Battle (6)

Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle!

The crackle of electricity continued to sound through the air. The injuries of the two men lying on the ground began healing at a visible rate. Before long, they had fully recovered, as if they had never been hurt.

Red-Haired's pupils contracted as he watched Saint Mars and Saint Nusjuro slowly rise to their feet. Saint Mars's white hair fluttered lightly in the wind, his face stern and his eyes carrying the depth of someone who had weathered countless years.

Saint Nusjuro, meanwhile, was tall and powerfully built, his muscles taut. He gripped a long black blade in his hand, radiating waves of chilling cold.

"That really hurt!" Saint Mars said with a slight frown as he rubbed the wound on his neck. His voice was low and hoarse, like a whisper from hell.

"Indeed. Conqueror's Haki at that level can actually hinder our recovery speed!" Saint Nusjuro replied.

A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes. Clearly, Red-Haired's strength had caught him off guard.

"I only felt this sensation when Joy Boy wounded me," Saint Mars said through voice transmission.

His thoughts instantly returned to the battle eight hundred years ago. Even now, the brutality of that battle remained vivid in his mind.

The scar on his back had never been removed. Whenever the sky turned overcast, it felt as though ants were gnawing at the wound. That pain had carved itself into his bones.

Saint Mars glared at Red-Haired with hatred. "Red-Haired brat, I don't understand why you insist on opposing us!"

His voice was filled with fury and confusion.

"I can give you anything you want." He tried to tempt Red-Haired with benefits, hoping he would give up on opposing them.

Red-Haired snorted coldly. "Then strip the Celestial Dragons of their godhood and disband