I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

The power of Originium surged silently in his blood, and his bones, muscles, and even skin were sculpted by the wind at this moment. The airflow quickly gathered with his movements, gently lifting him and forming an invisible barrier to minimize air resistance.

He is now a completely different person from the one he once was.

After all, the days spent with the ruler of the royal court are actually quite deceptive.

Although it's difficult to describe the process in detail, since he established a close relationship with Lamaren, he has hardly ever experienced a lack of strength from that piece of cloth, nor has he ever needed to expend his energy at any time.

A few years ago, even lingering at high altitudes for a short time would have taken a considerable amount of effort, let alone traveling at supersonic speeds like he is now. If Kazimierz had met him now, things might have been different.

At this moment, he could even clearly distinguish the "age" of these winds—those that had just rushed down from the top of the clouds still carried a bit of youthful restlessness, while the wind blowing from the valley was full of steady and profound power.

In terms of skill, after his battle with Theresa, his imitation of Muirses' clones had officially reached a high level. Even just three phantoms used for close-range attacks represented a significant improvement for him.

If I were to encounter General Felin now, and try to fight him squarely, it might not be an impossible challenge.

An hour passed quickly.

As Gerald approached Kazdel's airspace, the smell in the wind changed.

The air was no longer purely crisp and cold, but rather a heavy scent mixed with rust, gunpowder smoke, and Originium dust.

When the fog of war dissipated, the city resembled a steel forest growing from the depths of the earth, with rugged and twisted towers and fortresses intertwined, like some kind of alien silently lurking under the eternal shadows.

The land outside the city was riddled with holes, and the wind and sand swirled up dry dust. The Originium veins were exposed on the ground, shimmering with an ominous glow like torn flesh.

So he landed early and found a secluded spot nearby, where he planned to send a message back to Theresa.

If everything goes smoothly, Theresa should also receive a directional marker and location. If she were to rely on her strength to directly storm into Kazdel, Ramaren would likely be in deep trouble; it would be better to plan ahead.

Just as he was about to send the message, a very familiar scent came on the wind.

He smelled the same scent at least 109 times.

Without a moment's hesitation, he changed direction and followed the wind's path.

……

Abandoned station.

Outside Kazdel, there are abandoned sites that few people dare to set foot on.

This place is neither as bustling as the city center nor as a fortress in a war zone, but rather a gray area abandoned in the cracks of time. A large number of exiled villains, deserters, and even scum whom Kazdel could not tolerate have taken up residence here, forming a wasteland without order or rules.

The dilapidated buildings lay collapsed haphazardly, with piles of steel bars and concrete forming a natural maze. The air was thick with the stench of decay and sewage, and the walls were covered with crooked markings, a stark reminder that no one was welcome here.

However, Gerald had no intention of staying there for long.

He swept past the ruins and rubble, traversing the intricate network of desolation.

Before the thugs entrenched in the abandoned station could react, they only felt a gust of wind sweep past, and when they looked up, the figure had already disappeared into the distance.

“…What was that just now?”

"Did you see a ghost?"

The fierce-looking men exchanged glances, but none of them had the courage to give chase. They knew that the area was inhabited only by desperate criminals who couldn't survive in the city.

The gust of wind just now—it was so strong that they couldn't even keep up with their sight.

But Gerald's attention was no longer on the vagrants; he simply moved at great speed through the ruins, chasing after the lingering scent in the wind.

Until the view ahead suddenly changed.

Gerald stopped and narrowed his eyes slightly.

At first glance, it appears to be just a pipe leading to the end, but a quick check of the wind reveals that it is a defensive zone almost entirely composed of traps. Wooden stakes, tripwires, barbs, poison nails, and even several handmade explosive devices are densely and discreetly scattered across the ground and in hidden corners.

The clever double deception was not intended to kill the attackers, but to buy time for the attackers to escape.

The wind flowed from his fingertips, and a barely audible "click" sounded. All the traps hidden in the shadows were disarmed, one after another losing their effectiveness.

He stepped into it, and the surrounding environment was torn and shaped by the wind, opening a path for him to move forward.

As Gerald slowly approached the end, his gaze swept across the corner, and he saw only a trembling figure.

