Chapter 70: Cross And Straw [19] He Was No Shepherd But...

Even after multiple hours had passed in silence, nothing came, leaving Leonidas strangely disappointed.

He had anticipated a grand battle to occur, one that would shake the world and make big explosions, but alas, there was nothing.

With each passing hour, Leonidas became more and more exhausted, his mind weighing down as if being pressed by an invisible hand. The exhaustion was taking a toll on him, not only mentally but also physically.

Dark circles marred his face, a slight droopy shape underneath his eyes. His eyes themselves were glassy and distant, as if looking at the world from an entirely different view.

It felt like he had aged a thousand years in the span of a couple of hours, which was annoying to say the least.

What in god’s good name is going on?

Sighing, Leonidas stood, the feeling of something being wrong still clinging to him. It hadn’t gone away, not even for a single second, so he had mostly gotten used to his mind buzzing.

It was about time to wake Willow up...he had a feeling that something was about to go catastrophically wrong. He wanted to run away the first chance he got, but that would be the same as suicide.

Running without a direction, in a forest full of beasts of unfathomable strength... definitely not the best idea.

He glanced at Willow lying at his feet, a small smile on her face. She looked to be at peace. There was something blissful about sleeping, something that made you yearn for it.

Was it the fact that there were no problems while sleeping? Maybe the fact that dreams were—most of the time—an ideal version of reality.

Looking at Willow elicited another reaction from him, one far more intimate.

He recalled the description of the second ability of his Edict, [Wisdom Of The Lamb].

Inheritance Of The Dead: [Peace accepts all, yet not all accept it. Everyone who dies by your hand in peace will empower you.]

He hadn’t used it even once, but the description was clear enough to give him a general idea. But what it didn’t tell him was...how and what.

What did it empower and how?

Useless thinking about it, I suppose, unless I find live victims...

The thought was chilling and cruel, but he had resolved himself to do anything for power...because power was the only truth, the only right.

In a world like his, a world of magic and might, death and destruction, sorrow and blood, being weak was a sin. The weak constantly had their rights trampled upon, their hearts shattered with despair.

Leonidas had seen it happen many times, far too many.

He shook his head with a bitter sigh, expression downcast. What he was getting out of all of this was simple...there was peace present in all of them.

Death and destruction brought sorrow, yes, but after they had passed, peace would take root, no matter the duration.

And Leonidas knew, he knew from experience, that the rules of the Labyrinth depended solely on the imagination of the wielder.

What if...

What if death did not have to be defined by the end, but rather a short period of peace?

What if death could be something other than absolute, say...something like mental collapse, loss of identity, a coma?

Anything that induced losing yourself, could it not be considered death?

His eyes grew wide, a grin splitting across his lips. Leonidas crouched down beside Willow, pausing for a brief moment.

He hesitated, afraid. What if he couldn’t control his power and somehow ended up killing Willow, or worse still, condemning her to live like a cripple?

Leonidas had been close to killing himself after losing his arm; he had wanted to die. Losing a part of yourself wasn’t as pretty and clean as people thought.

Before he could lapse into another debate with himself, Leonidas stopped. There was no point in thinking about hypotheticals that may or may not exist.

And if thinking was the source of his problems.

Let’s stop thinking altogether.

His eyes suddenly grew hazy, almost like glass stained with mist, iris thinning.

His hand extended outwards, stopping just an inch over Willow’s face. He reached inwards, deep towards his imaginative world, building the use of his Edict.

There was a question to be asked...what would he imagine bringing someone to a peaceful end to be like?

Leonidas didn’t need to think for even a moment, the answer already at his fingertips, as if it had always belonged there.

He moved his hands through the black void, giving it color. A grassy plain spread beneath his feet, a cool breeze moving through the space.

Overhead, a bright sun sprawled into existence, casting warm rays of light that gave the space a brilliant golden glow.

A small river snaked through both ends of the space, disappearing off into the distance. Flowers of myriad shades bloomed across the field.

It was as if heaven had descended in Leonidas’s mind, a sight so beautiful it felt undeserved. He breathed a sigh of pure contentment, nearly forgetting himself in the quiet tranquility of the garden he had created.

Leonidas found himself wanting to name his imagination; it deserved as much.

Garden of Eden.

It was fitting, really. The Garden of Eden was said to have been created by God as the first sign of life, a resting place for wandering souls.

And Leonidas was going to use it to guide souls, albeit in a different way.

Tearing himself away from the surreal reality, Leonidas focused once more. He wasn’t yet done.

Slowly, something started to form in front of him. The wind picked up, and the ground rustled; the entire realm quaked, as if responding to his mood.

White mist swirled, forming a rough outline. A crimson mist poured from his body, combining with the white mist.

The two swirled into each other, twisting and turning, pooling together, and then collapsed to the ground.

The mist blocked his sight, but not sound.

"Baaa!"

The sound was sharp in the cool air, unmistakably belonging to an animal. As the mist cleared away, Leonidas found himself amazed at what he had created.

A sheep, reaching roughly around his knees, with fluffy fur as white as snow, and a thick blanket that covered every inch of the animal.

There was something mystical about it, a quality not belonging to farm animals. The sheep walked towards him, bleating as it moved.

"Baa. Baa. Baa."

He, the Son of Bloom, stood surprised at the creation he had given birth to. Wiping away the sweat from his brow, Leonidas smiled at the creature.

"Come here, you little bastard."

The sheep obliged and nuzzled around his legs, head butting him with eager joy. Leonidas chuckled and let the creature do as it pleased.

His thoughts traveled back to his Edict, [Wisdom Of The Lamb]

He had taken the name quite literally, made a lamb.

What better way to imagine peace than a shepherd?

Probably a lot, but at the moment, none came to his mind.

A bundle of grass appeared in Leonidas’s hand, which he held out in front of the lamb, whom he named...Lamb.

"Come, Lamb, tasty, tasty food. Look at the grass, doesn’t it look so amazing and tasty and delicious and all that."

He dangled the bundle of grass in front of Lamb, but the damned food didn’t budge. It just stood there, staring at him like he was the insane one.

"Oh, move you damned sacrifice!"

Alas, the stubborn bastard didn’t budge. Leonidas could try to force it to move, but that would take away the entire point. He was supposed to guide people into the embrace of peace, not force them.

He was a herald, not a bully.

Dammit. How can I get it to move?

Now, he was no shepherd or farm boy, but wasn’t an animal supposed to move in the direction of food?

Leonidas tried a couple of other things, mainly gently pushing Lamb, trying other types of food and grains, but nothing worked.

In the end, he just fell on his back, staring at the sun above. Currently, he was lamenting his existence...what use was he if he couldn’t get a single animal to move.

Was it he who was defective, or simply his Edict?

Wait a minute!

Leonidas knew he was a perfect existence, above any and everyone, but what about Art?

The part of himself that had Peace as a Source Element belonged to Art, so maybe...the fault lay in the Edict itself.

The more Leonidas thought about it, the more it made sense. How had he even doubted himself?

Such stupidity...I’m disappointed in myself.

He stood up with renewed vigor, eyes bright and shining. He felt like he had been reborn, mind sharp, body sharper.

Lamb walked over to him, and Leonidas sat on top of it, the milky fur soft under him.

So two options: either I need to practice more in order to use the Edict, or...the conditions to activate weren’t right.

Speaking of conditions...

Won’t Willow be awake by now?

"Oh damn..."