Just as Gild Tesoro was about to die, Werther heard a roar.
"Death Flame!"
Werther's pupils contracted sharply at the shout.
Marco had shouted on purpose. From what Werther sensed through Observation Haki, if he insisted on taking Tesoro's head, Marco's attack would likely hit him.
Werther remembered this move well. It could kill even snow, let alone a human being.
He immediately gave up on Tesoro and leaped back, but he still sent out a Sword Aura as he retreated.
Tesoro was already half crippled. Trading his life for an enemy in that state wasn't worth it.
In battle, a swordsman had to press forward without fear. But charging ahead when he knew it meant certain death didn't make him a swordsman. It made him a man bent on dying.
The Silver-Blue Sword Aura struck Tesoro instantly. With a scream, he lost most of one arm.
After just three exchanges, Tesoro was half crippled. Even if he survived today, his fighting strength would be greatly diminished.
Boom.
Blue flames erupted. Marco's attack missed, as expected. The patch of golden floor struck by his Death Flame began to wither, then crumbled into dust and scattered.
No wonder Werther was wary of that move. Its power was monstrous: one touch meant death.
Marco wasn't surprised that he had missed. He had only meant to force Werther back, not actually hit him with Death Flame.
"How are you?"
Marco did not turn to look at Tesoro. His eyes stayed fixed on Werther.
Werther was too fast. Against him, even a moment's distraction could mean being cut down on the spot.
"I... I'm fine."
Tesoro's lips were deathly pale, and his body trembled nonstop. He looked ready to collapse at any moment.
At the sound of Tesoro's voice, Marco stole a quick glance