Barely half a minute after the dragon landed, the one-horned demon Minotaur Zod had already flown to a spot a dozen or so meters above the still rattled group and was slowly descending.
"Get lost!"
"Everyone, get out of my way!"
"He's mine!!"
"Anyone who dares interfere, I'll tear them apart!!"
The one-horned Minotaur demon Zod pointed at Guts, who stood at the front of the group with one hand gripping his black greatsword, and roared. After driving off the flying Apostles who had rushed over hoping to claim a share—the airborne monsters of the War Demon Legion—he grinned savagely, slowly landed, and aimed the enormous curved blade in his hand at Guts.
"Black Swordsman!"
"Come on!"
"Since we didn't finish our fight last time, how about we continue it here today?"
"I can hardly wait to twist your head off!"
That was right!
Last time, at the Sword Grave, Zod would have killed the Black Swordsman right there if their master, Griffith, hadn't stopped them from fighting!
Back then, he'd been this close. Give him just another dozen seconds, and he would have finished the job.
But now, they'd successfully intercepted this group of fools who thought they could do whatever they wanted just because they were riding a dragon. More importantly, their master, Griffith, wasn't here, so Zod was in charge!
He was sure they wouldn't get away. He could enjoy a good fight and, in the end, cut off his opponent's head and take it back to claim his reward.
"..."
Guts neither refused nor agreed. He simply held his sword and silently watched his opponent.
He saw more flying Apostles spreading out across the sky and approaching the island in the middle of the lake in an encircling formation. He also saw the large group of