I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

Pegasus held nothing back from the very beginning.

Gerald's body rose lightly into the air, his speed breaking through the limits in an instant, transforming into a silver streak that swept across the burning yellow sand.

The quicksand rose with the will of the wind, surging towards the Khan and building layers of restraints around him, trapping him in a cage formed by the quicksand.

The wind and sand are Gerald's strongest shackles at this moment. They are imprisoning the Nightmare King in the most violent way. The sand grains are constantly compressing and spinning, trying to block all of Harandu Khan's space for movement.

The sword, which struck first and arrived later, sliced ​​through the air at near-sonic speed, reaching Harandu Khan and slashing down from above.

However, the Khan remained unmoved. He merely raised his head slightly, drew the two swords from his waist, and used the long sword in his left hand to forcefully block the Pegasus's attack, while pointing the other long sword in his right hand towards the sky.

The next instant, darkness spread out from beneath his feet.

That was the night that belonged only to the Nightmare Khan, a night that swallowed the midday sun.

It was as if the heavens had been torn apart, and the boundary between day and night had been forcibly overturned. The sky above Gerald's head suddenly lost its light, and everything was completely shrouded in endless darkness.

Conquering the earth, conquering nature and the stars—Harandu Khan's fear is the fear of his own powerlessness. Therefore, the weak are meaningless before him; a mere glance is enough to extinguish their will to fight, rendering them unable even to stand upright. For the strong, however, the darkness they inhabit is the embodiment of this fear, an unbreakable force, belonging to the Khan's domain.

But this meant nothing to Gerald.

Although his eyes were swallowed by darkness, the wind was still there; he only needed to close his eyes and amplify all his senses to the limit.

The blade sliced ​​through the night, striking the Khan's dominant hand, and the metallic clang exploded in the darkness.

Gerald's sword, imbued with wind pressure, forcefully deflected the opponent's attack. At the same time, an invisible wind spear swept in from the flank, aiming straight for Harandu Khan's waist.

The Blood Lord's control over blood gave him a new understanding of the wind. At this moment, the wind, as always, took on the role of the attack's secondary force, just as it had when fighting Kal'tsit and Mon3tr simultaneously. It used its sword to parry the Khan's main attack with its longsword, while using the wind to block the Khan's other side, preventing Harandu Khan's twin swords from fully launching an offensive.

But the Khan's twin swords represent a fighting style far beyond imagination, embodying the true meaning of war, born solely for conquest and slaughter.

He stomped his foot, sending the sand and gravel tumbling around. He turned his body and swept his long sword horizontally, the blade precisely severing the structure of the wind just before the wind gun hit, causing the wind gun, which was powerful enough to pierce any steel, to be completely shattered under the blade's light.

The swirling wind, after breaking apart, swirled up the sand and dust on the ground, trying to hold back the Khan's arms and legs as before, buying time for its child to launch an attack.

However, this was all in vain for the Khan. Ignoring the restraints on his body and the swirling wind and sand, he raised his right-hand longsword and slashed at Gerald.

Gerald did not stop; his sword continued to advance, the storm swirling around its blade, drawing a smooth arc in the darkness, and deflecting the Khan's left hand.

He then used the wind to forcefully change the direction of the sword blade, and used the tip of the sword to touch the Khan's long sword that was attacking from the side, instantly neutralizing the attacks from both sides at the same time with skill.

However, this technique can only be used three times.

When Khan tried to solve the problem using the same method for the fourth time, he did not continue to attack relentlessly. Instead, he stopped his forward slash and used his two swords to intercept the trajectory of the blades as they were drawn back.

Then the blade suddenly flipped, shattering the spell-infused sword in mid-air with tremendous force. Immediately afterwards, the left hand thrust forward, the blade slicing horizontally towards Gerald's neck.

What exceptional combat awareness that must be!

Pegasus himself died a full 109 times in order to break Kal'tsit's move.

Even though he knew he was always the one with worse physical fitness, this learning speed was at a level he had never seen before in his life.

But he was not without precautions.

Gerald leaped into the air, the wind gathering beneath his feet and propelling his body through the air in a whirlwind. The figure that had just been under the Khan's blade vanished instantly, and his sword, accompanied by the regeneration of the incantation, slashed back upon landing, aiming straight for Harandu Khan's chest.

The Khan slightly turned his body, crossed his two swords, and parried, deflected the force, and counter-attacked. All the movements were completed in one go, without even a trace of extra breath.

The moment their figures crossed paths, a series of sharp slashing sounds erupted from the darkness. The air trembled as their swords clashed, and the storm and night intertwined. Each strike grazed past them by almost the millimeter, and each collision unleashed a violent shockwave that scattered the surrounding yellow sand.

The storm churned in the darkness, and the sandstorm was swept into the air by the crisscrossing slashes of the sword and the twin blades, turning into golden streaks of light that fell like a torrential rain.

