The Ancient Ruins stirred. Everything here tainted by the Void felt its master's fury. It could not have been more obvious.
The Void Jester had already taken the little creature's silence as a declaration of war.
His two slender bone claws extended fully, the aura of the Abyss radiating from them so dense it was almost tangible.
His advance was slow, yet carried an unstoppable momentum. The Void Jester intended to tear the little thing before him apart himself.
The situation was horribly unfavorable. The enemy's leader had set his sights on the Little Knight, who cautiously drew the Bone Nail from its back, ready to fight at any moment.
Yet at a time like this, a question suddenly surfaced in the Little Knight's mind.
Its slowly growing awareness had become developed enough to consider such questions.
The enemy could clearly have drowned it beneath an endless army of corpses, yet he had chosen to act personally.
Why?
No matter how it considered this, it made no sense.
What commander went to the front lines personally to fight with sword in hand?
If the Void Jester died here, wouldn't the Flame-Soul Alliance win the Void war?
The only explanation was that the Void Jester stood to gain enough to justify such an enormous risk.
The thought took only an instant. The Little Knight immediately realized that it absolutely could not engage him at close range.
It was not because he was a full four times its height, nor because of his iron-slicing claws or the hollow eyes fixed upon it.
Rather, it was another kind of wariness, something akin to an innate instinct.
If it could not trade blows head-on, then the correct answer was to wear him down from a distance.
Immediately activating the Mothwing Cloak, the Little Knight