Dimensional Descent

Hearing Hutch's words, those of the Slayer Legion were stunned. At first, they were too oppressed by Hutch's aura to say much of anything. But, in the next moment, a few shot up, livid expressions on their faces.

"You dare to rebel, Hutch?!" Catris roared, slamming his remaining hand onto the table beneath him.

Catris hadn't dared to confront Hutch before, but now he was most definitely in the right.

Wasn't the point of the Slayer Legion meant to be to fight against the oppressive rule of The Empire? The Ascension Empire hid beneath a guise of democracy, but when there would always be one, undeniable ruler, what kind of democracy was this? This world was simply a Monarchy with extra steps, there was nothing revolutionary about it.

Just how many actions had the Fawkes family unilaterally taken over the years with no one being powerful enough to stop them? This was exactly what they were trying to avoid, yet, Hutch was actually trying to make the Slayer Legion the exact thing they were fighting against?!

It was unforgivable!

"Silence."

A wave of Force surged through the room. Many felt as though their knees had gone weak, whatever thought of resisting they had had falling to negligible levels. Even now, they couldn't believe how large the difference between them and Hutch truly was.

"Brat, go sit down."

Hutch looked toward his grandson, a commanding tone booming from within his chest.

Elorin looked toward Hutch, a partially cautious and partially curious light in his eye. But, in the end, he smiled somewhat unexpectedly.

"Alright, grandpa."

too difficult to read Elorin. He really did seem like a kid trying his best to please his grandparent. But,

sort of edge to his tone back then. But, asking such a question in context most definitely seem to be combative. Yet now, Elorin pretended as though of that had

turned away from his grandson, looking back toward the crowd of Slayer Legion elites. By now, many of them had paled. Without Elorin's presence blocking Hutch, the aura they felt came like a rampaging tsunami, crashing into

forgotten the truth of our Slayer Legion,

built to be rebels, we weren't built to help the common people, we weren't built to sit here and scavenge for opportunities

truth of our existence is in our

Legion. Was

Hutch. The sound of crying blades sung through the air, sharpening beneath Hutch's aura as though it was their perfect whetstone. Not a single soul seemed capable of breathing, let alone

we sharpen our blades

that rules us, that rules

"Monet!"

Monet was shaken out of her fear-induced

"Y-yes!"

history of

We were once the spear of The Empire. However, we grew too dangerous and were thus abandoned and shunned. It was too difficult to control so many powerhouses

others heard this story, they would have been shocked beyond belief.

said next

"Wrong."

yet, of them could come up with an answer that could satisfy the old man. In fact, with

been taught?" Hutch looked toward his grandson. "What is the

simply impossible to believe that a single man could have such a

our death beds, our blood quenches the

to their souls. It was no longer about the voice that spoke them but entirely about the words themselves. It felt as though they had suddenly pulled their heads out from a vat of water, gasping for breath and finally seeing the world for what it truly was. The simple sentences tugged at