He began to levitate, his ascent very slow, and without any remarkable momentum.
But if someone observed from the front, they would discover that the expression of Vampire Prince Bertnar became increasingly indifferent, until... as cold as frost!
"Whoosh—"
A crimson Wild Wind swept by, and Bertnar appeared out of nowhere above the Infant Witch King.
He hung inverted in the sky, his arms lazily crossed, his face beautiful as jade, as if scrutinizing an ant.
"Wa— Wah wah— Wah wah wah—"
The Infant Witch King continued to cry, its Skills growing exponentially more powerful the longer they were maintained without interruption.
Suddenly, a Pale hand grasped its neck, terrible strength enough to topple mountains instantly snapped the fragile neck.
"Eh... eek... eek..."
The Infant Witch King couldn't believe it, and by the time it came to its senses, it instinctively clutched at its neck, desperately gasping for air.
