Since that was the case, Blanca vanished once more.
A mournful wail from the Desolate Horn suddenly rang out over the arena.
Woooooo...
Deep and desolate, it carried the sorrow of ancient times.
The sound passed through the light barrier and reached the stands. Someone shuddered and instinctively clutched their clothes tighter.
Blanca's form changed drastically, her fair hands transforming into some inexplicable kind of claw.
Her figure flickered as she approached Roland in an extremely Eerie manner.
Under the Desolate Horn's call, Roland finally realized that something was wrong.
It was as though he had remembered something, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to calm down, but he simply could not do it.
The horn had stirred the fear in his heart. That ancient terror erupted from within him, impossible to suppress no matter what he did.
Even his body was afraid.
Roland forced himself to calm down, but it was useless. His hands were shaking too, and he could barely hold his sword.
But it should not have been like this.
He was a genius. Since childhood, he had studied all kinds of martial arts and swordsmanship. After setting foot on the path of Flesh Transcendent, he had considered himself nearly unmatched. He had won and lost against enemies, but never once, in a fight against someone his own age, had his body surrendered before his will did.
Blanca had no intention of holding back. She continued closing in with that extremely Eerie posture.
Roland knew he had no chance of winning. He was no match for the girl before him, so he decided to stake everything on one final move.
He closed his eyes, shutting off his five senses and sealing his hearing.
The instinctive fear originating from his