"Kid! Could you ask something a little more constructive next time? Can't you see how I am?" Solam, whose body had gradually shrunk back to normal size, barely raised his head and weakly complained. Once his body returned to its usual size, the wound in his chest looked even more gruesome. Blood, scorching like magma, poured out as if it cost nothing. In this state, anyone would believe he was not far from death.
The damage from a divine artifact was troublesome. Even Solam's absurdly powerful regenerative ability had little effect on it. On top of that, the power he had borrowed was receding like the tide. At this point, Solam was basically hanging on by half a life.
Solam's complaint left Mortarion, who had never had much of a sense of humor to begin with, even more at a loss for words. He could not even tell whether his old man was joking or serious.
Seeing his wooden-headed son, Solam could not even be bothered to criticize him. He could change him slowly in the future.
"What are you still standing there for? Your old man is really about to die. Hurry up and carry me out of here! Are you really waiting for that bastard to come back for another round?"
"Right, right!"
By the end of the battle, Yeenoghu had run, and Solam had run as well...
Put simply, Solam had done the same thing Yeenoghu did. Yeenoghu had deceived Malcanthet, and Solam had deceived Yeenoghu in the same way. After all, the power Solam used had been borrowed from others, and it could not last long. That was why Solam had taken the risk of confronting Yeenoghu head-on.
Judging from the outcome, Solam had won his gamble. Not only had he scared Yeenoghu away, but