Dimensional Descent Chapter 1755 Fury

Chapter 1755 Fury

Mighty auras surrounded Earth; The ocean tides rose like walls blocking out the skies; forests worth of trees swayed so violently that they threatened to be pulled up by the roots; and the earth shook and quaked; splintering; dividing and rippling like waves;

A shadow seemed to envelop the planet; The sheer number of s.h.i.+ps and vessels in the skies made it feel as though an eclipse had descended, stripping Earth of all of its light;

When these members of the Brazinger family appeared, the protective units of Earth reacted immediately; Several canons pointed into the sky as the air protection units took action first; Not long later, a strong surge of pressure soared upward, countering the presence of the Brazinger family almost immediately;

If Leonel had been here. he would have recognized these people as the members of the Slayer Legion; However. by now. they had already returned to their proper duty of being the s.h.i.+elds of the royal family;

At the helm, a middle-aged man with the aura of an old ruffian stood on the walls of a fort, a machete resting on his shoulder.

This middle-aged man was none other than Old Hutch. the only pseudo master figure Leonel had ever had in his life;

By now. Old Hutch didn't seem so old anymore. and his aura was even sharper and more violent than it ever had been before;

By his side. there was yet another old man that Leonel would have recognized. and that was his Coach Owen whose upper lip was still bristling with a grey mustache;

The duo looked infuriated with the world. but right now. they had every right to be; The number of promising youths that Earth had lost at the hands of these four families was far too many; What these two older men had in common was their love of watching the youth rise up. and yet they had to watch helplessly as they outlived some young men and women they had viewed almost like their own sons and daughters;

Old Hutch had lost count of the number of promising youths of the Slayer Legion that had fallen before him; He had promised himself that such a thing wouldn't happen again after the war against Terrain, and yet it all didn't matter in the slightest;

He was used to having the strength to turn the tides on his own. but he was born long before the Metamorphosis; The amount of talent he had was limited in comparison to the up and coming youths because he had to work against the tides of age for every step forward he took;

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Time and time again, the moniker of Hacker Hutch became no different from an ironic jab to the heart for him; What Hacker Hutch? Unless it meant that he stood idly by as his children were hacked to pieces, then maybe only then could he oh so proudly accept the name;

Coach Owen's mustache whipped about in the wind. his gaze red with fury.

Ever since Leonel had sent him back to Earth and saved him from the brink of death, he had been doing his best to raise up the contingent; He hadn't forgotten the tough ask Leonel had made of him, he believed in that young man to the point he had put his heart and soul into the task;

And yet he could only watch as his boys died one after another.

He had been coaching Leonel and the others since they could barely hold a football in their hands; He had watched them grow into men who could carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, only for them to be slaughtered one after another;

Even now. he could still remember the final grins on their faces as they breathed their last;

He could see the young Drake; Even after a decade, they still called that poor brat a rookie even though he was maybe more mature than them all;

All his life; Drake had had big shoes to fill; As Leonel's backup and the man fated to succeed Leonel; that was a weight he had carried with him; And yet; instead of s.h.i.+rking from the responsibility; he accepted it in silence;

His mark on the world seemed so small, and yet it was that small mark, that silence that made him so strong.

He could see Milan's face, that cheery young man who always swore to protect Leonel's front. He was the wall, the first line of defense, a young man who would dig in his heels rather than bend his back.

Arnold was a man who never showed any sort of emotion, never deviating from his baseline, but seeing his ball like a little boy when Milan breathed his life was a sound and sight that Coach Owen would never forget. Every time he recalled it, another piece of his heart would shatter.

pαпdα Йᴏνê|,сòМ He could see the face of Gil and Franco, that pair of perverts who always relentlessly b.u.t.t heads. He remembered their final moments, standing side by side like brothers, neither of them wanting to retreat from the side of the other. Even amidst all their arguments, their bond was maybe among the very strongest in the end.

He could see the face of Raj, that big lug who always had some witty to say. He was Leonel's blindside protector, a forever-wall, an immovable force. Even in his final moments, he stood tall and st.u.r.dy, a silly but sad grin plastered on his face.

He roared into the skies, lamenting only the fact that he didn't get the chance to build his harem before he breathed his last.

Every time Coach Owen thought of these memories, he wanted to roar into the skies, his fury rising like a tempest. However, when he saw what was in the skies, Coach Owen was so apoplectic with rage that his vision went entirely black, the city walls beneath his feet shattering.

Amidst the Brazingers, a young man with a group of eight lenses hovering over a single eye stepped forward. His face didn't seem to have any fury or rather on it. In fact, he seemed to be distracted by words and numbers flying across his lenses.

He stood on a platform of pure black that seemed fused together with black-silver sand, absentmindedly doing something before he seemed to realize where he was.

If Leonel was present, he would recognize this young man as Simeon, the very first true member of the Brazinger family he had ever met.

However, if Leonel had been present, he wouldn't have been looking at Simeon at all.

Rather, he would have been looking at the two young men who hovered beneath him, seemingly holding up his platform.

On one side, there was a large young man, standing at over seven feet tall and with a belly as round as a globe. His skin was a nice brown color, however his gaze seemed dull and lifeless.

On the other side was an una.s.suming young man of slim stature and somewhat handsome features. He seemed reserved and he would be difficult to pick out in a crowd, but his gaze was likewise dull and lifeless.

Anyone could see the large young man had been used to form that platform while the other young man was used to carry and control the platform. Together, they moved it smoothly and without issue, moving like a pair of obedient servants.

These two young men were none other than Raj and Drake.