The appearance of Chidorian caused an inexplicable pressure to weigh down on everyone present.
Perhaps this was the unique aura felt only between the powerful—that kind of presence, sothing ordinary individuals could never possess.
Of course, that certain soone who constantly tried to appear harmless was the exception.
Chidorian stood in the street like a colossal statue.
He coldly surveyed the large number of dead Tri-Eyed Clan soldiers on the ground, then looked at the mbers of the Knights of the Round Table standing atop the corpses, frowning with disgust.
"Even among bugs, so individuals with strength have erged?"
"I've always said these ugly creatures should be killed off completely—they shouldn't be allowed to live!"
Chidorian raised the massive greatsword in his hand and, without a trace of emotion, swung it straight forward!
This sword strike was unremarkable, with no flashy superhuman ability glowing, yet it triggered a terrifying sonic boom. The air surged into a mighty gale, sending the surrounding buildings flying backward on both sides.
Such was the power of a single strike—terrifying beyond words!
Lancelot's expression imdiately turned serious, but his eyes were filled with undisguised joy. "Finally, soone with real strength has shown up, haha!"
He let out a long roar, and a pitch-black longsword suddenly appeared in his right hand.
Black flas rose from beneath his feet, spiraling upward, enveloping his entire body like a hellish inferno demon.
The knight's greatsword swung fiercely, crashing head-on against the massive blade that was several tis larger than Lancelot himself!
"Boom!!!"
An overwhelming surge of power erupted violently outward, sending buildings from several streets flying in all directions as the terrifying force pushed them away.
Even the mbers of the Knights of the Round Table changed expressions and fled the area imdiately.
Chidorian, the Grand General of Nasha, a top-tier warrior with a superhuman ability index of 19,000.
Deputy Commander of the Knights of the Round Table, the Judgnt Knight Lancelot, with a superhuman ability index of 18,000.
The Knights of the Round Table mbers quickly escaped the area; the battle between these two powerhouses was sothing they could hardly interfere with.
Moreover, the troops under Chidorian's command had already surrounded the place.
A centurion, over ten ters tall, clad in silver armor and carrying a massive battle-ax, slowly approached, hot air blasting from his nostrils.
"Now, it's pest-control ti!"
On this battlefield, Nasha's Epsilon-level superhuman had finally arrived.
Their respective subordinates also began a fierce lee.
But the true decisive factor, naturally, was the battle between Chidorian and Lancelot.
Chidorian's expression was stern as he looked down at the tiny Lancelot, like a human gazing upon a bug.
Yet even for a bug, his strikes showed no rcy. His enormous war sword swept across the sky, the terrifying sonic boom capable of rupturing eardrums, sending rocks and rubble flying through the air.
Lancelot leaped, dodging the attack, and landed atop a pile of rubble.
If one looked closely, they would see a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.
Just that one direct clash, and Chidorian's overwhelming strength had already drawn blood.
The Tri-Eyed Clan's naturally powerful physique was sothing humans could never match, and Lancelot paid the price for it.
But there was no fear on his face—only a blatant, blazing excitent.
He was a born battle-frenzy, who relished fighting powerful opponents.
And to face the mysterious races of the underworld in direct combat—this was the first ti in his life!
This heartfelt exhilaration, mixed with a hint of trembling deep in his soul, made him want to roar out loud with excitent.
"Bug, who allowed you to look down on ?"
Chidorian stared coldly at him, swinging his war sword once more, easily leveling the rubble before him.
A fierce gale raged from the montum of his blade, the airflow sweeping Lancelot along, making it hard for him to even keep his footing on the ground.
But he forcefully dug his feet into the earth, leaving two deep grooves behind.
"Kangge'er, Grad!"
His left hand summoned the Guardian Shield Grad, while his right hand wielded the pitch-black Conquering Sword Kangge'er.
This was one of his abilities: [Sword and Shield].
As a knight, this symbolized conquest and guardianship, his pride.
As the na suggested, Kangge'er possessed devastating offensive power, while Grad boasted formidable defensive strength, capable of deflecting the maximum amount of frontal attack force.
Facing the enormous white giant before him, Lancelot charged at him with a laugh.
It was like an ant charging at a giant, but this ant moved at an astonishing speed.
So fast that even Chidorian frowned, furious yet unable to afford any carelessness.
He understood that this bug before him was extraordinary, nothing like those re vermin of Nasha who only knew how to steal food from trash cans.
"Boom!" "Boom!" "Boom!" "Boom!" "Boom!"
His greatsword ca crashing down like a hurricane, sword energy enveloping every inch of the surrounding space, even the pressure of the sword wind shattering the earth into fragnts.
At the sa ti, his enormous foot stomped down rcilessly, trying to crush Lancelot flat in one step.
Lancelot's gaze grew deeper and deeper.
"Is this what hell looks like? My lord, I have witnessed the hell you prophesied!"
Pitch-black flas surged up from the "666" tattoo on the right side of his face.
An endless sea of flas spread like a black storm around Chidorian.
"Fallen Ashen Flas!"
What Lancelot believed in was the Satan of hell, and the flas he wielded were the hellfire that could burn souls.
In the face of all this, Chidorian's expression remained utterly still. Within the blazing black flas, all sorts of complex illusions seed to erge, showing him bizarre and unfathomable sights.
But his eyes remained resolute as he simply swung his sword down at Lancelot.
The humans on the surface had been born with all sorts of convenient services.
Want to travel? Take a car.
Want to hunt? Use a pistol.
But the people of Nasha still lived in primitive ways, venerating brute force, believing that absolute power was the most important thing in the world.
Thus, from the ti he could rember, Chidorian had been swinging his sword every single day.
He was nothing more than a cold, emotionless killing machine.
To him, the leaping Lancelot was just a flashy bug, incapable of disturbing his focus in the slightest.
His greatsword struck, swept, stabbed, and slashed—simple and unadorned, yet every move was deadly!
If Lancelot took even one hit, even wearing the highest-grade combat suit, his body would be snapped in half!
Even a graze would turn a part of his body into bloody pulp.
With absolute superiority in strength, Chidorian had no use for flashy fighting styles.
Overwhelming force conquers a hundred techniques—that was the simplest and most kingly strategy!
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