"Ha..."
Opposite the middle-aged knight hesitating whether or not to completely abstain, Herbert held his sword, panting slightly.
"Cough, cough."
Previously he tried his best attack in that moment, and he didn't expect it to be so powerful.
Nor did he expect it to drain so much of his strength, almost like it emptied him entirely.
"So tired..."
Herbert now felt like a salted fish; although his stance still appeared upright, he actually didn't want to move a single finger and just wanted to lie lazily on the ground and recover.
As the Archbishop warned him before, Herbert's body still wasn't ready to bear such an overpowering strength.
He was like a delicate vessel, filled with contraband not meant for its current capacity, and each use would crack this fragile vessel a bit.
He urgently needed a method to improve his physical fitness, and the Molten Hell bathing plan must be put on the agenda quickly!
"But, well, it seems things are a bit different now."
