A Glimpse from a Thousand Years Ago (4K5)

Pegasus held nothing back from the very beginning.

Gerald's body rose lightly into the air, his speed breaking through the limits in an instant, transforming into a silver streak that swept across the burning yellow sand.

The quicksand rose with the will of the wind, surging towards the Khan and building layers of restraints around him, trapping him in a cage formed by the quicksand.

The wind and sand are Gerald's strongest shackles at this moment, imprisoning the Nightmare King in the most violent way. The sand grains are constantly compressing and spinning, trying to block all of Harlandu Khan's space for movement.

The sword, which struck first and arrived later, sliced through the air at near-sonic speed, reaching Harlandu Khan and slashing down from above.

However, the Khan remained unmoved. He merely raised his head slightly, drew the two swords from his waist, and used the long sword in his left hand to forcefully block the Pegasus's attack, while pointing the other long sword in his right hand towards the sky.

The next instant, darkness spread out from beneath his feet.

That was the night that belonged only to the Nightmare Khan, a night that swallowed the midday sun.

It was as if the sky had been torn apart, and the boundary between day and night had been forcibly overturned. The sky above Gerald's head suddenly lost its light, and everything was completely shrouded in endless darkness.

Conquering the earth, conquering nature and the stars— Harlandu Khan's fear is the fear of his own powerlessness. Therefore, the weak are meaningless before him; a mere glance is enough to extinguish their will to fight, rendering them unable even to stand upright. For the strong, however, the darkness they inhabit is the embodiment of this fear, an unbreakable force, belonging to the Khan's domain.

But this meant nothing to Gerald.

Although his eyes were swallowed by darkness, the wind was still there; he only needed to close his eyes and amplify all his senses to the limit.

The blade sliced through the night, striking the Khan's dominant hand as he led the attack; the metallic clang instantly shattered the darkness.

Gerald's sword, imbued with wind pressure, forcefully deflected the opponent's attack. At the same time, an invisible wind spear swept in from the flank, aiming straight for Harlandu Khan's waist.

The Bloodfiend Lord's control over blood gave him a new understanding of the wind. At this moment, the wind, as always, took on the role of the attack's secondary force, just like when he fought against Kal'tsit and Mon3tr at the same time. He used his sword to block the Khan's main attack with his longsword, while using the wind to block the Khan's other side, preventing Harlandu Khan's twin swords from fully launching an offensive.

But the Khan's twin swords represent a fighting style far beyond imagination, embodying the true meaning of war—born solely for conquest and slaughter.

He stomped his foot, sending sand and gravel swirling around him. He spun around, his right hand sweeping his longsword horizontally. Just before the wind spear hit, the blade precisely Sever the structure of the wind, shattering the wind spear, which was powerful enough to pierce any steel, into pieces under the flash of the blade.

The swirling wind, after breaking apart, swirled up the dust and sand on the ground, trying to hold back the Khan's arms and legs as before, buying time for its child to launch an attack.

However, this was all in vain for the Khan. Ignoring the restraints on his body and the swirling wind and sand, he raised his right-hand longsword and slashed at Gerald.

Gerald did not stop; his sword continued to advance, the Storm coiling around its blade, drawing a smooth arc in the darkness, and deflecting the Khan's left hand.

He then used the wind to forcefully change the direction of the sword blade, and used the tip of the sword to touch the Khan's long sword that was attacking from the side, instantly neutralizing the attacks from both sides at the same time with skill.

However, this technique can only be used three times.

When Khan tried to solve the problem using the same method for the fourth time, he did not continue to attack relentlessly. Instead, he stopped his forward slash and used his two swords to intercept the trajectory of the blades as they were drawn back.

Then the blade suddenly flipped, shattering the Incantation- infused sword in mid-air with tremendous force. Immediately afterwards, the left hand shot forward, the blade slicing horizontally towards Gerald's neck.

What exceptional combat awareness that must be!

Pegasus himself died a total of 109 times in order to break Kal'tsit's move.

Even though he knew he was always the one with worse physical fitness, this learning speed was at a level he had never seen before in his Pegasus.

But he was not without precautions.

Gerald leaped into the air, the wind gathering beneath his feet, propelling his body through the air in a whirlwind. The figure that had just been beneath the Khan's blade vanished instantly. His sword, accompanied by Incantation, reformed and slashed back upon landing, aiming straight for Harlandu Khan's chest.

The Khan slightly turned his body, crossed his twin swords, and parried, deflected the force, and counter-attacked—all the movements were completed in one smooth motion, without even a trace of extra breath required.

The moment their figures crossed paths, a series of sharp slashing sounds erupted from the darkness. The air trembled as their swords clashed, and the Storm and night intertwined. Each strike grazed past them by almost the millimeter, and each collision unleashed a violent shockwave that scattered the surrounding yellow sand.

The Storm churned in the darkness, and the sandstorm was swept into the air by the crisscrossing slashes of the sword and the twin blades, turning into golden streaks of light that fell like a torrential rain.

