Five miles from Council Square, all the magic lamps here had gone out under the influence of the antimagic field. The distant lights made the area seem somewhat dim.
This did not affect Du Pont too much, but when he saw that black-purple sword shadow, his heart sank.
It was an exceedingly rare pact blade of shadow and curses.
In simpler terms, it could be called a hexblade.
"Hey, Mr. Kales, that's not a very friendly way to say hello." Du Pont decided to play dumb. With a twist of his wrist, he used his sword to block the other man's slender blade. "If you keep this up, I'm calling the guards."
The attacking senior was delighted. The other party really had not seen through him. He quietly activated his spell.
In an instant, a half-centimeter black-purple mark appeared on Du Pont's wrist, the same length as the twisted mark on Kales's hand. "Heh, you may be able to fool others, but not me. I have nothing to say to a Council lapdog like you!"
"Come on, if there's a problem, we should talk it out reasonably." Du Pont calmly dodged the dripping blade.
No, that was not water. It was thick shadow seeping from the blade, crawling like a living thing toward the point where the swords met, trying to swallow the other weapon. Yet it was affected by the light on the silver sword and could not consume it.
Kales was startled. He knew this guy's weapon was likely of very high quality, but a moment later, a trace of excitement appeared in his eyes instead.
What was the difference between such a fine sword falling into the hands of a magic apprentice who knew nothing about swords and a divine artifact gathering dust?
As long as he