Kaaang!

The three blades sent sparks flying as they met. Fermut may have been injured, but he wasn’t an easy opponent. As soon as the shock wore off, he swung his sword at Randolph, sending the latter leaping backward.

His aura was disproportionately dense for his age. Despite being nearly ten years younger, Fermut’s swordsmanship wasn’t inferior to Randolph.

“Tch, this bastard trying a surprise attack...!” Randolph stepped back and naturally stood close to Orta.

Randolph’s goal was to assist Orta and his men. It would’ve been nice if his first blow had settled matters, but this was still a good outcome.

“Hey. Heal yourself quickly while he can’t move.”

“The first aid is done,” Orta replied instantly.

Orta lived up to his title as the head of special operatives. In the moment that Fermut had been tied down by Randolph, he had consumed a potion and healed his wounds. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t fix everything.

“The trauma has been healed, but the blood loss and consumed magic power can't be reversed. By the way, I didn’t know you would come to help.”

Randolph shrugged. “I was also surprised. My status is still unclear, but this is a critical mission. Meltor is a fairly flexible kingdom.”

“That― No, we’ll talk about it later.” Orta was about to...