The blade of the residual fire is still sharp, and if the spell that can cause severe pain is ignored, a warrior with stronger strength can pull it out.

The black body and hilt are integrated, and the hilt is set with a dull dark gem. Its metal trim is delicate and beautiful, but not too fragile, and there is no sense of slap in use. Crimson flames coiled above the black blade, and orange sparks fell from the blade from time to time—Oliver could feel the pulsating power inside the blade, which was called a good sword full of evil spirits.

Except for one thing…

Oliver held the blade of the remnant fire in front of him, frowning: "Why?"

"The bone sword around your waist has no power." Godwin was silent for a long time, clenching the hilt. "And I'll use Daybreak, it's not fair to you."

Godwin couldn't tell how he was feeling at the moment.

Even if he does not agree with the meaning attached to this sword by the Pope, he does not believe that a mere sword can be used as a screening system for the brave. but why? Why can Oliver Ramon and his father use it with ease?

He strives to become the perfect hero of legend, the one who can truly pull the suffering people out of the water and fire. For this he can sacrifice everything and suppress everything. He would put his own needs behind everyone else in the world—Godwin had long since made up his mind, and now he was adept at ignoring grievances and grief. Not for fame, money or power. He just wanted to do the "right" thing, Godwin was so convinced.

Because he was destined to take on the destiny of saving the world.

For this reason, he discards desire, discards weakness, and even closes himself. Day after day, after practicing hard and risking his life, he started with a sword and developed the horizon into what it is today.

Why is he not as good as Oliver Ramon, who opened a hotel in a remote town just a few months ago?

It is obvious that their father is a biological brother, is there a difference in their blood? Or is he not doing well enough?

Why?

If, just if... As my father once wished, Oliver Ramon was the "last brave". So what has he been living for so far? What should he do with everything he has to bear?

The first time Godwin clenched the hilt, he trembled.

"Block the venue," he said hoarsely, "don't affect the others—"

The Horizon mercenary was about to retreat when he was stopped by the young man with a face similar to his own regiment leader.

"You don't need to come, sir. We have someone here who can do it." Oliver waved the residual fire a few times and took a deep breath, as if familiar. "Jesse Dillon, block the venue."

"Why me! Wouldn't it be better to let your sweetheart come?" Jesse, who was slipping towards the horizon tent, screamed.

Oliver and Nemo's faces turned blue at the same time, and they both showed expressions that were close to nausea. And Godwin looked at Ann in disbelief, whose facial muscles twitched a few times. The four students were expressionless, and the little noble even tried to cast a sympathetic look at Godwin.

"Where are you looking, Lopez? I won't mess with your family, not even for a night!" The female warrior rubbed her temples, her face ugly and scary .

"I will fight Godwin seriously. Seriously, fight." Oliver gritted his teeth and said to Jesse word by word. "May require a very strong blockade, great Mr. Dylan."

Jessie rolled her eyes. With a wave, a milky white halo rose around the edge of the stone platform, reaching the sky. The two people in the arena seemed to be separated by a layer of fog, but they could still vaguely see their movements.

"Which one?"

"Nimo." Oliver raised his sword, "This is not the time to introduce, we'll talk about this later."

"That's a demon believer! You're crazy." Godwin gritted his teeth and swung his sword up.

"I may be more crazy than you think." Oliver laughed dryly and took the sword firmly.

The gray smoke spread out suddenly, and the oppressive feeling like a huge wave splashed straight to the head of the horizon. The latter did not panic, the blade of the Sword of Dawn flowed through the splendor, and the half-moon-shaped orange-red halo was thrown off by the blade, and the gray fog was cut cleanly. The movements of the two were astonishingly fast, except for a few, no one could see how they attacked and evaded. The sound of the swords colliding was abnormally loud, and the two figures collided on the ground, and then they were in the air.

The bright figure in the cape belongs to Godwin Lopez, and the dark one is the leader of the tumbleweed, most people can only distinguish these. Most of the mercenaries on the horizon can only confirm the injuries of the two when they are pushed back by the impact force, and the soles of the boots and the stone platform draw a cloud of dust, so they can barely tell which side has the upper hand—if they haven’t been fought yet. The rising wind blows the words away.

The two captains look evenly matched.

Neither of them died, the two of them just added a few new incisions on the skin. The blood slid down the sweat-soaked skin, and was thrown out by the body that moved again.

