Salon gripped the hilt of the sword, and he held it properly.
Facing such a formidable opponent, he very much wanted to give it a try.
Additionally, Salon's eyes had almost pierced through the opponent's entire aura and magic power flow and the possible evasion directions in the future. What he saw were endless flaws on the opponent, standing there defenseless as though ready to be struck at any moment.
Yet, this peculiar enemy made him feel completely flawless, as if no matter where he struck, it would be pointless.
And Hesintos remained with an air of calm.
The hand gripping the sword discreetly tightened, veins bulging.
"Interesting."
He muttered to himself, his gaze blazing, firmly locked on the White Robed Pope.
Hesintos had wanted to try his sword on this troublemaking fellow from the start.
