The Power of Hell

"The world is so unpredictable…"

Ominous magic crawled out from the shadows. After combining with evil intent that took tangible form, this magic transformed into the black mist of death from Hell itself. All this black mist gathered upon my fingers, twirling and condensing itself into an ominous physical representation of death.

"Kill him!"

"Don't let him finish that spell!"

Just this magic and black mist combining already created a roaring skeleton head. This magic was so threatening without even being the completed form of the spell? This was something ordinary people couldn't understand.

The Swift Sword gang's boss didn't even need to give this command. Even an ordinary bandit would understand what to do when witnessing such a terrifying scene.