The crimson blade drew a magnificent, perfectly natural arc in mid-air. Like a blood-red rainbow, it descended straight toward Riel's figure.
Seeing that piercing sharpness coming through the air, a hint of confusion flickered in Riel's eyes.
In the Western Continent, there was no shortage of strong sword users. However, the vast majority were dual practitioners of magic and martial arts. For example, they might wrap the flames of a Fire-type Pet Beast around their Sacred Relic greatsword, making each cut an enchanted attack of Fire Elements, utterly unstoppable.
But from this sword strike, Riel clearly did not sense any fluctuations of Elements or Spells—it was merely the most ordinary slash.
Such a simple slash aimed to stop him?
Riel's figure suddenly accelerated, like a ghost in the night, his steps elusive.
The next moment, the figure in the tailcoat blurred and divided into three phantoms.
