The quality is very poor, worse than the Dark Sister he lost by an unknown number of grades, but there is no room for pickiness at the moment.
He bent down, clasped the hilt of the sword with his fingers, and pulled Longsword out of the sand.
The gravel on the sword fell down, revealing the rusty edge underneath.
He shook it twice casually to shake off the remaining grains of sand, then grasped the hilt of the sword and turned around -
The man had already walked to a place not far behind him.
His movements were clean and neat, and the sword was as fast as the wind. Longsword was swung out from his hand, drawing a silver-white arc in mid-air and heading straight for the weapon in the opponent's hand.
This blow is not a stab, but a chop - use the thickest middle part of the sword blade to hit the opponent's weapon, forcing him to let go or block.
Redd doesn't want to kill this person, at least not now. He needs to find out how many people are still alive and how many people are waiting for him in the dark.
The moment the swords collided, there was a crisp metal collision sound with some abnormal reverberation.
"Ding--"
Then there was a second sound, softer and shorter.
"Pah."
The Longsword in Redd's hand was broken into two pieces at the collision point.
The location of the break was as precise as if it had been measured with a ruler, and the section was so smooth that it didn't look like it had been cut off, but more like it had been cut open at the molecular level by something extremely sharp.
The broken blade of the sword rotated several times in mid-air, drew a parabola, and landed on the beach not far away. The tip of the sword was inserted into the sand, and the hilt pointed upward, shaking slightly, like a crooked tombstone.
Redd was stunned.
He lowered his head and looked at the remaining half-cut sword in his hand. The blade was broken from the guard, leaving only less than a foot in length. It was no longer as good as a dagger.
His brows furrowed slightly, and his eyes moved away from the severed sword and fell on the man who was retreating two meters away.
Tormund.
This man was soaked to the skin, his hair was stained with seaweed and sand, his face had several bloodstains scratched by gravel, and there was an obvious burnt hole in his leather armor - the traces of being licked by the aftermath of the Wildfire explosion.
His left hand hung by his side, his fingers trembling slightly, and his right hand held a strange-looking weapon tightly.
That weapon was not made of steel, but of bone.
The blade is slender, slightly curved, and the edges are polished to an extremely sharp edge. The bone texture glows with a warm luster in the morning light.
The most eye-catching thing is the aqua-blue light in the middle of the blade - it is not a reflection or a decoration, but some kind of energy fluctuation that shines from the inside of the bone, like the fluorescence of the deep sea.
The light traveled on the blade, as if it was alive and breathing.
Tormund's hands were shaking, but his eyes were firm.
There was something complicated burning in those dark brown eyes, mixed with fear and unwillingness, like a fire that was suppressed in his chest and had no place to release, making his whole body tremble slightly.
He stared at the broken sword in Redd's hand, and then at the bone knife in his own hand. The corners of his mouth raised slightly, revealing a slightly ferocious smile.
Redd looked at the bone knife, then at the broken sword in his hand, and was silent for a moment.
Then he threw the broken sword on the beach.
"It's aqua blue," he said, his tone as calm as if he was commenting on the appearance of a dish. "I don't know what kind of creature it was made from."
Tormund did not answer. His breathing was rapid and disordered, and he held the bone knife in his hand tighter and tighter, and his knuckles turned white.
His eyes moved from the broken sword in Redd's hand to Redd's face, scanning the face whose eyebrows were burned by the flames but still unscathed, and his pupils shrank slightly.
"Why are you still alive?" Tormund's voice was hoarse, as if his throat was filled with sand and soot.
Redd looked at him and raised the corners of his mouth slightly. "You too."
Tormund's mouth twitched, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or curse. Of course he was alive.
His fleet is gone, his men are gone, his dragon is fighting two other dragons on the beach to the death, he is standing alone in front of a monster that has just crawled out of the sea of fire, not even a hair has been burned off, holding a bone knife in his hand that is not sure whether it can cut through the opponent's skin - he is alive, but what's the point of living?
This question went around in his mind, but he didn't get an answer.
"That knife of yours," Redd's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Can it cut off Valyrian steel?"
Tormund was stunned for a moment, not expecting Redd to ask such a question.
He lowered his head and looked at the bone knife in his hand. The aqua-blue light danced under his gaze, as if in response.
"I don't know." He said, "I haven't tried it."
"Then you are lucky." Redd's eyes fell on the bone knife in his hand, "This is an ordinary iron sword."
Tormund's hand tightened. He wanted to say "I know", he wanted to say "I saw it", he wanted to say "I just wanted to wait for you to pick the worst one" - but he didn't say anything in the end.
Because that's not true.
He didn't wait for Redd to pick up the worst iron sword at all. He was just so nervous that he forgot to rush up to Redd when he bent down to pick up the sword.
He missed the best opportunity, and now, although Redd has no weapons in his hands, the distance - two meters - is no different from face to face for people like Redd.
Tormund's Adam's apple rolled and he swallowed.
In the distance, a loud noise came from the beach.
King Ghidorah's tail whipped Bloodworm hard on the flank, sending the dark red dragon flying several meters away and hitting the beach, stirring up dust all over the sky.
Nu Tao took advantage of King Ghidorah's distraction and pounced on him, biting the left side of King Ghidorah's neck. Several of his teeth broke, but he was unable to bite through the scales.
King Ghidorah's three heads turned towards the raging waves at the same time, golden light flashing in their throats.
In the distance, the golden light in King Ghidorah's throat lit up again.
The light penetrated the morning mist and sand dust, reflecting a gilded piece of death in Tormund's pupils.
He knew what that meant - Raging Waves and Bloodworm couldn't last much longer.
His dragon, the companion he had spent half his life taming, was retreating like a beaten wild dog in front of the three monsters.
After King Ghidorah takes care of those two dragons, it will be his turn next.
There is no time.
Tormund's Adam's apple rolled, and the muscles on his face twitched, squeezing those complex emotions - fear, unwillingness, anger, despair - into an almost ferocious ferocity.
His escape route has long been cut off, his fleet is gone, his men are dead, and even the city is burning. There is only one thing he can do now.
Kill Redd.
Even if you can't kill him, you still have to give it a try.
He rushed forward with his knife.