Mr. Rahab Lea held his longsword, as sacred energy emanated from it.
Ah, that’s right, Mr. Rahab Lea was once a Paladin of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest in his younger days, so it’s no wonder he can do this.
Malin looked towards ntor Etiselk, hoping he would demonstrate his power.
"Positive Energy again! Why must this world use such a foolish manner to judge a person!" said ntor Etiselk, as dark energy burst forth from his body, eventually transforming into his armor, and the black negative energy also remade his greatsword. Etiselk just slung the greatsword over his shoulder, then viewed his own brother with insubordinate eyes.
"Wow, it’s the Black Knight, Mr. Etiselk looks so handso." A few girls not far away clutched their faces, swooning... They seed to be apprentices of Lord Rahab Lea.
"Look at you now, you’ve changed so much I can hardly recognize you. You used to say you had no luck with won, but did you ever consider how you’d look after unleashing your realm?" After speaking, Lord Rahab Lea also initiated his release, and the old man erged from the surrounding light as a beautiful man with golden wavy hair, wearing golden armor, a pure white cape over his left shoulder, and holding a broadsword inscribed with sacred scripts in his hand.
Wait a second, who are you? Malin and Clovis, thinking in unison, tilted their heads, feeling deceived by their own eyes.
"Wow, it’s the Perfect Knight, still, ntor Rahab Lea looks a bit handsor," the girls nearby continued their swooning.
Malin covered his face with his hands—he felt he had wronged ntor Etiselk, having realized that indeed Etiselk was an entire realm lower than Rahab Lea, and in the battle of Light and Dark, being one realm lower was a surefire way to seal one’s fate.
No wonder the ntor said he couldn’t win, he truly couldn’t.
And what’s more terrifying is that he now understood why his ntor said he could never win at anything... If only you’d think about it, after you transform into the Black Knight, your hair is dry, yellow, and split, and your patchy beard looks like it hasn’t been shaved in five days, though your eyes are lancholic and misty. But your brother’s piercing gaze is even more impressive, and just by his appearance alone... any parent would be partial.
"Are those two brothers going to fight again?" Mr. Banai, who climbed up onto the railing, seed to know sothing, so Malin curiously looked at him and asked eagerly, "You seem to know sothing."
"Yes, the Quaser brothers have been fighting for almost a lifeti now. When they were young, both were genius apprentices, but they were two extres. The older brother possessed an unrivaled Blessing Talent, while the younger was a genius with a Curse Talent over nine. Their relationship was always poor, and after their realm releases, they would fight every couple of days. The opposition in their talents caused much distress to their parents, until a Bishop in Carterburg agreed to take him on as a ntor. At the ti, there was also an apprentice with a full score in Curse Formula Talent; I wonder if Etiselk has taught him well."
Mr. Banai’s answer took Malin aback—full score in Curse Formula Talent, ntor Etiselk had never ntioned such a person.
While Malin was still curious, the Quaser brothers had already started fighting.
Although they appeared to be physical fighters, the actual fight was full of Spell Formations flying around, one casting a curse, another a purification; swords clashed and negative energy splashed everywhere, forcing even opponents in nearby areas to fall back.
"What Sequence are they?" Malin asked Mr. Banai, watching the spectacle—after a short while, Malin felt he couldn’t catch up to these two even if he tried; they were just too strong.
"No, they have original professions. Only those apprentices from the Church with extrely good compatibility can get such an opportunity. I, on the other hand, am a Sequencer." Mr. Banai said this as he produced a length of wire from his sleeve, ford a ’hello’ in the air, then swiftly retracted it back into his sleeve.
Malin thought for a mont and began pondering whether he should take up being a Mage as well.
Being strong is for the mont, but being handso... that’s a lifelong matter.
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