It was a woman, curled up in the shadows, her body trembling violently, her arms tightly wrapped around herself, her fingertips white from the force of her grip.

The monster behind her stood firmly in her way, emitting a mocking growl at the Pegasus, but the trembling crystal had already told its enemy everything. A thick stench emanated from her, a mixture of long-uncleaned blood and decay, and the pungent smell of Kazdel dust.

Gerald slowly stopped and looked down at her.

He recognized her face—although she was in terrible condition, her eyes still revealed a kind of mechanical calm and decisiveness.

"...How did the general who led the three-nation coalition rise from hell, and how did he end up in this predicament?"

he called softly.

The woman in the corner trembled even more violently. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she could only let out weak gasps, as if she couldn't even form the simplest words.

Without hesitation, Pegasus used the wind to pin the monster to the ground, walked to Felin's side, and tore open her upper garment—the wound he had previously inflicted on her spleen had now completely disappeared.

Moreover, there were almost no serious wounds on her body, only minor injuries.

"Rapid healing? That seems to explain why your strength has fallen to this level."

He realized as soon as he grabbed her wrist that General Felin still had fighting spirit, but her strength at this moment was probably not even as good as the worst Sarkaz mercenary.

Difficult to handle.

This is too difficult.

Looking at the lynx lady in front of him who had fought against the Sarkaz, resurrected from the brink of death, and even picked up his ancestor, Gerald could only sigh in the end.

"Can you say something? If you don't, I'll have to seriously consider my next move. I might even have to offer you up to the Sarkaz Demon King. Do you want that outcome?"

"……Who are you."

"Ok?"

Felin coughed a few times, barely managed to lift his head, and with all his might pulled his arm away, panting as he asked:

"who are you?"

Chapter 81 Enjoy a small dish first

That once awe-inspiring aura has now been completely devoured by the hardships and weariness of life.

Forget about returning to the state she was on the battlefield; she has even lost the strength and courage to hold a sword. In his presence, she is like a lamb to the slaughter, and a single sword strike could take her life.

“Your last death was orchestrated by my own hand.” Gerald ripped the man’s nearly torn clothes off his upper body and put them back in their place. “Although I don’t know if you were acting or if you’ve really lost your memory—”

"Roar--!!!!"

A deep roar came from the side.

The moment he heard the sound, he instinctively pushed his Originium Arts to their limit.

The wind raged across Mon3tr's body, its crystallized limbs stretched to their limits by the tightening air, crumbling inch by inch in an instant. Sharp claws struggled wildly in the air, but were completely unable to break free from that invisible suppression.

Its body continued to sink, and the ground was crushed by its massive body, as if it were being repeatedly crushed and shattered, until the roar turned into a painful wail.

"At least it seems to remember, and not only that, it remembers very clearly."

Gerald rubbed his furrowed brow with his fingers. Even breathing was painful in this room, and he had to send out a wisp of wind to carry the smell away.

This is complete chaos.

Neither killing her nor informing Theresa would be a good option, since he had no direct contact with the Sarkaz. From the Banshee's perspective, she could throw her head to Ramallen as a consolation to the deceased.

But this state of dying and being reborn... if he could keep reviving, he couldn't say what might happen in the future.

"Now, it's my turn to ask you the same question."

Gerald's voice remained calm and indifferent: "You'd better think carefully before answering me—who are you?"

Kal'tsit remained silent.

She lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously gripping the dust on the ground, and after a long while, she slowly exhaled.

"Kal'tsit, that's my name."

After regaining consciousness in this body, she had to find a way to survive in the jungle—perhaps the previous individual had experienced a similar state, or perhaps not, but the disordered memories and significant physical weakness still made her suffer terribly.

The memories left to her by the previous individual have not yet been fully processed; she must survive until all the information is filled in.

But in this situation, she happened to encounter the very being who had killed her.

It is arguably the worst possible, unsolvable deadlock.

We have no choice but to go along with him and comply with his demands; only in this way can we have a glimmer of hope.

"Have you lost your memory?" Gerald asked.

