A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

Therefore, he never underestimated Nalan from the beginning, nor did he deny Nalan's twisted will.

Nalan had become stronger, and Bray had known this for a long time.

The process and methods are unclear, but in terms of the result, they have indeed become stronger.

It's so strong it's hard to understand. Is this strength really without a price?

If Carrasco were that good, Bray wouldn't question it.

However, if Nalan was such a powerful person, Bray was very puzzled.

“The Ancient Sword Sect.” After a moment of silence, Bray finally spoke.

The moment the words left his lips, the sword hilt bypassed Nalan's defensive stance after his arm was severed and struck him directly in the chest.

This move, which originally required both hands, was completed by Bray using his right arm for assistance.

“Return to Heaven.” Nalan was just a slightly talented person who came from a village that worshipped its ancestors.

Right now, he's just a young man in his twenties.

"Nalan, be careful." These were the last words his parents said to him when he left the village.

"Great! It's Nalan! He's back, bringing so many things with him!" This is what I hear every time Nalan returns as an adventurer.

"Please help me!" This is another conversation that Nalan often hears from others after he becomes an S-rank adventurer.

Thinking about these things, Nalan always felt a sense of disorientation—time really flies.

S-rank adventurers are nothing to true powerhouses.

However, adventurers of this level still hold a very high position in the hearts of the people.

An S-rank adventurer means someone who can solve much bigger problems.

Nalan always held a very ordinary sense of justice and a very ordinary kindness.

They had no desires to go astray, nor any sense of pride.

However, he is indeed getting stronger, relying on his talent with the sword.

Although this talent is insignificant compared to other geniuses.

Nalan works so hard simply because he realizes he has a ridiculous idea: to become the kind of person who can hold up the sky even if it collapses.

In other words, he is what people call a "savior" or a "hero".

The children on the roadside will play the roles of powerful figures, spouting all sorts of grandiose claims.

Although Nalan didn't show it like a child, he still shared the same thoughts as those children.

If no one had told Nalan that there was a shortcut to achieving his dreams, he would probably have taken a more practical approach and made progress step by step.

If I take one step at a time, I may still not break through the S-class adventurer category, but I will probably still become quite remarkable; I may still not achieve my dream, but I should have helped enough people.

However, someone has now told him that there is a shortcut to fulfilling his "naive" idea right in front of him.

He couldn't avoid this path, nor did he want to.

It's like someone telling a person who craves wealth that if they just bend down, they'll have the chance to acquire countless riches.

Why didn't that person try to seize the opportunity?

That idea was pure and self-evident, just like what Nalan is thinking now.

---

"Crack." Only Nalan could hear the sound of shattering.

Because that's the sound of his own bones breaking inside his body.

Ah, that sound was so clear, and that blow was so heavy.

"Cough..." Blood flowed directly from Nalan's throat.

He couldn't even swallow it.

"BOOM!!!!!!!!!!" Nalan was smashed into a corner of the arena like a tattered rag doll.

The splendor of the arena made this scene appear less bloody.

But precisely because of this, the battle was all the more ironic.

"..." Nalan was trapped among the rubble, breathing heavily, without saying a word.

Bray dragged his heavy steps, gripping his longsword in his left hand, toward the spot where Nalan had fallen in the distance.

"I..." Nalan's voice was choked with sobs, because Bray's blow had severely damaged his lungs and throat.

It must be very difficult for him to say anything now; keeping quiet is the best choice for him.

"Drip, drip." Blood flowed down Bray's right wrist, the dripping sound seemingly waiting for Nalan's next word, "Ah Hu."

"I want to be a savior, I want to be a hero."

"I want to be needed, to be admired..."

"Are these ideas funny and childish?" Nalan asked in a muffled voice as he climbed up from the pile of rubble.

“Not funny, not childish,” Bray replied expressionlessly.

Everyone has their own ideas, but any ideas that others cannot understand are inevitably labeled as naive or crazy.

Are mature-looking people really mature? Are immature-looking people really immature?

Perhaps those who appear mature are secretly thinking about how to flatter others.

Perhaps those who seem naive are actually thinking about how to protect others.

Therefore, Bray only thought Nalan was very stubborn, without judging whether his idea was right or wrong.

“That’s right, it shouldn’t be funny, nor should it be childish.” Nalan lowered his head and murmured.

Nalan swung his straight sword with his right hand, neatly slicing through the pillars surrounding the arena.

