"Die, witch!"
The tall Armored Soldier, with a ferocious expression, adopted a rooftop stance and fiercely swung his heavy sword towards the slender witch before him.
The witch appeared to be in her twenties, with a head of short brown hair, and wore a thin iron breastplate. In her hand was a slender rapier.
On the city wall bathed in the red glow of the sunset, the light around the witch rippled like water, and even approaching her one could feel a wave of heat.
Treading on the sandstone-paved walls of Solaburg, stepping over the severely injured and twitching companion on the ground, the Armored Soldier's heavy two-handed sword sliced through the air, so powerful that even the hilt bent slightly.
The wind it stirred lifted the witch's brown short hair.
