My Wife is a Dead Villainess, and I'm Her Living Weapon

For the next day and a half, Elian and his escort moved without rest. Be it under the scorching sun or freezing night, they raced toward their destination.

Alpha and Epsilon butchered any that dared to bar their way. Elian didn’t even need to lift a finger. The Tyrant could have created a new form that moved faster; with both flight and the ability to create jet turbines, he certainly could.

However, somewhere along the way, he felt inclined to watch the Naga. Alpha’s centaurs, along with Epsilon’s weird harpy-like kinsmen, fought without rest. With each battle, they grew. Not just from experience, but they reshaped their bodies with each battle.

The centaurs, for example, in the beginning still had snake heads, but soon created armored cobra helms. Their hooves, originally shaped like horses, morphed into those for camels when the group came across sandy terrain.

Their weapons, originally just simple spears, evolved into halberds shaped for quick slashing attacks. Naturally, even Epsilon’s group also changed with each battle. The speed was so impressive that Elian and Bianca became immersed in watching them.

"They are like machines. At this rate, wouldn’t they grow fiercer the more they fight?"

Bianca, in a fit of mischief, flicked the tip of Elian’s nose.

"And whose fault is that? They are merely copying your fighting style to the extreme. You should learn a thing or two from them."

"Huh? My fighting style?"

The witch nodded as she took a sip from her sports bottle.

"Yes. You fight like a typical warrior, but the moment you lose, you turn deranged. From then on, you evolve your body to whatever you need to win. Isn’t your latest ’Shark’ form a product of that entire mentality? The only difference is ego."

"Ego? What do you mean, Bianca?"