"Ha, haha. I never thought I'd be the one to lose my life this time."
The sharp blade was already pressed against King Hassan's chin. Though he had not yet lost the ability to fight, whether he left the field was merely a matter of Pindo's decision.
Pindo could feel King Hassan's gaze from beneath the mask. There was sorrow and indignation in those eyes.
With a soft sigh, Pindo withdrew his sword, took a step back, and sheathed it.
"My apologies."
He gave King Hassan a slight bow.
"Why didn't you thrust it in, Knight of the Round Table!?" King Hassan straightened up and touched his neck, glaring furiously at Pindo without attacking again. "Are you looking down on me!? I am not someone who fears death!"
"Conflict was never my intention, honored King Hassan." Pindo shook his head. "We are no different from those refugees over there. We only wish to find somewhere to settle down, so that we can think about how to break through the Holy City."
"Break through the Holy City? You—"
"Brother Cursed Arm? What are you doing here?" A familiar voice suddenly rang out.
Everyone froze.
"That voice is..." Fujimaru Ritsuka murmured, looking toward where it had come from.
"Liao Ye!?" Hans Christian Andersen cried out.
While Pindo and King Hassan were still facing off, Liao Ye and another unfamiliar, muscular man emerged from around the corner, both looking utterly bewildered.
Seeing the stunned crowd, Liao Ye's eyes lit up. "Hey! Master! What are you all doing here!? I was just saying I'd set out this afternoon to look for you in the Holy City!"
"Oh? So you're Brother Liao Ye's Master and companions." The man beside Liao Ye smiled and greeted Fujimaru Ritsuka, then looked at King Hassan in confusion. "Brother Cursed