Chapter 153 Chaos on The Island!
Crisga Jamon's Island: Base Camp
As chaos ensues on the island as Ver and Rint blast off rounds after rounds from their pistols as they maneuver about taking out soldiers one after the other. Blasting back at the two wild gun wielding gents, a solider with neon colored hair says to one of his subordinates stationed right next to him with his face contorted in anger and confusion, WHO IN THE FLYING FUCK ARE THESE FUCKERS?!! Reloading with steady hands and sweat dripping down all over his face, responding back in a panicked and also perplexed tone, a slightly kind of fat soldier says, your guess is as good as mine! But all I gather from this crazy shit happening right now is that these guys are strong as shit! Just the two of them have already folded half of our men since they got here!
Watching Ver and Rint make light work of his comrades, gritting his teeth with unfiltered rage as he sees the slaughter fest rolling, squeezing his pistol in his left hand, the neon haired soldier says, FUCK! You're not wrong on them being forces! Looks like we have no choice but to alert Mr. Jamon!
Turning his sight away from the battlefield to look at his neon haired brother in arms with fear shown on his fluffy face, opening his trap to comment back with worry pinballing out of his throat, the fat soldier says, Whoa! Hold on isn't that a little to rash! You know Mr. Jamon likes to take his long nap throughout the day!
With his scowl of pure frustration stamped on his Visage as he glares down at the dirt under his boots, the neon haired soldier says in a rough and heated voice, what other choice do we have?! If we don't grab our superior Mr. Jamon, will be wiped out in no time!
No, you won't. I'll take care of the two threats that dare enter our camp. Startled at hearing the mysterious voice coming from behind them, twisting their necks back with urgency, the two soldiers loom their eyes on a man standing a couple steps away from them, stepping forward with light and calm footsteps as he gazes at the two-awe stricken men with a bland and deadpan expression plastered on his mug, with his skin as white as a ghost looking translucent in the mid-day light, short like a gnome on a nicely cut lawn, with his wild unkempt blue and light green hair blowing in the wind, the small statured man says, we don't need to wake Mr. Jamon, I first ranked captain Zel Dapra will shoot these pest dead, so compose yourselves men.
End of Chapter 153