Theo continued to fly toward the center of the dust cloud. The closer he got, the denser the dust got. However, that discomfort only lasted for a short while before a path opened up. Aiolos, the divinity of the god of wind, unconsciously obeyed Theo’s will.

Theo realized it and used the power consciously. “Fly away!”

I know, replied the wind. This was different from magic which artificially controlled the flow. It was like the world itself followed Theo’s words as the wind brushed the dust away.

The crushed remains of humans were staining the ground. There were some soldiers who survived, but the majority were so injured they were on the verge of death. However, Theo couldn’t pay attention to them.

... There.

He was standing calmly in the epicenter of the chaos, but he was emitting a frightening presence. Theo was still quite a distance away, but it was overwhelming. The swordmaster’s greatsword was just as big as he was, a blade to match the mountain of a man. A weak person’s heart might stop from just looking at him. Pan Helliones, the 4th Sword of the Andras...