"30 seconds, don't you have any last words?"
Regardless of the opponent's race, that level of power wouldn't shake the future's image, Rinaldo Darkay's thought, speech, and strength couldn't make up for the immense gap in capability.
"Spare me the talk and just come at me!"
Furrowing his brow, Li Lin saw the failed product of a biological weapon in the man's single-handedly drawn sword. The Durandal, which overflowed with black fog-like particles, could no longer be associated with the title of [Holy Sword]. The blade that was tainted with ominous elements in its design phase was no longer a sacred existence that slayed demons and ghosts; Rinaldo held nothing but a sharp metal mass radiating curses and resentments.
"Listen up, Siegfried Otto Lilin! I'm going to beat some sense into you to correct your twisted, child-like personality!"
Knocked down, they get up. Knocked down again, they rise up once more.
