In the eyes of the other Nepalese, they saw a flying blade slash through, and their second-order Explosive Type comrade was killed in an encounter, a line of blood spurting from the back of his head, slicing open half of his skull and brain pulp, which fell to the ground.
"So strong," the Nepalese team shuddered inwardly, turning their gaze to the three female musketeers who were suppressing the entire group, and to that ancient warrior wielding a warhammer, blocking another second-order comrade. These were clearly the summoned servants of that young man, who could almost be said to have delayed their attack with his strength alone.
The Scarred Captain felt somewhat despondent, he was also third-order, but he couldn't achieve this extent himself.