Gerald's sword remained sharp, the direction of the storm shifting with his will. Each strike was faster and more ruthless than the last, the wind spears erratically darting through the darkness, attempting to tear through the Khan's defenses. He no longer relied solely on swordsmanship; instead, he transformed the entire battlefield into his sword, using heaven and earth as its edge, pressing down upon the Khan.

But Haranduhan's twin blades were like an unyielding ancient wall, each swing precise and accurate, cleaving through every oncoming storm. Whether it was a sword blade or a wind spear, his twin blades could completely dismantle it at the most opportune time and the most precise angle, as if he had already mastered Gerald's skills and only needed to crush the struggle in the simplest way.

After another close-quarters exchange, Gerald's breathing became erratic for a moment, his arm went numb from the recoil, and his steps faltered almost imperceptibly.

He knew he had reached his limit.

The best way to gain the upper hand in this battle is to use the wind to create distance between yourself and the Khan, and use ranged spells and the speed of your movement to try to find openings and keep your opponent constantly on the run.

But putting aside the fact that the Khan's strength far exceeded his imagination, his bottom line also did not allow him to use the sky as a cradle to protect himself when facing such an opponent.

But if we really want to talk about the current situation... even exchanging injuries is a luxury and a delusion.

He knew very well that in the instant he attempted to exchange blows, his body would be pierced by a long knife, and the next moment, another long knife would reach his neck, ending his life there—giving him no chance to continue.

Learn.

The only option is to continue learning Haranduhan's techniques, just as his opponent is also learning and countering them; the longer it drags on, the better.

And just as if responding to his idea, the token of friendship he had obtained by defeating the Blood Demon Lord on his chest was now radiating a slight warmth.

The blood belonging to the Blood Demon slowly flowed down from the cloth on Gerald's shoulder, gradually entering his body and beginning to repair his nearly depleted power—before being discovered by the cloth and forcibly absorbed back into his body.

But that's enough.

Under Haranduhan's almost ecstatic gaze, Gerald conjured another longsword made of wind in his left hand, and then he struck an almost bizarre pose.

—His demeanor was exactly the same as that of the Nightmare Khan before him.

--------

For nightmares, darkness is their friendliest companion.

Therefore, the Nightmare Army, which was blowing horns and beating war drums in the rear, could still clearly see everything happening on the battlefield.

Their army stretched out in a line on the sand dunes, ready to charge at any moment in case of an ambush—yet two whole hours had passed, and their Khan was still fighting the young Pegasus. Not even a single beast had been seen on the desert, let alone any ambush.

That's why almost all nightmares simply watch the scene before them in silence.

No one had ever seen an opponent who could fight their leader to this extent, even though they were all aware of the Khan's obvious appreciation for talent.

Using his twin swords, he unleashed a double-blade technique, and based on his own usage and combat experience, he instantly developed a complete set of tactics to counter the Khan's attacks. Although most of them were defensive, both the strange sword that could be reassembled and the inexhaustible wind caused the Khan's subsequent attacks to stall for a period of time.

And because both swords could change according to the Pegasus's will, Gerald once even broke through the Khan's defenses with a surprise attack, leaving an extremely long battle scar on the Khan's helmet.

Considering his apparent age, this goes beyond simply being described as a genius.

Can you do that?

Standing at the forefront, Nightmare, a trusted confidant of the Khan, turned to his comrade with a somber expression, seeking some validation from him.

The other person simply shook their head: "To be honest, let's not even talk about the answer that even an idiot could see."

"Looking at the battlefield alone... I can't even tell which one is our esteemed Khan for a moment."

--------

I don't know how much time has passed.

The cloth on his shoulder, which had absorbed blood from defeating the Blood Lord and several other Sarkaz, had finally recovered from its oversaturated state and was now in need of replenishment.

The intense deconstruction and endless collisions were gradually pushing his body to the brink of exhaustion. Even though the wind could still propel him forward and he could still fight with his sword, his spirit was beginning to crumble.

However, just as the Khan's twin swords were about to fall again, he stopped.

It wasn't a mistake in the battle; rather, Haranduhan himself voluntarily stopped wielding his sword. In the instant the darkness completely dissipated, he slowly sheathed his weapon.

"Your condition is not good enough right now."

His voice sounded exceptionally clear amidst the lingering effects of the sandstorm.

"You've never been to the desert, nor have you had a proper rest. Only battles fought when you're in top condition are meaningful."

Gerald narrowed his eyes slightly, watching the Khan's motionless posture, then gently exhaled, adjusted his breathing, and slowly lowered the sword in his hand.

“…Then let’s continue later,” he replied.

Upon hearing this, Haranduhan removed his helmet, revealing his first genuine expression in the already dark night sky—a satisfied smile.

He stepped forward, reached out, and grabbed Gerald's wrist: "Call me Harandu Khan, or Khan, it doesn't matter. You have the right to choose how you are addressed, strongman—no, Gerald."

The Khan's grip was steady and powerful, as if the weight of the earth were transmitted through his hand. His gaze swept over Gerald for a moment, then he tilted his head slightly, his tone tinged with doubt: "You look like a Kuranta, of Nightmare blood?"