Gerald's sword remained sharp, the direction of the Storm constantly shifting with his will. Each strike was faster and more ruthless than the last, the wind spears erratically darting through the darkness, attempting to tear through the Khan's defenses. He no longer relied solely on swordsmanship, but transformed the entire battlefield into his sword, using heaven and earth as its edge, pressing down on the Khan.

But Harlandu Khan's twin blades were like an unchanging ancient city wall, each swing precise and accurate, Sever through any oncoming Storm. Whether it was a sword blade or a wind spear, his twin blades could completely dismantle it at the most opportune time and the most precise angle, as if he had already mastered Gerald's skills and only needed to crush the struggle in the simplest way.

After another close-quarters exchange, Gerald's breathing became erratic for a moment, his arm went numb from the recoil, and his steps faltered almost imperceptibly.

He knew he had reached his limit.

The best way to gain the upper hand in this battle is to use the wind to create distance between yourself and the Khan, and use ranged spells and the speed of your movement to try to find openings and keep your opponent constantly on the run.

But putting aside the fact that the Khan's strength far exceeded his imagination, his bottom line also did not allow him to use the sky as a cradle to protect himself when facing such an opponent.

But if we were to truly discuss the current situation... even exchanging injury for injury would be a luxurious delusion.

He knew very well that in the instant he attempted to exchange blows, his body would be pierced by a long knife, and the next moment, another long knife would reach his neck, ending his life there—giving him no chance to continue.

Study.

The only option is to continue learning Harlandu Khan's techniques, just as his opponent is learning and countering them; the longer it drags on, the better.

And just as if in response to his idea, the Token of Friendship he had obtained by defeating the Bloodfiend Lord on his chest was now radiating a slight warmth.

The blood belonging to the Bloodfiend slowly flowed down from the cloth on Gerald's shoulder, gradually entering his body and beginning to repair his nearly depleted power—before being discovered by the cloth and forcibly absorbed back into his body.

But that's enough.

Under Harlandu Khan's almost ecstatic gaze, Gerald conjured another longsword made of wind in his left hand, and then he assumed an almost bizarre stance.

--The same demeanor as the Nightmare Khan before him.

For Nightmare, darkness is their friendliest companion.

Therefore, the Nightmare Army, which was blowing horns and beating war drums in the rear, could still clearly see everything happening on the battlefield.

Their army stretched out in a line on the sand dunes, ready to pounce at any moment in case of an ambush—yet two whole hours had passed, and their Khan was still fighting the young Pegasus. Not even a single beast had been seen on the desert, let alone any ambush.

That's why almost all Nightmare simply watch the scene before them in silence.

No one had ever seen an opponent who could fight their leader to this extent, even though they were all aware of the Khan's obvious appreciation for talent.

Using his twin swords, he unleashed a double-blade technique, and based on his own usage and combat experience, he instantly developed a complete set of tactics to counter the Khan's attacks. Although most of them were defensive, both the strange sword that could be reassembled and the inexhaustible wind caused the Khan's subsequent attacks to stall for a period of time.

And because both swords could change according to the Pegasus's will, Gerald once even broke through the Khan's defenses with a surprise attack, leaving an extremely long and narrow battle scar on the Khan's helmet.

Considering his apparent age, this goes beyond simply being described as a genius.

Can you do that?

Standing at the forefront, Nightmare, a trusted Nightmare of the Khan, turned to his comrade with a somber expression, seeking some validation from him.

The other person simply shook their head. "To be honest, let's not even talk about the answer that even a fool could see."

"Looking at the battlefield alone... I can't even tell which one is our esteemed Khan."

I've lost track of how much time has passed.

The cloth on his shoulder, which had absorbed blood from defeating the Bloodfiend Lord and several other Sarkaz, had finally receded from its oversaturated state and was now in need of replenishment.

The intense deconstruction and endless collisions were gradually pushing his body to the brink of exhaustion. Even though the wind could still propel him forward and he could still fight with his sword, his spirit was beginning to crumble.

However, just as the Khan's twin swords were about to fall again, he stopped.

It wasn't a mistake in the battle, but rather that Harlandu Khan himself voluntarily stopped wielding his sword. In the instant the darkness completely dissipated, he slowly sheathed his weapon.

"Your condition is not good enough right now."

His voice sounded exceptionally clear amidst the lingering effects of the sandstorm.

"You've never been to the desert, nor have you had proper rest. Only battles fought when you're in top condition have meaning."

Gerald narrowed his eyes slightly, watching the Khan's unmoving posture, then gently exhaled, adjusted his breathing, and slowly lowered the sword in his hand.

"...Then, let's continue later," he replied.

Upon hearing this, Harlandu Khan removed his helmet, revealing his first genuine expression against the backdrop of the dark night sky—a satisfied smile.

He stepped forward, reached out, and grabbed Gerald's wrist. "Call me Harlandu Khan, or Khan, it doesn't matter. You have the right to choose how you are addressed, strongman—no, Gerald."

