Aint straightened his half-bent waist. He slowly drew his sword with a smooth sound.
A strong stench assaulted his nose.
His skin bristled at the blatant killing intent.
And then.
His aura responded to the intensely unpleasant energy.
<...A magic beast.>
No, that was wrong. Not a magic beast. Magic 'beasts.'
Red pupils emerged one by one from the darkness. Aint put aside his question of 'when did they get here?' for now.
They were 7th-grade magic beasts in the form of giant 3-meter scorpions. And there were dozens of them.
Each one was a formidable opponent that could take on an average knight. These 7th-grade beasts were not to be taken lightly.
"...Why are magic beasts here?"
If the opponent hadn't been Aint Armian.
