Instead of relying on his own strength, he used artifacts as substitutes.
“I thought it was strange how you moved to the left regardless of your attack direction.”
It wasn't some extraordinary technique like Aster’s.
Antero had another Magic Tool equipped on his back, allowing him to control his movements in all directions.
‘With all those Magic Tools and artifacts combined, he might be on par with Pielott without his quick draw.’
Frondier roughly estimated Antero's strength.
“To think ‘covered in trinkets’ wasn't an exaggeration.”
“Hmph. They’re excessive for dealing with the likes of you.”
Once again, a difference in perception.
Every time Frondier saw the Magic Tools Antero possessed, his disappointment grew, while Antero took pride in the sheer number of them.
‘…Why am I so angry?’
When he saw how pathetically weak Antero actually was, he felt a sense of displeasure, but now it was slowly turning into rage.
Antero was still oblivious to Frondier’s growing anger.
Instead, he gripped his sword confidently and declared, “By combining my reserve aura and channeling it into this sword, Exo, it becomes a fiercer, deadlier weapon. And with the added power of Pegasus, my charge will be unstoppable. What do you think will happen then?”
“You won’t even remain in one piece. You’ll be scattered to the winds.”
Frondier rubbed his temples.
Why did this guy insist on kindly announcing his next attack?
‘So, he calls that thing on his back Pegasus, huh?’
Then was this guy a horse?
The sword, Exo, buzzed once more. It emitted an even fiercer sound, now infused with all of Antero’s remaining mana.
“You’ll regret making me angry-”
“I really don't want to ask, but just one thing.”
Frondier interrupted Antero.
His expression was almost desperate.
“The twelve individuals called Paladins… Among them, how strong are you, really? Are all Paladins around the same level?”
“…Hmph. If you’re that curious, I’ll tell you, since you’re about to die anyway.”
“Please, I’m genuinely asking.”
Antero smirked, full of himself.
“I’m the strongest. There’s no one who can match me.”
Frondier was speechless.
Antero seemed satisfied with his silence.
“So don’t be too sad. You’re dying to the strongest knight of Palma!”
And once again, Antero thrust the tip of his buzzing sword forward, charging straight towards Frondier.
The aura drawn from the battery, the acceleration from the wings on his back, the drill-like effect of the sword.
A straight-line attack that unleashed explosive speed and power through the combination of those three elements.
Antero felt a sudden pain in his hand and lost his grip on the sword.
His sword, imbued with all his aura, continued to emit strange mechanical noises as it plummeted through the air.
And at that moment, Frondier's voice, filled with rage, reached him from right beside him.
“I can’t believe you actually missed.”
Frondier lightly clenched his fist,
…and landed a blow to Antero’s stomach.
He struck the right side of his face,
…and then, grabbing him by the hair, drove his knee into his face.
Antero let out a pained scream, blood spraying from his nose. His nose was crushed.
Frondier had struck him without using any aura. Because Antero's body was completely defenseless, devoid of even a sliver of aura. If he had used aura, Antero would have died.
Each and every one of those pathetic sights made Frondier's blood boil.
Frondier gripped Antero’s neck. Even then, he had to be careful not to crush it.
“Just what gives you the right to be so weak? You call yourself a Paladin.”
Antero struggled. Woong! The Magic Tool on his back, the one he called Pegasus, whirred to life.
Frondier found the Pegasus on his back, grabbed it, and crushed it. At least he could use aura for this.
Frondier was desperately controlling his strength, making sure he didn’t kill the man.
“Somewhere out there, people are fighting with everything they have, trying to save even one more life, crying because they can’t save everyone despite their best efforts.”
“What gives you the right to be so weak?”
Antero grabbed Frondier's arm with both hands. Even using all his remaining strength and squeezing out every last drop of his aura, he couldn't break free from Frondier's grasp.
Frondier, afraid of accidentally killing his opponent who was so unbelievably weak, couldn’t even unleash his full strength. His anger continued to mount.
“Don't you have people you need to protect?”