“Most likely,” Kal'tsit said in a low voice, her tone as mechanical as ever. “There are gaps in my memory, and the missing parts may be related to short-term loss of consciousness. The recovery time is unknown, and the symptoms are incomplete memory retention. I can understand language and various kinds of knowledge and skills, but there is a clear disconnect between my emotions and past experiences.”

She lowered her eyelids, her gaze falling on her dusty palms, and slightly moved her fingers:

"My condition is worse than expected. My strength has decreased, my stamina is severely lacking, and my muscle coordination is disordered. I will not be able to recover my combat ability in a short time. My damaged nervous system is still adapting, but... I am still 'Kal'tsit,' at least from an individual perspective, that is certain."

He squinted slightly, the sound of the wind echoing in his ears, passing through her slender chest, conveying to him the distinct rhythm of her heartbeat.

His heartbeat is steady, but it's also possible that the other person is only telling the truth selectively. He still needs to test some key information himself.

"Take it."

Gerald drew his sword from his waist and tossed it to Kal'tsit.

The moment the sword landed in her hand, Kal'tsit paused for a moment, then began to try to get used to its weight.

But just by holding it, she could feel the muscles in her hand stiffening uncontrollably.

But Tianma didn't give her much of a chance to adapt.

Her intuition caught a whiff of something amiss, but before her somewhat stiff brain could even process it, the wind had already transformed into a sword, slashing down towards her from above.

Dodge? Parry? Strike?

Kal'tsit's fighting instincts caused countless possible responses to flash through her mind simultaneously.

She could step back and dodge the fatal blow with minimal effort; she could grit her teeth and block it, using the angle of her blade to deflect the wind's force and wait quietly for the opening of the opponent's next attack; or she could choose to parry, using the blade to deflect the wind's attack in a tricky way, causing Gerald's sword to strike at the wrong angle.

But her body couldn't do any of those things.

Perhaps compared to the previous individual, her reaction speed is only a fraction of a second slower now... but that fraction of a second is enough to kill her.

She could only choose the simplest method, awkwardly dodging Pegasus's attack by sidestepping.

In a split second, Kal'tsit made the right choice, grabbing her sword and rolling to narrowly avoid the wind blade attack. However, the next moment, she saw the blade, which was meant to strike her neck, instead slash at the ceiling above her.

boom!

The heavy building materials were split in two by the wind, the huge cracks looked like they had been cleaved by a sharp blade, and the broken ceiling debris collapsed and fell, then was caught by the wind manipulated by Pegasus and gently placed on the ground.

Kal'tsit's pupils suddenly dilated a few degrees.

If that sword had struck her neck, she would be dead now.

Her heart clenched, then she gritted her teeth, readjusting her sword stance, searching for any opening in her opponent's defenses. At the same time, she shouted:

"Mon3tr!!"

"Roar--!"

The command from its master briefly freed it from the wind's restraints. Its limbs suddenly strained, its crimson pupils instantly locking onto Gerald, and it pounced towards the enemy like lightning.

Snap, snap.

The first sound was the monster being stopped by the wind wall. The figure that had been charging forward with momentum seemed so vulnerable under his current control. He could easily turn it into a trembling creature lying on the ground without much effort.

The second sound came from Kal'tsit's sword; a light flick sent numbness through her fingers, leaving mottled bloodstains on the hilt. His sword spun several times in the air before embedding itself in the wall, resonating with a trembling sound.

At the same time, Gerald appeared in front of Kal'tsit, his right hand reaching out lightly and effortlessly grabbing her throat.

"Uh……!"

The hand on her neck showed no sign of force; it seemed to be merely a gesture of conquest, signifying his complete victory in the recent battle.

So much so that Kal'tsit could now breathe in the fresh air that the wind had blown into the room without any obstruction, quietly waiting for what was to happen next.

"I can give you a chance to live, Kal'tsit."

Pegasus's golden eyes were filled with disappointment, but he quickly concealed this emotion by removing his right hand from Kal'tsit's neck, causing her to stumble and fall back to the ground.

"I'll help you recover your body, find you a suitable place to live, so you can live a normal life without being discovered," Gerald said, emphasizing each word. "You'll have time to slowly regain your memories and do what you want, if you can."

"...What would be the price?"