The priests could not explain what they had seen. At first, they thought it was a visual afterimage caused by lightning, or a hallucination brought on by mental fatigue—something that existed only in their own eyes, mistaken for reality.
Few people knew the power of a sharp blade better than they did.
A skilled swordsman could easily open a wound in an opponent, or even run them through. But slicing an uneven object, held together by a sturdy skeleton and tough tissue, cleanly in two was an entirely different matter.
And to do it smoothly took far more than strength. It also required a weapon of unimaginable sharpness.
Not to mention that beneath the target's outer robe was a suit of armor—the kind forged as a single piece.
Rain seeped through his collar and into his clothes, and a damp chill crept up his spine.
That pale light hidden in the lightning faded away. It had lasted for only an instant, easy to miss. The tall grass kept swaying wildly, making it impossible to tell whether anything had passed through it.
"Over there... something to the right!" Kraft tried to point out what he had spotted to the others, but with no landmarks to orient himself, he couldn't describe its position precisely.
As soon as he spoke, he realized how dangerous that was. He immediately ducked low and flattened himself against his horse. Something shot past nearby with a faint, shrill whistle, vanishing into the pitch-black night.
Amid the rain, the priests paid little heed to these hidden threats. Their attention was consumed by the death that had drawn everyone's notice, and the rolling thunder that followed.
He hurled his lantern toward where the light had vanished. "Over there! Watch out for arrows!"
The priests had already reacted. Avoiding the