The Snort that came from behind him was loud and clear in the quiet Museum.
Zane turned back to see Harlan standing at the side looking at him. He smiled softly,
"Do you have anything to add, an advice perhaps."
The white haired youth had a condensing look on his face, probably due to the words that Zane had just said, he was holding a sword in his left hand. The sword was 1m long, its body slender, strong and pitch black like an expanse of limpid water in autumn.
The fuller of the sword was heavy, whereas the blade of the sword itself was sharp and thin like a cicada's wings and was suffused with a sharp shine that was dazzling.
It did not feel like an ordinary sword, even staring at it for so long caused Zane to feel as if there was an icy cold prickling pain in the back of his head.
"If you are not a fan of fighting, it would do you good to give up right now." The youth's voice was indifferent with a hint of resolution.