He frowned slightly, scrutinizing Gerald closely, but quickly dismissed the idea: "No...it doesn't look like it. I've never seen a silver-haired member of my tribe."

“I come from Kazimir.”

Gerald nodded: "I'm not here for revenge, I just want to fight the Khan who has conquered the world."

However, the other party's attitude was beyond his expectations.

Haranduhan's gaze paused slightly, as if searching his memory for traces of the place name. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he were deep in thought.

Then, in the next moment, he suddenly realized something, his tone as calm as if he had completely understood the simplest thing:

"So that's the place."

Chapter 8: A Glimpse A Thousand Years Ago (4K5)

The swirling yellow sand finally subsided amidst the aftermath of the battle, and the Nightmare Army's march slowly came to a halt, with campfires rising everywhere.

The warriors removed their heavy armor, draping their cloaks casually over their spears and swords. The army's supplies were arranged in an orderly fashion, with water bags and wine kept separate, because every drop of water was meticulously counted; they were more precious than gold.

That night, the Khan's tent was brightly lit, and the discussions about skills, accompanied by drinks, never stopped, continuing even after all the nightmares had been intoxicated.

And Gerald thus witnessed for the first time what it was like to be drunk in a dream.

The Khan was a great drinker and could be considered a hero.

For nightmares, alcohol is like the blood flowing in their bodies. Although the alcohol content is not high due to the distillation process, once the quantity is accumulated, it becomes an astronomical number.

Not to mention the situation of chatting and drinking with that Khan.

The environment has a tremendous impact on people. Compared to a meal or a garnish on the way to war, being able to drink with historically renowned figures is truly an exhilarating experience.

Since the fight must continue, you have the right to rest in your tent, drink water, eat meat, and recover your strength.

These are the words the conqueror said to him.

The other man was still wearing his thick leather robe and armor, even in the scorching desert. His helmet was removed, revealing his battle-hardened and weathered face.

The aroma of the liquor filled the tent. Gerald's fingers gently traced the rim of his glass. He was still conscious, but his body had become sluggish under the influence of alcohol.

The firelight outside the camp remained bright, giving the Nightmare Army a respite. The heavy breathing mingled with the sandstorm, making the night exceptionally quiet.

If he were to meet a historical figure, what would he ask? He might have thought about this question in his previous life, but for Gerald in this life, all he wants to know is about combat techniques.

After a moment's thought, Gerald asked, "Your army intends to conquer Sargon next, is that right?"

"Indeed, the reputation of that King of All Laws still resounds even in the East."

These were Haranduhan's own words after several rounds of drinks, tinged with a long-lost sense of exhilaration: "You knew this, which is why you appeared in the desert, isn't it?"

“I know that you came here for the sake of the Heavenly Path.”

Gerald knew that this message was passed down from the descendants of the Nightmare in later generations, and that it might seem a bit out of line in the present day.

But the Khan didn't mind, and instead laughed heartily: "Haha, I knew it! You have a bit of a nightmare aura about you, don't you?"

He poured the liquid from the wine sac down his throat, swallowing the spicy taste in one gulp. After wiping his mouth with a bold gesture, he said, "Although it's so thin that you can hardly feel it, there's no doubt that you don't belong to that group of Pegasus. You're more like us, more like me."

"...If I had to say, I guess so."

……

Gerald learned two pieces of information during his medical examination on Rhodes Island.

First, his physique is extremely abnormal compared to a normal Pegasus, especially compared to Margaret, who is also a Pegasus and is temporarily residing on Rhodes Island.

Not to mention that the density of Originium crystals in the blood is incredibly low, it wouldn't cause any problems even in high concentrations of Originium.

Moreover, to truly trace back to the source—his blood is like a top-notch hodgepodge, almost a mixture of all sorts of unorthodox and even completely unseen things, yet the final product still yields to the main bloodline, making it resemble a Pegasus.

In short, even Kal'tsit had never seen anything like this before. The result of the combination was almost unrecognizable from ordinary Kurantas, with a genetic similarity of only about 98.0%, which could be considered as belonging to an alien race.

This report had left him feeling somewhat confused.

Ayfanier felt equally confused, because although his test results were somewhat abnormal, they were not to the same extent as Gerald's.

Moreover, this child is indeed said to have the purest female demon bloodline, a conclusion that has been verified by the rulers of various royal courts.

That's what Kal'tsit said.

Fortunately, the other royal courts couldn't gain any advantage over you, especially considering that you didn't accept the Blood Demon King's invitation.

Although she couldn't understand what the sentence meant, Kal'tsit glanced at the Doctor, who also had access to his data, and wondered what he was thinking.

The second point is an extension of the first point.

Kal'tsit believed that this situation was similar to a story she had heard in the Great Yan Dynasty, except that so far she could only find this one case, and this idea was currently just a hypothesis.

—He has a part of some giant beast in him.