"Are you all right?"
Hearing the voice, Lance was startled. He subconsciously retracted his sword into the Exhibition Room and focused his attention on Grendel, who was cautiously approaching.
"I'm fine. How about you?"
Lance replied, but he received no response.
Truthfully, she hadn't even noticed Lance's subtle movent because Grendel's gaze was fixed on the shattered greatsword.
Looking at the remnants of battle etched onto it, every mark revealed the ferocity of the fight. Had such an attack landed on a person, survival would likely have been impossible.
What was more surprising was the break in the greatsword itself.
It had snapped not at its most fragile point, the hilt, but from the blade itself. This indicated that the greatsword's structure was sound and that it had broken during the battle.
What kind of imnse force would be needed to cause such a break?
Is he really human...
"Are you all right?"
Lance's voice pulled her from those indescribable emotions, and she quickly responded.
"Ah? I'm fine..." she said, hurrying down into the pit to help Lance up. "You..."
"All right, let's not waste ti talking here." Lance raised his hand to stop her slightly panicked movents, sensing that sothing was off about her.
However, Grendel seed to misunderstand his attitude. Her movents stiffened, and she said in a disappointed tone, "I'm sorry... I couldn't be of help to you."
Facing such a formidable enemy, having to take care of a teammate who couldn't keep up in battle was undoubtedly a burden.
"No!" Lance stood up from the pit. "In this battle, no one was superfluous. Without you, it wouldn't have been this easy for , and it might have taken half a day more to determine the victor."
"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been trying to manage my impulsiveness..."
Grendel could probably guess that the Warwolf's third-phase mutation had occurred because she had failed to kill it in ti. Had she dealt with it swiftly, none of this would have happened.
"No matter how it mutates, in my eyes, it's nothing more than a sitting duck," Lance said nonchalantly as he picked up the broken sword and stored it away. His tone was cool but exuded strong confidence.
That was the truth; Lance really wasn't afraid of the Warwolf's third-phase mutation.
If one Champion can't beat , why would you think two could? What kind of Champion are you? I am the Champion Slayer!
Grendel didn't understand the words, but his intense confidence overwheld her, leaving her stunned.
She had once doubted whether Lance could help her achieve her revenge. Although trust had been built between them through various events, she was more aware that this was not a matter of attitude but of strength.
The scene of the Warwolf rampaging and slaughtering her tribespeople amidst the flas had beco her permanent nightmare.
For a long ti, she had believed that she initially escaped only because the Warwolf was truly invincible...
Now, those doubts had vanished like smoke.
Lance had given her the best answer; she knew she had made the right choice.
What was even more astonishing was that a man she had t by chance had killed the Warwolf.
It was like winning a ten-billion-dollar lottery with a random ticket; the intensely satisfying realization jolted her awareness and spawned an unprecedented belief in this man.
It was as if all difficulties would simply vanish before him...
"What are you daydreaming about?"
Startled back to reality, Grendel looked up. She saw Lance already out of the pit, his figure almost blurring in the sunlight, but she could also see the hand he stretched out towards her.
Without hesitation, Grendel instinctively reached out and grabbed his hand. Before she could even savor the mont, a powerful force pulled her out of the gory, muddled pit.
Even if a plant's branches and leaves are crushed, as long as its roots remain intact, it will sprout anew with the nourishnt of the earth.
Bathed in sunlight, life is renewed.
Lance let go, but Grendel didn't. Instead, her grip on his hand grew tighter, forcing him to pull his hand away.
Now was not the ti to dawdle; he still had work to do, for goodness sake.
When Grendel snapped out of her daze from the strange sensation in her hand, she saw Lance had already begun to clear the battlefield, sacrificing the corpses of the Barbarian Tribes warriors.
As a Hoarder, there was nothing more satisfying than looting corpses to replenish the Spiritual Essence lost in battle, but at this mont, Lance frowned.
Indeed, he had sensed sothing was amiss. The Spiritual Essence felt scant. Logically, these n should have harbored so of the Wolf God's power, aning the feedback of Spiritual Essence should have been greater than that from ordinary humans, but now...
It was obvious where their life force had gone; otherwise, how could that old fiend have manifested a god out of thin air?
Grendel finally removed her White Bone Mask, revealing her beautiful face, now serene with an uncharacteristic expression of relaxation.
But she quickly noticed Lance's unusual expression and walked over to ask.
"What's the matter?"
"You know I don't like blood, and I especially don't like dead people," Lance replied, clearly not intending to elaborate further. He abandoned the idea of the Sacrifice.
This little bit of Spiritual Essence was aningless now. It would be better to hand the corpses over to Paracelsus to see if there was anything special about the Mountain Barbarian Tribe's physical structure after being influenced by the Wolf God's power.
As for those white wolves, their at could feed everyone for a al, and other parts, like their fur, could be used to make plenty of things.
"The necklace that the Warwolf tore off earlier—I don't know where it went. Help look for it."
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