Leonel blinked, his brows furrowing. He hadn't put any power behind that. In fact, he had lifted his arm quite gently. However, the power behind it was completely unlike anything he had experienced before. That was easily two times more powerful than his most powerful spear strike, of course assuming that he didn't use any supplemental Forces and solely relied on his Spear Force. Despite this, Leonel wasn't happy with this. He suddenly realized the real reason his uncle was constraining him to paper and canvas like this. Even when his uncle played music, the blades of Spear Force had all been restrained and didn't even wake up Aina. And yet, he had hardly touched the paper, but he had already split the table in two and made the tower tremble. If it wasn't for the sturdy walls of this odd training room. He probably would have pierced through it as well. Leonel's eyes narrowed. He had forgotten something important. It wasn't just about embodying the word or the line of poetry, it was about concentrating that embodiment into the tip of a spear. It was about controlling it. Leonel's brow furrowed. How would he do that? Embodying forcefulness was easy, he could even use his Ability Index in tandem with his King's Might to change the foundation of his demeanor. He only listed everything he felt embodied forcefulness, a list of phrases, words, and even paragraphs, and then he tailored his King's Might to step into that sort of momentum. However, if he added the word control to that list, it would basically negate all of the other words he had put in, making the list he had created absolutely useless. What was the point of the list to begin with if he added such a contradictory word to it? How could you be forceful and controlled at the same time? Leonel fell into thought, his mind running in overdrive. Everything he thought of seemed to contradict itself in one way or another. 'Maybe it's about concentrating it?' Leonel shook his head. He thought that maybe the answer was to narrow the scope of the forcefulness. But, not only would that also be contradictory, it would probably only make the effect more exaggerated. If he had concentrated on forcefulness any more, he might have really cut through this room. 'Wait…' Leonel's pupils constricted, his heart skipping a beat. His uncle had said: "the pen and the words of your heart guide the stroke of your spear." When you were talking about the heart, the stroke of a spear or even a piece of poetry, the cadence and feel didn't remain the same throughout the entire time. Leonel's mind focused on one of the first things he had placed on the list: "unworried… No, not unworried, more like understanding the gravity and still not caring, it's a more subtle feeling than that." Leonel read that line in his mind again and again. Understanding and still not caring. That was the key. It wasn't about being forceful all the time. Control didn't mean the same thing in every context. In the case of forcefulness, a controlled forcefulness wasn't about being restrained in your forcefulness. Rather, it was about understanding and picking the right time to be forceful. Or, it was about grasping the full scope of the situation and directing your forcefulness toward what needed it. When Leonel thought to this point, his gaze began to glow again. That was the essence. Control manifested itself in different ways depending on what your goal was, the scope of the word was far beyond his initial bias. Leonel sat frozen, his pen hovering above the shattered table. Ink drizzled down, paper was flung in all directions, but he remained unmoving. This time, when his pen finally struck downward, it was as though he was writing on the air itself. His arm shifted and his wrist glided. Each forceful stroke was like a piercing spear toward the eyes of all those who saw it. If there was someone here to witness this moment now, while to Leonel, he could see it clearly, to them, the light would feel just as blinding as Montez's attempt at painting a spear. When Leonel's hand came to a stop, the ink hovered in the air, the SHIIIING sound of dancing blades resounding through the air. After a moment, the ink fell. But, when it touched the broken table, it tore through, leaving an imprint and searing into the wood as though Leonel had left a brand. It was very clearly a success, but Leonel's frown hadn't disappeared. It was completely unknown why, by all rights, he had performed excellently. At that moment, the door to the training room opened and Montez peeked his head in. The building had suddenly threatened to implode and he came to check what the hell had happened. Compared to the other training rooms, this was fairly low class. And, because he hadn't paid for Leonel to be here, the protective formations also weren't activated. Of course, he hadn't told Leonel any of this, thinking it would be funny when Leonel got kicked out. But, he ended up coming back before that. When he saw the word etched into the table, his brows shot up. But, whatever surprise he had felt was quickly concealed as Leonel turned toward him. Leonel's expression was a bit embarrassed, but Montez didn't hold back in the slightest. "Your handwriting is shit. Are you planning on creating squiggly spear arts?" Leonel's lip twitched, but there was nothing he could say in response. If he tried to control a spear like this, his attack would be full of holes, not to mention weak. Montez shut the door after tossing another table into the room. On the outside, though, his gaze was flickering. Three hours, it had been three hours. That he was certain of. 'It seems he has a Lineage Factor that helps him concentrate his will. His path into the Sixth Dimension will be a lot easier, then… That Fawkes family… There's too many secrets surrounding that grandfather of his.' Montez walked away slowly, his mind elsewhere. … Inside the room, Leonel had no idea what his uncle was thinking. Instead, he realized he needed to find a way to improve his actual calligraphy. Leonel's handwriting wasn't actually bad. In fact, after gaining his control Ability Index, it could be said to be near immaculate even though he practically never used it. The issue was that his minds were occupied by maintaining the proper frame for forcefulness, so he had to rely on himself for the art of his calligraphy. This meant that Leonel couldn't use his Ability Index as a cheat anymore, he had to actually get good at this. That left Leonel's heart trembling. Did that mean he actually had to learn how to paint too? Leonel didn't fear practically anything, but his face was ashen at this thought.