Not elegant at all.
Ruger silently passed judgment on the bizarre spellcasting scene.
They did not even know to gather up their robes before casting. Their ribs thrust outward to either side and tore the robes apart. Did that not mean they wasted a robe every time they cast a spell? They must have carried plenty of wizard robes with them.
He mocked them inwardly, but his eyes remained fixed on that black sword of magic.
Clatter-clatter! Clack, clatter-clatter!
The lame monster wolf's long jaws trembled.
Ever since the two Bearers had begun attacking it, the sick-legged monster wolf had continuously made that strange sound of teeth striking together. After hearing it for a while, it no longer sounded like meaningless noise, but rather a peculiar language of its own, as though it were issuing a warning.
Ruger took note of every detail. He always felt there was something that required attention, yet he was just short of grasping it. For the moment, he could not discern the true value of what had caught his eye. It was like the feeling he had when facing Barry Danton.
The black longsword cleaved down. Wherever it passed, the bleeding monster trees withered away, and the black sword was swung into a streak of black light.
Ruger slowly scratched his chin, staring thoughtfully at the black sword.
The tumor-legged monster wolf neither dodged nor evaded, charging straight in to bite it. Yet like an old wolf, its battered body made it seem exceptionally clumsy.
If Ruger had not missed anything, the monster wolf had yet to bite either of the two Bearers. It could be called utterly miserable, doing nothing but enduring blows. Those spells and gray vapor were not completely useless either; their effects simply were not very pronounced.
Bang!
At the