But Godwin knew in his heart that the situation was far from even.

Oliver Ramon originally used the usual swordsmanship and footwork of the Knights of Judgment of the Rudd Church, but after a short battle, his sword changed—

Instead of changing, it is better to say that Ramon is quickly getting used to this battle rhythm and calculating the most suitable moves against him. His breath was no longer the clumsy greenness he had seen when he first met him. As the blades collided again and again, something similar to darkness flowed out from Oliver Ramon's moves. His offensive was completely suppressed, and even in the late stage, he could only focus on defense rather than offense.

If it weren't for Ramon's lack of killing intent, Godwin would have been happy to turn this fight into a real life-or-death fight. The **** aura on the opponent made him vigilant. He had only seen this kind of fighting emotion on the remnants of the battlefield before.

And those gray fogs.

They were just rolling around Ramon at first, not swarming up. Ramon sometimes used them to devour the spells he attacked, but never directed them to attack. Godwin accidentally wiped them, and the armor that touched the black mist was instantly corroded.

As their battles escalated, the surging of the gray fog became more and more regular, but they remained in place.

The thought of the other party staying behind made him shudder. Except for those warriors who held high positions in the court or the Holy See, Godwin Lopez had few enemies in the free mercenary. It has been a long time since he felt this kind of feeling that he couldn't see the opponent's strength clearly.

No.

Godwin abandons his defenses, and his offense becomes more and more severe.

He can't lose.

The holy sword made a neigh at dawn, and the entire blade was covered with strong light. Even through a layer of translucent light screen, the bright light can stab people's eyes and hurt.

If he loses, his life will be downright a tragic joke.

Some emotion gnawed at his heart, and the pain could not stop. Godwin lifted the break, boots on the slate, and slashed at Oliver's remnant fire—

And his pair looked at him sadly and let out a very light sigh.

Meanwhile, offstage.

"Don't you explain?" Nemo stared at the battle on the stage, and stretched Jesse's collar by the way - making sure the defensive formation was just right, the blond youth planned to slip to the horizon again .

"Explain what, do you and Mr. Ramon plan to have a low-key relationship? I don't believe it." Jesse hummed aggrievedly. "You tell Mr. Ramon who I am, oh, that little expression he just made... In short, you sell me, I sell you. This is called friendship, my dear friend. Now let me go, I want Go and call Ed to watch."

"..." Nemo's mouth twitched, and he finally turned his face towards Jesse. Jesse had found the right breakthrough—although, as the leader, Oliver had the right to know Jesse's identity. But when the other party mentioned it so openly, he was really a little troubled.

"What's the matter with this maze?" Nemo decided to change the question, "Did you do it or did I do it? There is no one else at this power level...I guess you did it."

Jesse, who was trying to slip away again, stopped: "You want to know?"

"Considering we'll have to run from here for a while, Ollie won't be able to look at you for a while. I do want to know."

"Well, I did it. Just destroy it." Jesse shrugged, "I don't care, it's useless anyway."

"I see." Nemo hesitated for a moment, but continued to ask. "Would you mind explaining the, uh, special biological situation here? But that's just my personal question, if you don't want to…"

"Of course I don't mind! But even if I tell you now, you may not understand." Jesse seemed to be excited, he turned around and played with the ends of his golden hair.

"Try it."

"Hmm." Jesse raised his eyebrows half-smile, "Then let me tell you a story."

"Once upon a time there was a lovely bard who wandered out, hungry and cold. Such a poor man passing by a door and smelling the food in the cracks of the door, guess what he would do Do?"

"Begging for food?"

"Do you have to say it so badly? Well, don't say it as if it's something for nothing. Yes, the poor man pried open the door, entered the room, and found that the host was enjoying the dinner alone—"

"I think 'break-in' might be more appropriate..."

"That's a big table full of food, one person can't finish it. What a waste." Jessie snorted from her nostrils, ignoring Nemo's comments. "Finding that he couldn't beat the master, the weak bard had an idea. He offered the master a deal--'I'll give you what you want in exchange for a portion of my food. Those furthest from the table , you like the least you like', how smart, right?"

"The lonely and bored host agreed to the deal, but he was a bit of a cleanser and didn't like sharing a plate of food with others. So he asked - the lovely bard had to find a plate for himself, Pick out the dishes you want from the table. The host wants to carefully examine the samples of the next dishes before deciding whether to give them out.”

