"Get lost!"
BOOM!!!
Liao Ye's eyes blazed as he swung his glaive, smashing it into a flying dragon's wing and slamming the beast straight into the ground with a deafening crash.
"Where's that Storm King!?" Wiping the blood from his mask, Liao Ye shouted behind him.
"She went to stop that one called Lancelot! We'll hold the line here! There are just too many flying dragons!" Arash answered Liao Ye. He had found a good position, and arrows flew from his hands one after another as if they would never run out. Even so, his expression was one of gritted teeth.
East Village was ablaze.
"ROAR!!!"
A massive roar rang out. Liao Ye gritted his teeth and quickly turned back to look ahead.
There stood—
A monster that was clearly a dragon, yet carried a lance and shield.
"Not Mordred, but that one called Gareth?" Snorting, Liao Ye advanced instead of retreating, charging toward it. "Let me face you!"
Whoosh—
Whoosh—
Clang!
"Urgh—" Pindo blocked the arrow with his longsword and gritted his teeth.
"They say you can run faster than my arrows, yet the two of us have never had a proper duel. Pindo, can you still run?" Tristan stood atop a flying dragon's back, opening his eyes slightly as he looked down at Pindo on the ground.
Blood had already seeped from beneath the armor at Pindo's side.
Leonardo da Vinci's potion and the fresh bandaging had both worked well, but—
The intense movement had still torn open the wound at his waist.
He panted heavily twice. Though wounded, there was a faint smile on his face.
"Tristan destroyed his own eyes back then, yet now you can draw your bow without even trembling?"
Squelch—
Just as Tristan was about to answer, pain suddenly flared at his