In the eye sockets of the Undead Knight, burning with frost flames, was reflected a treasure sword blazing with pure silver holy flame.
'From light, the sword is born, shaking the courage of many enemies'
Such Elf Text was engraved on that sword——
Then.
A thrust forward.
Albton raised his left hand to block, but the pure fire on the sword burned through his bony palm in an instant and then pierced through his chest.
The two swords linked the two Knights together.
Only the sound of the cold wind blowing through the valley remained at that moment.
...
"I told you," Brand weakly replied, "old man, you missed one thing..."
"You think you've won, young man?" Albton spoke coldly, his voice hoarse and low, as if coming from another world.
He felt his chest burning, the pain torturous, but Albton knew it wasn't a fatal wound for him. Of course, a long period of rest was inevitable after this battle.
"No, it's just..."
"Though Erune may be old..."
