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."

to

been any sort of edge to his tone back then. But, asking such a question in context most definitely seem to be combative. Yet now,

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

seem to have forgotten the truth

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

our existence is in

The Slayer Legion.

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 and do

the fundamental law that rules us,

"Monet!"

Monet was shaken out

"Y-yes!"

history of the

too dangerous and were thus abandoned and shunned. It was

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

said

"Wrong."

former Supremes, forcing them to speak of the Slayer Legion's history, yet, of them could come up with an answer that could satisfy the old man. In fact, with every mistake,

this is the hogwash that's been taught?" Hutch looked toward his

was simply impossible to believe that a single

wool keeps the people warm. On our death beds, our blood quenches the people's thirst. After our death, our flesh keeps the

Legion 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