The Khan's grip was steady and powerful, as if the weight of the earth were transmitted through his hand. His gaze swept over Gerald for a moment, then he tilted his head slightly, his tone tinged with doubt. "You look like a Kuranta, of Nightmare blood?"

He frowned slightly, scrutinizing Gerald closely, but quickly dismissed the idea. "No... he doesn't seem like it. I've never seen a silver-haired member of my tribe."

"I come from Kazimierz."

Gerald nodded. "I'm not here for revenge, I just want to fight the Khan who has conquered the world."

However, the other party's attitude was beyond his expectations.

Harlandu Khan's gaze paused slightly, as if searching his memory for traces of the place name. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he were deep in thought.

Then, in the next moment, he suddenly realized something, his tone so calm as if he had completely understood the simplest thing:

"So that's the place."

Chapter 8: A Glimpse A Thousand Years Ago (4K5)

The swirling yellow sand finally subsided amidst the aftermath of the battle, and the Nightmare Army's march slowly came to a halt, with campfires rising everywhere.

The warriors removed their heavy armor, draping their cloaks casually over their spears and swords. The army's supplies were arranged in an orderly fashion, with water bags and wine kept separate, because every drop of water was meticulously counted; they were more precious than gold.

That night, the Khan's tent was brightly lit, and the discussions about skills, accompanied by drinks, never stopped, continuing even after all the Nightmare had been intoxicated.

And so Gerald experienced for the first time what it was like to be drunk in a dream.

The Khan was a great drinker; it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him a hero.

For Nightmare, alcohol is like the blood flowing in their veins. Although the alcohol content is not high due to the distillation process, once the quantity is accumulated, it becomes an astronomical number.

Not to mention, this was done while chatting and drinking with the Khan.

The environment has a profound impact on people. Compared to a meal or a mere embellishment during a battle, being able to drink with historically renowned figures... this experience is truly exhilarating.

[Since the battle must continue, you have the right to rest in your tent, drink water, eat meat, and recover your strength.]

These are the words the conqueror said to him.

The other man was still wearing his thick leather robe and armor, even in the scorching desert. His helmet had been removed, revealing a weathered face that had seen many battles.

The aroma of alcohol filled the tent. Gerald's fingers gently traced the rim of his glass. He was still conscious, but his body had become sluggish under the influence of alcohol.

The firelight outside the camp remained bright, giving the Nightmare army a respite. The heavy breathing mingled with the sandstorm, making the night exceptionally quiet.

If he could meet a historical figure, what would he ask? -- He might have thought about this question in his previous life, but for Gerald in this life, all he wants to know is about combat techniques.

After a moment's thought, Gerald asked, "Your army intends to conquer Sargon next, is that right?"

"Indeed, the reputation of that King of All Laws still resounds even in the East."

These were Harlandu Khan's words, spoken after several rounds of drinks, carrying a hint of long-lost exhilaration. "You knew this, which is why you appeared in the desert, isn't it?"

"I know you came here for the sake of the Heavenly Path."

Gerald knew that this message was passed down from the descendants of the Nightmare in later generations, and that it might seem a bit out of line in modern times.

But the Khan didn't seem to mind. Instead, he laughed heartily, "Haha, I knew it! You carry a bit of the aura of Nightmare with you, don't you?"

He gulped down the liquid from the wine sac, swallowing the pungent taste in one go. After wiping his mouth with a flourish, he said, "Although it's so diluted that it's almost imperceptible, there's no doubt that you don't belong to that Pegasus. You're more like us, more like me."

"... If I had to say, I guess so."

Gerald learned two things during his medical examination on Rhodes Island.

First, his physique is extremely abnormal compared to a normal Pegasus, especially compared to Margaret, who is also Pegasus and is temporarily residing on Rhodes Island.

Not to mention that the density of Originium crystals in the blood is incredibly low, it wouldn't cause any problems even in high concentrations of Originium.

Moreover, to truly trace it back to its roots, his blood was like a top-tier hodgepodge, almost a mixture of all sorts of unorthodox and even completely unseen things, yet the final product still yielded to the main bloodline, making it resemble Pegasus.

In short, even Kal'tsit had never seen anything like this before. The result of the combination was almost unrecognizable from a normal Kuranta, with a genetic similarity of only about 98.0%, which could be considered as belonging to an alien race.

This report had left him somewhat bewildered.

Ai Fanier felt equally confused, because although his test results were somewhat abnormal, they weren't to the same extent as Gerald's.

Moreover, this child was indeed said to have the purest Banshee bloodline, a conclusion that had been verified by the rulers of various Royal Courts.

That's what Kal'tsit said.

Fortunately, the other Royal Courts couldn't gain any advantage over you, especially considering that you didn't accept the Bloodfiend King's invitation.

Although she couldn't understand the meaning of those words, Kal'tsit glanced at the Doctor, who also had access to her files, and wondered what he was thinking.

The second point is an extension of the first point.

Kal'tsit believed that this situation was similar to a story she had heard in the Great Yan, except that so far she could only find this one case, and this idea was currently just a hypothesis.

--He contains a part of some Feranmut.