chapter5

 Sylver stepped into the front yard as Henry's figure loomed out of the mists, the knight's warhorse and himself fully armed, all the rust off his armor and longsword. Fresh flesh and blood clung to the sword, thinking that it had just killed some unlucky man.

　　It had no legs, and its entire body from the hips down seemed to grow on the horse's back, so it looked incongruous. The outline of the man's face was faintly visible under the helmet, but it was not clear except for the scarlet eyes.

　　The filth in the center of the hollow chest throbbed one at a time, and after the triple iron hoop shattered the outermost layer, Henry went from corrupt zombie rider to having the appearance of a man, and only just.

　　Sylver vaguely remembered what he had originally looked like.

　　Henry was a German man, one of the first people Sylver met when he first came to the Pure White World, and he, along with Zoey, gave Sylver his initial teachings when he was at his most uncertain and helpless.

　　He later died. He died just a month after Sylver met him.

　　In that box, they hadn't been able to find Henry's body, but now Sylver knew how he had died - by girdling.

　　The warhorse let out a belligerent neigh, his hooves stomping on the ground and stirring up a dull sound. The knight didn't make a move, he held his sword alone, as if he was scornful of the teenager in front of him, or looking for a weak point that he could break through and kill him with a single blow.

　　Sylver had no time to waste with it here, no matter what the past was like, Henry had turned into the inhuman monster in front of him, forgetting everything from the past.

　　He still had to hurry up and get out of this box to meet up with Victor.

　　So he took the lead and attacked.

　　Sylver's left foot slammed into the ground and darted out forward to meet Henry. At the same time, the longsword came at his head, he raised his hand and blocked it with the handle of the spoon, and with a crunching sound of "ping", the longsword crumbled, the spoon was shattered into countless pieces, and Sylver utilized the huge impact to leap forward again, and grabbed the head of the warhorse's cage with one hand!

　　It was hard to believe how a slightly thin teenager could have such great strength in him, he snapped his five fingers raw into the horse's helmet, leaving deep finger marks on the steel armor, and at the same time swung out the chopsticks in his hand!

　　But Henry blocked it.

　　The longsword crossed his chest with unimaginable speed, blocking the heart that was entangled in black gas and dodging Sylver's fatal blow.

　　The chopsticks slid aside along the face of the sword, the remaining force prying away only a few pieces of armor as Sylver landed on the ground and looked at his right hand, which had been slashed with a gash, and blood was slowly flowing down the back of his hand. It was a cut from the splattered armor.

　　He stared at the knight and took a deep breath.

　　The longer the weapon the more difficult it was to retrieve it quickly, this was clear to all those who had experience in combat, and for a sword this long to be able to retrieve it and put up effective resistance in a split second, the speed was definitely beyond everyone's imagination.

　　Henry had become stronger.

　　The iron hoop that imprisoned the heart seemed to exist like a seal, and with each one that broke apart, its power became stronger.

　　To confirm his suspicions, Sylver drew out a chopstick, clenched it, and charged up once more.

　　This time, he aimed at the face, the only place on Henry's body that wasn't protected by armor besides his heart.

　　The twenty-centimeter-long chopsticks in Sylver's hands turned into a deadly weapon that could make people shiver. Holding the chopsticks in both hands, the teenager plunged the chopsticks in his left hand into the eye of the warhorse the moment he was close to Henry!

　　The chopsticks poked through the solid helmet like poking tofu, piercing through the skin and flesh and passing through the rotting brain, the war horse howled heartbreakingly, and under the intense pain, both front hooves raised violently, and the whole horse stood up almost going berserk!

　　If he hadn't grown with the horse, Henry would have been thrown straight out, and Sylver took advantage of this moment and slashed his right hand so hard that no one could see his movements, only to see the teenager stomping on the horse's flanks and stomach, and backing away instantly after the blow.

　　Withdrawing his attack, Sylver stood to one side and calmed his breathing, it had been too long since he had fought with such intensity and it would take some time for him to get back into the rhythm he used to have.

　　The horse was still neighing from the pain, no matter how much Henry reprimanded him, he did nothing. The chopsticks in his hand turned into pieces, yet they didn't seem to cause any injuries to the knight.

　　But three seconds later, a smooth crack slowly appeared at the junction of Henry's left arm and torso, and black gas-like blood sprayed out crazily, and the whole arm that was chopped off by the root just fell to the ground.

　　And the rattle of the severed limb falling and crushing the dead leaves became the last straw.

　　The knight angrily threw himself up to the sky and let out a long roar, the beating of his heart so frantic that it almost brought out gusts of residual shadows, as sharp as a succession of drumbeats, the second layer of iron hoops was instantly shattered, the warhorse let out a wail and finally quieted down, and the wounds inflicted by the chopsticks flew to heal along with the shattering of the seals.

　　But it wasn't just that, with another layer of restraints missing, the heartbeat once again quickened to new levels, the clacking sound of shattering metal accompanying it, and finally, the layer of iron hoops burst open, allowing the heart to beat with impunity.

