Af

"Yes, Lord Af."

Gilan pulled himself together and replied in a deep voice.

He raised a hand, removed the iron sword on his back together with its scabbard, then casually tossed it onto the ground.

Clang!

Gilan had no intention of using the iron sword that had come with this body. In the battle ahead, it would surely be unable to withstand the strain and shatter in an instant.

He spread his fingers.

Scarlet blood mist immediately spread between them, then gathered in his palm, condensing into a plain black knight's sword.

This was the sword personally bestowed by the Führer upon the former Bloodbath Knight—the Blood Sword McCarthy.

Yet after merging with Gilan, it had long since changed from what it once was, gaining the ability to transform into a hammer or staff.

Holding the sword in one hand, Gilan tore off his leather armor and shoulder guards, then removed the iron-studded leather greaves. He wore only an off-white linen shirt and a pair of tight brown trousers.

Facing a trace of the Crippled King's will, even if it resided in the frail body of a little boy, he did not dare let down his guard in the slightest.

Not only would this equipment be useless, it might even slightly hinder his agility in battle.

Af stood silently where he was, a woodcutter's axe dangling from his small hand.

Seeing how seriously Gilan was taking this, he revealed a satisfied, gratified smile.

"I'm ready, Your Excellency."

Gilan drew a deep breath and placed a hand over his chest in salute.

The little boy nodded and softly said:

"Then face me, Knight."

Whoosh—

Almost the instant the words left his mouth, the boy appeared before Gilan like a bolt of lightning and brought his blade down.

That ordinary woodcutter's axe