Chapter 137
“Whew…”
As I steadied my slightly ragged breath, the crimson sword in my hand dissolved into tiny mana particles, scattering away. That’s why I like using a sword made of mana—it doesn’t break, even if I pour in a little too much strength.
Of course, maintaining it requires a lot more energy than a regular sword, and it’s so difficult to control that it’s not a technique I’d use lightly.
There’s a reason why swordsmen go to such lengths to find a legendary blade. It’s much easier to find a sturdy, sharp sword and swing that around than to weave highly concentrated mana into a precise blade and keep it stable throughout a fight.
I shook off the lingering mana of Grasid that clung to my hand and stepped forward.
Where the radiant glow that once colored the world had faded, one old man remained standing.
“As expected of a Master Mage… I didn’t think you’d survive that.”
They say, “Even if it’s the enemy who killed your parents, some things are just…” It’s a saying used when someone finds it too cruel to commit a certain act or tries to stop someone from making a drastic choice. But the flip side is, when it comes to the one who killed your parents, the grudge runs that deep.
To me, that old man was such a person.