Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 654: Weight of Will [Part-2]

Fists clenched tight, Leon pressed his jaw shut hard.

He mumbled it under his breath - "Not enough."

Another swing.

The force made his knees give way.

A single knee touched the ground. Then he stayed there, still.

A heavy blade crashed downward, biting into the stone with more force. It left another long cut where it struck.

Kneeling there, Leon kept his balance on a single knee, grinding it against broken rock. His fingers stayed tight on the handle, gripping without pause. Stone split beneath him, cold and sharp under worn cloth. The weapon did not move, held firm by steady palms.

His chest heaved.

His vision blurred.

Salt stung his tongue instead of iron. His breath caught behind clenched teeth. Something sharp rode the backwash of every swallow.

Blood.

Bitten was the tongue he’d kept silent.

Leon laughed weakly.

A gasp without laughter. Yet heavy silence fills the gap.

"So... this is it?"

Vibrating all over, his hands trembled badly at that moment.

Uncontrolled.

His arms twitched.

Him halting - every gut feeling shrieked it. A silent alarm pulsed behind his ribs. Not thinking, just knowing. Freeze right there.

To rest.

Let go of the blade.

To lie down.

Foot by foot, Leon pushed up from the ground.

Failing first made success sweeter later on.

He tried once. It did not work.

Halfway up was as far as his second try managed.

Flying upward on attempt three, a growl ripped from his throat as his legs snapped tight beneath.

Up he rose, then darkness almost swallowed his sight.

He swayed.

Recovered.

Barely.

Now the weight of the blade pressed like stone. Heavy beyond sense, it hung in his grip.

His fingers shifted position on the handle.

Tiny movement.

Huge effort.

Fingers tight on the hilt, Leon raised the weapon once more.

Slower than before.

Much slower.

The sword rose.

Centimeter.

Centimeter.

Centimeter.

His elbows locked.

His shoulders screamed.

A small curve had formed along his back. The line of bone just a little off true.

Leon’s face contorted.

Fine drops fell from his chin.

Hush filled the air before his voice slipped through, low and urgent.

Foot by foot it climbed, until the steel stood level with his shoulder.

Leon inhaled.

And swung.

It didn’t hit as hard this time around.

Still heavy.

Still crushing.

But weaker.

Fury rose in his chest over that single thing.

"No."

The knife jerked upward in his grip.

Swing.

BOOM.

"No."

Swing.

BOOM.

Once steady, his strikes began to falter without warning. The rhythm slipped away like sand through fingers.

Lost rhythm.

Lost stability.

Yet Leon kept moving.

Wobbling took hold beneath him, each muscle trembling as if the ground had turned to liquid. Still, he stayed upright, though every step threatened to fold his knees. The shaking ran deep, worse than before, making balance seem impossible. Even breathing made it harder, a constant fight just to remain still.

He almost dropped more than once.

More than once, it was just his tight hold that kept the blade from slipping out. He stayed upright because his fingers refused to let go.

Fragments of breath rattled out of Leon, each one sharper than the last.

Each inhale burned.

Each exhale shook.

Filled tight, his muscles pressed outward like they might split open at any second.

A quiet pull built beneath the surface. Not far within, tension took shape. Underneath it all, a thin line stretched too far.

Not muscle.

Not bone.

Something else.

A deeper limit.

A barrier stood where he’d never pressed forward. Yet now it blocked his way like something new.

Leon felt it.

Recognized it.

Effort edges forward until it snaps. That moment - just before breaking - is where things fall apart. Not always loud. Sometimes quiet collapse follows pushing too far.

His hands screamed.

His arms begged.

Every step felt shaky beneath him.

Leon’s teeth ground together.

"Push," he whispered.

Sound cracked from his throat.

"Push more."

The blade rose once more in his grip.

Slower.

Sloppier.

A shake ran through the steel as it hung above the ground.

Fingers slipping, Leon felt his grip fade fast.

They were made to stand upright by him.

Fingers trembling, his arms jerked without control.

He swung.

A sharp edge started forward, then dropped suddenly after moving only a little. It never made it past the middle point.

Even then, it hit rock again.

Still cracked it.

Heavy as ever. Like carrying stone in the chest.

Footsteps skidded behind as the kick pushed him off balance.

A stumble began when his heel snagged a tilted slab.

He fell.

Hard.

Floor met his spine hard.

Out rushed the air from his chest. His breath vanished fast.

A sharp jerk almost ripped the blade away from him.

Over his shoulder he twisted, fingers tight around the hilt as if it were air in water. The weight pressed close, held firm against bone and breath.

There he stayed, eyes fixed on leaves that floated by.

Chest heaving.

Vision swimming.

Arms numb.

Legs twitching.

Stillness held him, just like that. A full pause stretched out before anything changed.

Frogs croaked where the stream slipped between stones.

Leaves whispered.

Birds chirped.

Life continued.

The clouds moved slow above him. A bird cut across the blue. Light fell on his face. Wind lifted the edges of his coat.

"...Tch."

Off the back he turned, shifting weight slow. One shoulder dipped into the mattress next. His body settled sideways without sound.

Planted one knee.

Slowly.

Painfully.

He stood.

Empty was how his legs seemed. They carried him forward, yet weightless, like air inside bone.

As if something slowly hollowed them out from within.

Footsteps scraped forward when the blade slipped through dust behind him.

Fingers shifted slowly as Leon adjusted his grip.

Lifted the blade.

Half the height it once reached, maybe less.

He stood there empty-handed, nothing more to give.

A silence hung around him as Leon looked. The object stayed still under his gaze.

He mumbled something about it being sufficient.

And swung.

The blade struck.

Weaker.

Slower.

But it struck.

Leon’s knees bent.

Did not collapse.

Upward he pushed the blade again.

Another swing.

Another impact.

Now every motion seemed worse than words could say.

No form.

No grace.

Willpower alone holds muscle to bone.

Leon’s vision dimmed.

Darkness slid in at the borders.

His ears rang.

Fingers trembled as the sharp tang hit his tongue once more.

It meant nothing to him.

Swing.

BOOM.

Swing.

BOOM.

His body was screaming.

His soul felt stretched thin.

Filling his lungs again, Leon let the air sit a moment before releasing it slowly.

Tried to lift.

They moved slow, his arms, like they didn’t want to obey.

A sliver of steel lifted into the air, just above the ground.

Stopped.

Leon snarled.

Held tight, each muscle went rigid across him.

Veins bulged.

Everything in front of him turned nearly black.

The sword rose.

Barely.

Leon swung.

Again, the blade hit the rock.

Then -

Footsteps.

Soft.

Measured.

Not loud.

Not rushed.

Approaching.

Leon froze.

A blade paused mid-motion, tilted slightly upward.

Muscles burned from the abrupt halt.

His head began to move, inch by inch. Slowly followed the turn, a quiet shift in direction.

Eyes narrowed.

Breath heavy.

Someone was coming.

Fingers clamped harder around it.

Still kept the blade up. The edge stayed high.

Did not speak.

Did not move.