Ⅱ
At the corner beneath the night sky, interwoven light and shadow gave rise to a deeper darkness.
Cold, sharp.
And...
Deadly!
Surprise flickered in Joel Coleman's eyes. Then his brow relaxed, and excitement overtook him-
"Your helper is actually a swordsman!"
The swordsman hailed as the strongest of the Inner Bay's younger generation seemed profoundly wrong as he spoke.
Not only did his face twist and an unprecedented savagery fill his eyes, but he also began panting heavily.
The next moment, accompanied by his heavy breathing, the swordsman hailed as the strongest of the Inner Bay's younger generation began swaying.
His bones and joints bent at unimaginable angles.
The savagery in his eyes became almost tangible.
Finally, it gave birth to madness!
"Heh heh, hee hee, hahaha.
Wonderful!
An actual swordsman!"
Muttering those words, Joel Coleman gave his sword, far longer than an ordinary longsword, a slight shake and walked toward the alley without hesitation.
With every step, the wounds Jimte had inflicted on him healed a little more.
Then, just one step from the alley, he abruptly stopped and drove his longsword hard into the ground.
Crack!
The metal blade easily sliced through the stone paving.
The tip sank three inches deep, enough to hold the longsword upright.
An invisible force field spread outward.
It carried a rejection of swords.
And contempt for swords as well.
Suppression accompanied that rejection.
Disdain accompanied that contempt.
These distinct emotions merged into a distortion-not the Distortion of the Theophat Psychic Order, but a howl from the depths of his own soul.
"The whimpering of a beaten dog."
Inside the alley, Carral curled his lip in contempt.
To think he had come with such high expectations.
And the result?
Just this!
A failure!
Beside him, Jimte sensed nothing different.
The young noble