Dimensional Descent

James grabbed his helmet with both hands, dropping to his knees in despair. At a time like this, Leonel could only sigh.

However, under the silence of the arena, a resounding boom of two clashing bodies sounded.

Leonel grimaced, feeling his already fractured ribs break cleanly as his vision was filled with sights of the moon above.

It was then a loud whistle blew through the silence.

"Unnecessary roughness, roughing the passer, number 21. Half the distance to the goal, still first down."

Leonel landed heavily on the ground, grasping at his chest with his eyes squinting in pain.

The rookie stood over him in shock. At first, he had let his frustration get the best of him. He had never for a moment thought that James would drop such an easy layup of a pass, so he unleashed everything he had on Leonel, knowing they would lose the game. Never did he think that his actions would give the Royal Blues another chance with zero seconds on the clock.

The medics rushed onto the field. Despite the Royal Blues gaining new life, the stadium still remained silent. The sight of Leonel writhing in pain made many send furious gazes toward the rookie and James.

"Bennett, get the hell off the field! Rook, you're in."

Coach Owen coldly benched his Five-Star prospect. He didn't know what was wrong with James today, but he was clearly in his own head too much. It was impossible to use him for this final play.

The medics quickly lifted Leonel's jersey, undoing the bandage wraps from the first half to reveal ghastly purple and green bruises. It was simply impossible for a bruise to spread so quickly. The only explanation was that Leonel had suffered this injury very early on in the game.

"Don't." Leonel grabbed the hand of the middle-aged male medic who tried to take his pads off. "There's just one play left, I got it."

Coach Owen who had rushed onto the field frowned deeply, his arms crossed over his well-built chest and his mustache billowing.

The team stood around Leonel's slowly rising figure, solemn expressions on their faces. They knew that everyone made mistakes, but at the moment, they were having a really hard time forgiving James.

"What are you all pouting for? An injury timeout doesn't last forever, let's do this. Line up!"

Seeing Leonel's resolute attitude, the medics and Coach Owen had no choice but to jog off the field under the silence of the crowd. In those moments, the heavy breathing of the players who stood on their last legs was all that remained hanging in the air.

Leonel's fiery gaze lit a fire under them all, filling them with a strength they didn't know they had.

On the sidelines, Conrad looked on with a gloomy expression. Victory had been in his grasp, yet it slipped away, just like that.

Leonel slapped his hands together, standing behind his offensive line as though he wasn't injured at all.

"Blue 80. BLUE 80. Down set, HUT!"

**

how they did it, but the guys managed to get their hands on a few dozen champaign bottles. Their wrist watches were probably beeping away with talks of

did on the final game winning play, it was probably best he didn't move

groaning, cap. You're

Leonel's O-lineman, Three-Star Center Milan Inga, slapped his shoulder without regard for his grimace. He swung back a flask of vodka, his massive fat covered

already promised I'd come. No need

hopping in the showers one

pretty certain that Aina wouldn't come, he still had to put his best foot forward just in case. Luckily, he had already prepared a decent outfit. It wasn't as

of the medics re-bandage

locker to see his coach half

"Coach, you're gonna get yourself fired going around

Owen tipped his flask up as though mockingly toasting

embarrassing. You get

after this time anyway, off to the bright lights of the NAFL. This old

program on Union Continent. Your salary is enough to retire now and live a life of luxury until you

another witty comeback waiting for Leonel. But this time, his response was

choosing

chose Royal Blue because he liked Coach Owen's straight forward personality. As for the first ranked Academy, they didn't have

that dead rat on your lip. If not for how fun it is to poke fun at it, I would have never come

uproariously, slapping Leonel's back even harder than

drinking that green vomit your old

pain,

it

ice to hear Coach Owen's last words. But, they were

dug through his locker to find his black bag. Pulling a familiar bottle of

Ascension Empire believed that while their technology advanced rapidly, the human condition lagged behind. So this unnamed division worked toward maximizing human potential with

creations. According to his Gene Assessment, he was slotted in to grow to six feet tall. But, after drinking this poison everyday, he superseded that by

on to work in this unnamed

what remained of the bottle, a familiar scorching pain seared Leonel's chest. But, at the very least, his aching ribs dulled down a

remaining. Though he could have used the 'Refresh' ability of his watch, he preferred taking a

out with a towel around his waist and one hanging loosely over his head. Slightly obscured with a pattern

the towel through his hair, wincing as he struggled to keep his arms

a pair of deep blue jeans, a skin-tight white

won't kill me too much if

backpack over his shoulder. But the moment he turned, his

are you moping around for?"