　　It broke through two layers in quick succession!

　　The black gas that spewed out from the wound of the broken arm had the life to form the shape of an arm, and the face under the knight's helmet was finally truly clear, with skin and a face no different from that of a living person, but the eyes that were supposed to be azure blue were still scarlet.

　　The black on the armor and the longsword faded completely, all glittering with silver, the patterns intricate and flamboyant, seeming to imply some sort of arcane meaning.

　　An expression of pain finally came to Henry's face as he stared at Sylver in front of him, the muscles in his cheeks quivering as if he recognized who he was and had something to say.

　　But in the end, he raised his longsword once more.

　　Sylver met it once more as well.

　　The fight ended two minutes later, having lifted the final seal, Henry was indeed stronger by more than a hair, and the black mist on his left arm was so intensely corrosive that Sylver had to be careful to make sure it didn't touch him.

　　Henry's sword was faster and sharper, Sylver's eyes couldn't even catch the speed at which he struck it. But it didn't matter, since a long time ago, he didn't need vision when he fought, relying on instincts and intuition that he had used thousands of times in life-and-death situations.

　　When the dinner knife plunged into the heart that was beating furiously at that moment, all sound disappeared.

　　No blood spurted out, as if it had dried up in that heart long ago. Instead, the look of pain on Henry's face disappeared, replaced by a kind of ... relief in a twisted way.

　　Sylver covered the bloodied wound in his side and let go, leaving the unenhanced dinner knife in Henry's heart.

　　A true knight should die by the sword, not some other ridiculous weapon.

　　That was why he had taken the table knife, which was not as good as chopsticks.

　　Black gas dispersed in all directions in wisps from the gaps in its armor, as if it were its fading biological breath. The red light in his eyes finally faded, and the young man before him was reflected in Henry's aquamarine eyes, at the end of his life, he finally recognized Sylver once more.

　　That teenager who had first entered the pure white world many years ago, who was scared to death but still pretended to be indifferent and desperately wanted to live.

　　It had been so long ago that it seemed like a lifetime ago.

　　Has... gone out yet?

　　Henry's eyes gradually blackened, and after his heart stopped beating, the warhorse under it shared the same life system with him, and could no longer support his heavy body, and he fell to his knees with a bang. At this time, the knight stabbed out the last sword in its life.

　　It tried its best to plunge the sword straight into the ground, and just like that, it supported its body and knelt on all four hooves to welcome death. In the end, he did not fall.

　　A true knight would never fall.

　　"You're welcome."

　　Looking at Henry's corpse, Sylver said softly.

　　--You can be relieved as you wish.

　　Finally relaxing, the inexplicable fatigue from deep inside swept over his body instantly, the back of his hand no longer bled, but the blood on the side of his belly had already stained his shirt and pants. Sylver stumbled a little on his feet, feeling his arms and legs were no longer under his control, as light as if he was floating on a cloud.

　　He was familiar with all the rules of the pure white world, so he understood that this was not his body's reaction: the ability of the prisoner to exert his power and the time of his appearance are closely related to the spiritual power of the "master", and he used a lot of power in the battle with Henry, for Gregorio, a newcomer who did not have any reinforcement and training, it would have been difficult to support him. For Gregorio, a newcomer without any strengthening or training, it would have been difficult to support him.

　　Moreover, he had only just returned, his control of strength and body was still very rusty, otherwise, he wouldn't have taken a sword from Henry at the last moment, in the past, he would have been able to dodge it easily.

　　Sylver sighed, somewhat helpless.

　　He used to be the best blade, the sharpest edge, the most powerful sword, the strongest slayer.

　　But now, it seemed like he couldn't live up to his name back then at all.

　　The teenager's body gradually dissipated, and finally turned into an invisible energy fluctuation that was instantly sucked back into Gregorio's left hand by an irresistible force.

　　The plain and ordinary pattern of small grasses floated on the back of Gregorio's hand for a moment and then disappeared, with only the unusual heat telling Gregorio what had just happened.

　　At this moment, the two brothers were walking on the eerie path, the screams and hisses coming from the direction of the hut in the forest were all faintly heard, with the connection of the blood pact, although he was able to sense that Sylver was not in danger, Gregorio still had some indescribable worries.

　　The blood contract is a one-way connection, the passive party suffers damage or directly dies will not have any negative impact on the active party, but if a living, breathing person with whom he has a close relationship has an accident, for Gregorio, who has just entered this place, and is not yet like Sylver, and can treat the death of his companion as a common thing like drinking cold water, it is still a bit hard to accept.

　　Now that he was back. gregorio let his heart drop as he lightly touched the mark on his left hand, feeling the unspeakable exhaustion in his soul so violently that his eyes blinked.

　　"What's wrong?" Marvin asked.

　　"Nothing." Gregorio shook his head, steeled himself, and continued with Marvin, toward the unknown southeast.