The Summoning Genius of the Necromancer School
The tentacles filled the air densely as they descended.
Simon, with his cloak fluttering, swung his great sword with his right hand.
The sky split apart as dozens of tentacles were severed in one stroke, tumbling onto the deck.
“......?!”
Pinch's expression hardened sharply as he watched the falling tentacles.
Suddenly, the disparity in power shifted.
Just moments ago, he had been overwhelming his opponent, but now the atmosphere had changed entirely.
As Pinch unconsciously took a step back, Simon's new form reached him like lightning from behind.
“...... What!”
Swish!
Before Pinch could pull back, Simon raised his great sword upward faster.
Pinch's right arm flew into the air, spraying blood.
“Gah, gahhh!”
Pinch writhed in agony.
“My arm! My arm!”
Despite the extreme pain, Pinch felt a sense of confusion.
Why was he unable to recover, just like those tentacles earlier? His gaze fell upon his severed arm.
It had changed, as if the part cut by the sword had begun to decay, no longer a part of him.
“Give up.”
Simon, wearing a skull helmet, effortlessly held his great sword upright with one hand.
His shadowless green cloak fluttered in the wind.
“Next, I will take your head.”
“......!”
Overwhelmed, Pinch felt a deep fear and dread towards his much younger junior.