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It all happened in an instant. Like lightning tearing through the world, a single slash of light split everything in two. No one could see it, but even the air along its path was sliced cleanly apart.
The wind that had been cut fell silent. The darkness that had been severed stood still. Andrei’s bloated, ready-to-burst body froze as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him.
“Wha…t?” he muttered in disbelief at the inexplicable phenomenon.
If he’d simply been cut in two, that alone shouldn’t have stopped him. The compression of life force was already complete, and the fuse had long since burned down.
Andrei’s eyes filled with horror and disbelief. A black mage was still a mage—a seeker of the world’s truths. He could not accept a result that defied all reason.
El-Cid scoffed, reading his final thoughts.
—Mages. No matter the age, they’re all the same. They think only they can meddle with the laws of the world. But for a swordsman who’s mastered their craft, splitting the flow of things with a single strike is nothing special.
Leon hadn’t suffered so much to learn the Grand Chariot for nothing. It was an art that Rodrick himself had invented in his lifetime and wielded it until he surpassed the Master’s wall.
It wasn’t just a way to swing a sword faster and harder. It...
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