stroke.
Although they were in the middle of a battle, both friends and foes froze to observe the riveting scene as if time had stopped.
A deadly blow—and one that would slice a monster as meaty as an ogre in half.
A “whoa” escaped someone’s lips. The battlefield had fallen so silent that everyone heard it.
“…I can’t believe it. He must be a mythril plate or maybe orichalcum—no… Could he be adamantite?”
To cut an opponent in two—it wasn’t an impossible move, per se. Someone who trained up a very targeted set of skills or who had a powerful magical weapon could probably pull it off. But to hold a gigantic, two-handed great sword in one hand and give it enough momentum to cut someone in half would be difficult. That was common sense. A two-handed sword was used with two hands and relied on mass and centrifugal force to cut—they weren’t about slicing and dicing with physical strength.
So the only way to explain what Ainz had just done was to conclude that his sword was endowed with incomparable magic, that he had more strength in one arm than most warriors had in two, or both.
The ogres that had stopped in their tracks, shocked by the scene in front of them, began to backpedal with fear written on their faces. Ainz advanced one step to fill in the distance.
“What’s the matter? Not going to attack?” His quiet, casual voice floated over the battlefield.
Even just that question scared the ogres—because they’d just seen how overwhelming the gap in strength was between Ainz and them.
Ainz moved in on a second ogre so quickly it was hard to believe he was wearing full plate armor.
“Uooogh!” The ogre raised a hoarse voice in what could have been either a shriek or a battle cry as it readied its club against Ainz, but anyone would have recognized it was moving too slowly.
As Ainz closed in, the great sword in his left hand moved as if he were going to lightly brush the ogre away. Its upper body went tumbling through the air to land somewhere completely different from its lower body.
He’d cut the monster in two with a single horizontal slice.
“Momon… Are you a monster?”
Witnessing another riveting scene, nobody had any objections to what Dyne had said.
“Okay, and as for the rest…” Ainz stepped forward, and the other ogres, ugly faces frozen in fear, moved farther back.
The goblins that had taken a large detour to the side got around and attacked Peter and the others. The Swords of Darkness had lost themselves in amazement but now had to spring into action.
Peter readied his broadsword and large shield and ran to meet the fourteen-plus goblins. The head of the one out in front went spinning off after a lunging swipe. Dodging the fountain of blood, Peter closed in on the rest of the goblins.
“Eat this!” A goblin bared its yellowed teeth as its foul, throaty scream filled the air. Peter easily took a goblin club strike with his shield. The hit that came from the side got blocked and repelled with a loud crack thanks to the magic reinforcing his armor.
“Magic Arrow!” Two glowing shots of magic nailed the goblin trying to hit Peter from behind, and it collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Half of the goblins surrounding Peter ran at the remaining three Swords of Darkness. None of them went to attack Narberal, who was standing next to the gale-force wind of death named Ainz.
Lukrut had tossed aside his composite longbow and whipped out a short sword. Both he and the mace-wielding Dyne dashed into Ninya’s line of fire to provide cover for him.
The fight between Lukrut and Dyne and five goblins was about evenly matched. If they paced themselves, they could probably beat them one by one, but it would take a while. Lukrut had taken a club to one arm and was tolerating the pain with an obvious grimace as he stabbed his short sword into a gap in a goblin’s leather armor. Dyne had taken a bit of a beating, and although his movements had become
Although they were in the middle of a battle, both friends and foes froze to observe the riveting scene as if time had stopped.
A deadly blow—and one that would slice a monster as meaty as an ogre in half.
A “whoa” escaped someone’s lips. The battlefield had fallen so silent that everyone heard it.
“…I can’t believe it. He must be a mythril plate or maybe orichalcum—no… Could he be adamantite?”
To cut an opponent in two—it wasn’t an impossible move, per se. Someone who trained up a very targeted set of skills or who had a powerful magical weapon could probably pull it off. But to hold a gigantic, two-handed great sword in one hand and give it enough momentum to cut someone in half would be difficult. That was common sense. A two-handed sword was used with two hands and relied on mass and centrifugal force to cut—they weren’t about slicing and dicing with physical strength.
So the only way to explain what Ainz had just done was to conclude that his sword was endowed with incomparable magic, that he had more strength in one arm than most warriors had in two, or both.
The ogres that had stopped in their tracks, shocked by the scene in front of them, began to backpedal with fear written on their faces. Ainz advanced one step to fill in the distance.
“What’s the matter? Not going to attack?” His quiet, casual voice floated over the battlefield.
Even just that question scared the ogres—because they’d just seen how overwhelming the gap in strength was between Ainz and them.
Ainz moved in on a second ogre so quickly it was hard to believe he was wearing full plate armor.
“Uooogh!” The ogre raised a hoarse voice in what could have been either a shriek or a battle cry as it readied its club against Ainz, but anyone would have recognized it was moving too slowly.
As Ainz closed in, the great sword in his left hand moved as if he were going to lightly brush the ogre away. Its upper body went tumbling through the air to land somewhere completely different from its lower body.
He’d cut the monster in two with a single horizontal slice.
“Momon… Are you a monster?”
Witnessing another riveting scene, nobody had any objections to what Dyne had said.
“Okay, and as for the rest…” Ainz stepped forward, and the other ogres, ugly faces frozen in fear, moved farther back.
The goblins that had taken a large detour to the side got around and attacked Peter and the others. The Swords of Darkness had lost themselves in amazement but now had to spring into action.
Peter readied his broadsword and large shield and ran to meet the fourteen-plus goblins. The head of the one out in front went spinning off after a lunging swipe. Dodging the fountain of blood, Peter closed in on the rest of the goblins.
“Eat this!” A goblin bared its yellowed teeth as its foul, throaty scream filled the air. Peter easily took a goblin club strike with his shield. The hit that came from the side got blocked and repelled with a loud crack thanks to the magic reinforcing his armor.
“Magic Arrow!” Two glowing shots of magic nailed the goblin trying to hit Peter from behind, and it collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Half of the goblins surrounding Peter ran at the remaining three Swords of Darkness. None of them went to attack Narberal, who was standing next to the gale-force wind of death named Ainz.
Lukrut had tossed aside his composite longbow and whipped out a short sword. Both he and the mace-wielding Dyne dashed into Ninya’s line of fire to provide cover for him.
The fight between Lukrut and Dyne and five goblins was about evenly matched. If they paced themselves, they could probably beat them one by one, but it would take a while. Lukrut had taken a club to one arm and was tolerating the pain with an obvious grimace as he stabbed his short sword into a gap in a goblin’s leather armor. Dyne had taken a bit of a beating, and although his movements had become
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