The pillars collapsed and fell in all directions.

Amidst a thunderous roar, Nalan arrived before Bray, enveloped in thick smoke and dust.

"Clang!!!!!" The crisp sound of metal colliding echoed.

"Are you really that special person? And am I really incapable of becoming that special person?" The dim ring on Nalan's right hand reflected a faint light.

With their swords and knives clashing, the two men, each with only one hand left to use, launched a surprise attack from another angle while still in this state.

The power within the swords and blades was constantly erupting.

The dragon patterns on Bray's body flickered intermittently, barely managing to block the opponent's blade.

The decisive moment is when someone reveals a weakness.

"If you ask me, I can't give you an answer either."

“I’m not good at answering other people’s questions.” Bray’s right eye was calm; this final moment now seemed so ordinary.

“I want to kill you,” Nalan suddenly said.

"I can tell."

“I don’t want others to become those great characters, while I’m just a supporting character in someone else’s story all my life,” Nalan continued in his hoarse voice.

Nalan's voice was unpleasant now, but Bray was still listening attentively.

“Is that so?” Bray answered softly.

“Do you understand my thoughts?” Nalan seemed to be seeking approval from Bray’s eyes.

“I don’t understand, because I’m not you.” But Bray’s words disappointed Nalan.

“I don’t understand… I don’t understand? That’s right, who can understand except myself?” Nalan’s eyes turned gray.

Looking back now, Nalan wonders if he was a little too crazy.

Marek's shortcut was simply too tempting.

However, even if Nalan now feels that he was a little crazy, he has never regretted it.

Because he is truly moving towards his dream.

---

The moment when someone made a mistake never came.

"..." Nalan collapsed suddenly before Bray could even make a move.

Until the very moment before he fell, the force on the blade never diminished, giving Bray no chance to draw his sword.

The magnificent arena vanished, as if an illusion had disappeared.

Nalan gripped the knife, fell backward, and his eyes lost focus.

However, on Nalan's right hand, which had fallen, the ring began to emit black mist.

The cards that Nalan had collected were arranged around him.

The rubble above was falling continuously, and through a gap in the falling rocks, Bray could see Marek.

"Sigh." With a sigh, Bray had already foreseen what would happen. From the very beginning of the battle, Bray knew that Nalan would inevitably face a tragedy.

Therefore, he did not choose to fight Nalan at first, because it was pointless.

But what is the significance of Marek causing this tragedy?

Bray watched the exquisite card spin, adjusted the angle of his left wrist, and then exhaled a breath of stale air.

"Ping—" The card shattered, the ring shattered.

The black fog erupted, much thicker than before, quickly obscuring Bray's vision.

Then, a monster was born from the black mist.

The monster was not huge; it was roughly the size of a horse.

He has the body of a lion, the head of a ram, a long beard on his chin, and his whole body is covered in dull fur.

Like a fine horse, like a majestic lion, and like a unicorn.

The thick hair on his neck was like a black mist, constantly drifting and spreading backward.

Beneath the sharp fangs lay the straight blade that originally belonged to Nalan.

The monster, holding a straight knife in its mouth, stood proudly on all fours in front of Bray.

Nalan and his group, under Marek's instructions, have been continuously collecting cards.

These cards are the embodiment of conceptual remnants, which Marek can use to indirectly grant Nalan and the others abilities.

However, this thing is ultimately linked to concepts.

If it weren't for the black ring, how could the Black Iron type possibly control those powers?

Even with Marek's help, it's not enough to master something that's tied to a concept.

Therefore, the ring, as an external object, plays a role in this process.

Not only does it provide an effect that increases strength, it can also contain the remnants of concepts—that's the black ring.

However, Nalan and his companions were unaware of this.

Or rather, they had already sensed it, but faced with the choice between the danger of the ring and the increase in strength, they both chose the latter.

Nalan is the one among the Black Ring Bearers who has collected the most cards, and is also the strongest among them.

He has always relied on his spirit and the ring to control the power that did not originally belong to him.

However, in that final moment, his consciousness had already faded away.

Without Nalan's own spiritual power, the ring could no longer control the countless residual concepts.

And the final result was the birth of this monster.

Unlike the Aragami, and unlike the broken monsters.

Nalan's incarnation, resembling a mythical beast, exuded a powerful aura.

His pale yellow eyes did not contain confusion, but rather a clear, self-aware consciousness.

Then, Bray saw a deep-seated obsession in His eyes.