"Those things on you should be creations passed down from the Ancient Wizard Civilization, right?"
"Did you get them from ruins?" Gray Mist narrowed his eyes at Richard. "If I'm not mistaken, those things can provide you with a huge amount of energy and enhance your strength. That really is impressive—ordinary people would be lucky to obtain even one, yet you alone have a full four! It seems you truly are fortunate."
"Perhaps it isn't just luck," Richard said.
"Whatever." Gray Mist's gaze sharpened. "Whether you're lucky or not, you're nothing more than a minor nuisance to me. I refuse to believe your defense can't be broken. I refuse to believe you can kill me again."
Whoosh!
Gray Mist raised the God of Death Scythe and slashed down again, sweeping it horizontally into the Air Wall before Richard.
A force even greater than before erupted, and the Air Wall shoved Richard backward. He was pushed a full four or five meters before stopping.
Before Richard could steady himself, Gray Mist dragged the God of Death Scythe behind him and rushed after him with a howl, slashing again and again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
One, two, three...
Four, five, six...
He swung so quickly that even the God of Death Scythe blurred. From afar, it looked as though one black shadow after another was crashing into the Air Wall around Richard. The Air Wall rippled more and more violently, continuously forcing Richard backward.
After an unknown number of strikes, perhaps dozens, the Air Wall had turned a mottled white. Its surface was uneven, and it looked as though it had reached the limit of what it could withstand.
Holding the God of Death Scythe, Gray Mist sneered and swung it down again with all his strength.
Rip!
The Air Wall was split