Ⅲ
The Silver Sword collided with the stone statue, and a piercing screech erupted from the impact, forming a visible ripple that spread in every direction.
In an instant, every tree within a hundred-meter radius crumbled into dust.
Boom!
The blazing flames wrapped around the Silver Sword spread onto the stone statue the instant they collided.
A pillar of fire ten meters thick shot into the sky.
It carried the stone statue into the air with it.
And held him firmly in place.
Scarlet light flared in the statue's eyes.
"Witcher!"
Blood Drinker Heber murmured to himself, seemingly reminiscing, yet sounding almost mocking. The power unique to a Blood Drinker let him break free of the restraint in an instant.
But though he had broken free...
Count Bernaken's next attack had already arrived.
The old Witcher, who had just charged past on horseback, wheeled his mount around with unimaginable speed and delivered a turning slash.
Clang!
This time, it struck the center of his back.
Blood Drinker Heber did not dodge.
Or rather...
He could not!
"Even if you're burning your own life away, how many more attacks like that can you manage?"
Blood Drinker Heber asked.
This time, there was no mockery.
Only reminiscence remained.
For a brief moment, a trace of warmth even entered those cold, scarlet eyes.
Yet distortion still arose.
Reminiscing did not stop Blood Drinker Heber from attacking.
After all, in those memories, he had personally torn apart his own husband, who had also been burning his life away.
"That was so long ago.
But now that I think about it...
I rather liked the warmth of that blood."
Blood Drinker Heber spoke softly.
As he spoke, the distortion took full effect.
It was not merely a distortion of perception.
It was a complete force