No Choice

Leonel's aura seemed to carry with it a towering, unsuppressable fury. The veins beneath his skin twitched wildly as he stood in silence, trying to rein in his temper. 

Plumes of black and dark violets rose and fell around him, his Dream Sovereign crown flickering with pulses of demonic light. 

Let alone Eamon, even the three Nomads felt shaken. Their own minds seemed to be corroding away under Leonel's might, and the world seemed to be slowly swaying toward shades of red. 

Somewhere deep inside, Leonel had always felt that it was possible. No matter what the world said, no matter what logic said, he had always felt like he was above it all. Even after he changed his Dream Force path, the truest core of his nature had never changed.