“Cough!” Fermut couldn’t even scream.

His heart, lungs, and ribs were destroyed at the same time. It was fatal, even with the transcendental vitality of a swordmaster. Fermut couldn’t be saved, even if a cardinal found him. Orta was relieved that his fight had been easier than he thought it would be.

The arrogance that closed his eyes and the foolishness that didn’t allow him to use his talent killed him.

The Aura Ability to bend space was an innate talent. Fermut wasn’t even thirty years old, but he was in line to be the next emperor. There was no one who could keep his arrogance in check.

When would a person like this experience adversity or meet an opponent they couldn’t battle? Fermut was clearly strong, but his strength had too many imperfections. The first encounter was one thing, but fighting a seasoned veteran like Orta twice was a different scenario.

If Orta looked at it calmly, it was a well-deserved victory. In just a few seconds, the blood coming from Fermut’s mouth formed a puddle. An ordinary person would’ve died three times already from the blood loss....