"Right away, Lord Black Fan!"
The ground trembled once, twice, thrice...
Half a second later, a muddy, endless deluge burst from afar!
It was nearly ten thousand frenzied Undead.
Raymond's hand gripping the sword trembled as well. Even though he was nearly two meters tall, possessed muscles brimming with explosive power, and had gone from a common literary youth to a Middle Rank swordmaster in just half a year, his nature was ultimately not cut out to be a warrior. Neither adventure nor combat fit with this rather artistic young man. He simply couldn't rid himself of fear or disregard death.
["So, as I said, dead old man, I am definitely not a natural-born adventurer."]
Raymond took a deep breath, stepped forward hesitantly yet determined, and laughed at himself with a touch of self-mockery, "But I did indeed take up your longsword in the end."
The Lizardman shield warrior ahead of him looked back and asked curiously, "Commander Raymond, what longsword are you talking about?"
