He suddenly spoke up, offering to act as the referee, and even declared that if Lybia intervened, he could take her down himself.
He was a man with short golden hair, bandages wrapped around both arms, a bare upper body, wheat-colored skin, and muscles as solid as steel.
When the surrounding passersby recognized him, cries of surprise rang out.
"Kid, I like your guts and your spirit. If you survive, how about joining our Fistfighter Guild? Just give them my name, Iskhan."
Seeing the man suddenly step in to join the fun, Lybia's expression turned grim.
This Iskhan was no ordinary figure. He was a genius of the Fistfighter Guild and the leading candidate to become its next chief.
The Fistfighter Guild was also one of the Ten Lords of the Dark Realm. Whether they were the human Ten Lords or those of other races, most people had no desire to provoke these madmen.
The people of the Fistfighter Guild had almost no interest in power, influence, or profit. They were simply a group of utterly pure battle maniacs.
They believed their fists and bodies were their strongest weapons. Though human bodies were inherently frail, they could train them until they were as hard as stone!
Battle was their pursuit and their destiny. Even if it cost them their lives, they would not hesitate.
Iskhan was the leading candidate for the next chief of the Fistfighter Guild. In terms of strength alone, she was no match for him.
"Iskhan, my little brother is only..."
Before Lybia could finish speaking, Iskhan had already thrown a punch at her.
As the punch, carrying a powerful gust of force, shot toward Lybia like the wind, the eleventh-ranked member of the Dark Knight Order only had time to raise her sword in defense.
The