Purr!
The black horse with flashing red eyes became blurred every time it moved.
It was a defining characteristic of a ghost horse—one that could not be injured by normal attacks.
Its skin was so pale it wasn't even white. Shiny silver hair. Black pupils filling its eyeballs, and a torn mouth.
The knight who stopped in front of me—or, more precisely, the head he was holding in his hand—moved its mouth.
> "D'admhaigh mé tú, ach níor mhionnaigh mé go foirmiúil fós."
Since Asmodeus wasn't here, I had no idea what he was saying.
Once again, her absence felt immense.
Aside from sheer military power, she was a multi-talented person who even had the ability to translate. Just to be clear, I definitely didn't think of her as a convenient translator or anything.
Never.
> "Ní iarrfaidh mé ach bhfabhar amháin ort."
Fortunately, he didn't seem to show any hostility.
There was nothing worse than summoning someone and then having them turn into an enemy.
