Confronting a Demigod

The air in the arena seemed to freeze for an instant.

The ancient Egyptian Champion still gripped his shield, muscles taut as he prepared to receive Ian's forty-meter greatsword. But just as he was about to charge—

Anubis spoke.

It was as though everything had been paused.

He seemed particularly concerned about some of Ian's wording.

When he heard "aircraft-carrier-grade steel," Anubis's golden pupils abruptly contracted. His jackal head dipped slightly, as though he had seen through the veil of time and space and learned knowledge he should not have known.

"You come from the future." The god of death's voice was low and certain—not a question, but a statement. He stared at Ian, his gaze not resting on Ian's physical form, but penetrating to a more essential level of existence—where the threads of time were tangled together in an abnormal fashion.

Ian's motion of swinging the forty-meter blade paused slightly.

A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes.

He hovered in midair, the blue flames of his jet engines reflecting off the metallic sheen of his armor. The blade hung three inches above Seti's head.

As someone with a strong sense of dueling etiquette, Ian naturally would not launch a sneak attack while the other party was unable to fight back. He was not some islander, nor did he have that sort of ambush-loving personality.

"You can tell that?" Ian asked with interest. His voice emerged through the armor's visor, carrying a faint electronic echo. He had added quite a bit of technology to his armor as well.

For wizards, it was not difficult to learn technological methods that Muggles had already developed. They could cheat through the learning process, though at most, that only counted as cramming.

Of course.

The crammed knowledge Ian possessed was already enough for