The ice blue eyes stared at Nemo with a hint of inexplicable playfulness. And Nemo could feel his body stiffen a little bit, and he vaguely guessed something.

"Their deal went well, and both got what they wanted. The bard had his own table, his own food. Wash the dishes that were originally used for the samples. Until now, the samples are still in the dishes and the flavors are all mixed up.”

"Enough." Nemo's voice was dry.

"You don't ask me what the 'master' wants?"

"Not now." Nemo took a deep breath, "I'm not… ready."

"Smart decision." Jesse pouted, "How do you say it, you see, you are barely a person now. I have told other humans the 'truth', you guess they later how was it?"

Nimo looked fixedly at each other.

"They're all crazy." The pretty blond young man smiled and shook his head, showing his white teeth, as if telling a funny joke. "Are you satisfied now? I'm going to find my dear Ed! . . . Do you think he can hold on in the end?"

He didn't wait for Nemo's answer, and rushed happily towards the horizon.

"I didn't hear anything!" Before Nemo could make a sound, the grey parrot he was holding inside screamed, with a little crackling. "I do not know anything-"

Nemo forced a smile, rubbed the parrot's head, and looked at the center of the field again.

Godwin's right arm with the sword dropped, blood dripping on the ground. Oliver had a deep wound on his left forehead, and the left half of his face was stained with blood. Under the thick blood, his left eye had to be closed.

"It's over." Oliver sighed again.

"It's not over yet." Godwin's voice was hoarse and a little pathetic. "I'm not over yet."

Oliver looked at each other sadly. Godwin had no chance, and he knew it right now.

Godwin Lopez looked extremely distressed. Oliver could guess the reason, and it was precisely because he could guess the reason that he couldn't take this battle lightly. But he really didn't want to use all his strength all at once, that might be too cruel for Godwin.

Abnormal and icy power surged in his body, pounding flesh and blood, causing pain like being immersed in strong acid. This battle continues, only to become pure attrition and torment.

On the other hand, he should thank Godwin, Oliver thought. The way the opponent manipulates the holy sword to break the dawn is worthy of reference. He may have some clues about this strange power.

It's time to end.

Oliver swung down the residual fire.

The gray fog gathered behind him, colliding with each other. A cold flash of gray—several ice cones were born, pointing directly in Godwin's direction.

And Godwin was powerless to hold up his shield.

The head of Horizon stood stubbornly with his back straight. The Holy Sword Dawn still radiated a warm glow, but its owner looked as pale and cold as the snow.

"The Pope of Ladd, Dwayne Quinn once said." Godwin's tone was equally cold, but it was mixed with a touch of vulnerability that he had never felt before. "The real hero will be recognized by the residual fire, without shame and confusion, and will not be burned by the curse above. Your father is like this, Ramon, so are you. You may..."

"If that's what you've been concerned about since just now." Oliver approached Godwin, wiped the blood from his face indiscriminately, and a wry smile crept up his face. "Well, I think you've probably been tricked."

"It hurts a lot, doesn't it? But I'm used to it, so it's fine."

Godwin looked at him blankly for the first time.

"Did Flint Lopez himself say 'Only those who are free from confusion and guilt can use this sword'?"

"No, he probably didn't mention it. He only mentioned that this sword has the power of calamity. This is the spell that Clement successfully parsed from the sword after he disappeared. —It burns the guilty, and Flint uses it all the time, everyone thinks…”

Godwin couldn't go on.

Just now, Oliver Ramon was using this sword calmly. An extremely absurd conjecture rushed into his mind.

"That's right. Father...Dad regrets something, at least I know one thing, and he even took it out to educate me. He's not that amazing. As for the 'disaster' Power'-"

Oliver lowered his head and raised his sword horizontally.

The fire is crumbling. It was shattering into powder little by little from the blade, like burnt charcoal. The gems inlaid on the hilt of the sword fell on the powder, gleaming with a dull light.

"The 'disaster power' probably doesn't exist either. With Dad's character, he may just want everyone to stay away from this sword." Oliver looked at the powder and exclaimed tremblingly tone. "Afterfire is a good sword, but it's just an ordinary good sword."

"There's a fool who put a spell on it to punish himself for his mistakes. I don't know what you've got wrong about my father, he's just... a regular guy with remorse."

"Just like that."