the consequences would be disastrous. Even losing his Crafter's Badge wouldn't be an impossible outcome. 

How could they not know why Jac had rashly accepted such a thing. He was probably seeing red at the moment. If not for a challenge just like this one, how could he be in such a place without any hope of entering the Bronze Grade?

For a child to dare challenge him like this, how could he not be infuriated?! It was hard to tell if Beinala was even aware that his image was being projected out like this. 

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