The First Magic World War

A Sacred level from the New Continent's eyes lit up, he gave a look to his two companions, and the three of them suddenly accelerated, split in three different directions, and pounced towards Charles like lightning.

Charles's subordinates witnessed this scene and were about to take to the air when they saw that the head of House Mecklen's body flickered, his speed was so fast that it pulled out afterimages. He didn't use any techniques; it was just a punch that blasted through the lower abdomen of a New Continent Sacred level, leaving him with a look of despair, filled with disbelief. Next, an elbow smashed another man's chest, turning his ribcage and internal organs into a pulp; he was not going to survive. Then he reached out to grab the shoulders of the last ambushing Sacred level and tore him in half with his hands!

Charles struck down three Sacred levels with his own hands, shocking not only the Sacred levels from the New Continent but also his own subordinates.

Andreas couldn't help but ask, "How can he be so... fast?"

The breathing technique of the Phoenix General from the Constantine family was known for its speed, but it also definitely couldn't be this fast!

Perhaps Count Constantine could achieve this speed, or even surpass Charles, but Constantine was the top master of the former Black Phoenix Dynasty, and in terms of real strength, he was only slightly inferior to Juno. Charles had just advanced to the Sacred level, not even a minute had passed.

Juno clicked his tongue in amazement and exclaimed loudly, "Charles! How well have you mastered your Quickness Technique?"

Charles didn't speak; he just gestured two fingers to his teacher, then withdrew them and stretched out seven!

Juno shrugged his shoulders and said, "You've stacked the Quickness Technique too much."

Charles also just found out that after advancing to the Sacred level, all Special Abilities would undergo a monumental enhancement. Inside his fifteen Bloody Vortexes, runes were now forming, his Quickness Technique alone had condensed over twenty runes, totaling twenty-seven, which had granted him the lightning-fast speed seen just now.

Of course, aside from speed, Charles had also used other Secret Techniques!

If it were purely based on speed, he definitely couldn't have achieved the results just now.

Montblanc raised his eyebrows; he had also noticed that the three Sacred levels from the New Continent had secretly communicated to launch a surprise attack on Charles, but he had no intention of stopping them. Life in the New Continent was much more brutal than in the Old Continent, so the people of the New Continent were not as honorable in their attacks as those from the Old Continent; they used sneak attacks, group attacks, poison, curses, and all other sorts of extremes, and no one thought there was anything wrong!

Are we already engaged in a fight to the death, yet still need to have reservations?

Montblanc even thought that if Charles were killed by these three, so be it. If they had captured him alive, he definitely would have mocked him for being too naïve and still believing in fair one-on-one combat! In this world, as long as the enemy is killed, who would care about the means?

But what he hadn't expected at all was that the outcome was completely different from what he had thought!

Charles used thunderous methods and a ruthless heart, striking down three Sacred levels, each with a single strike; no one could survive a second strike, no one could live.

Although Montblanc was surprised, having seen many deaths in the New Continent, he didn't think much of it and said indifferently, "Your opponent is me!"

Before Charles could respond, he heard a sharp voice, still with a hint of childishness, shouting loudly, "Daddy! This looks delicious, can I eat it?"

Charles responded indifferently, "Emilia! From the city up ahead as the boundary, everyone outside..."

"You can eat them all."

"This war! I don't need prisoners, nor will I spare any lives."

"I'll let these savages of the New World know!"

"What the hell is a 'reversed scale'."

Montblanc suddenly grew alert, his Fighting Spirit surged to its limit, reaching the twenty-third level. He channeled it into his massive Combat Saber, swirling around him, but he didn't strike anything. The next second, a cute little foot appeared above his head, kicking viciously enough to almost drive his skull into his chest. Montblanc felt like a cannonball falling towards the sea, yet somehow his position shifted and he landed on a ship!

Montblanc rubbed his head, feeling bewildered by that sudden kick, almost believing it could have been from the Evil God.

Having faced countless battles, he forcibly gathered his Fighting Spirit, intending to escape the ship. Montblanc sensed something strange about this vessel and declined to fight in an unfamiliar environment. However, the next moment, he discovered that no matter how he gathered his energy, he couldn't leap into the air, leaving him utterly alarmed.

As Montblanc desperately tried to leave, he saw a person crouching on the ground. Assuming it to be some sneaky enemy, he kicked, and the crouched person grabbed his foot. They exchanged several moves within moments. This person seemed built of solid iron, terribly tough. His Combat Saber struck without effect as the person blocked with bare fists and feet, sparking fiercely; yet, he couldn't cut through. The opponent was also immensely strong and experienced in combat, proving to be a terrifying enemy that made Montblanc increasingly fearful, prompting him to cry out, "Who are you?"

"Gareth Mekelen! The eldest son of Charles Mekelen."

Montblanc cursed, "Wasn't he supposed to duel me? Why dispatch you for a surprise attack? Don't you have any honor?"

Gareth spoke blandly, "Didn't you start with the sneak attack? Besides, I've never seen Father engage in a proper duel! When Father truly fought a duel, it was before I was even his son."

"You missed that era, huh!"

"Also, if you didn't attack me, I wouldn't have struck back."

Montblanc hastily retreated a few steps, and Gareth indeed did not strike. Despite several more attempts, Montblanc couldn't leave the ship, prompting him to ask, "How can I leave?"

Gareth replied, "You'll have to ask my sister! If she permits it, then you can leave."

Montblanc breathed a sigh of relief, although he found Charles' children odd—the brother seemed off, and he suspected the sister was no less strange—as he shouted, "Miss Mecklen, please let me out."

A little girl, who appeared out of nowhere, was sitting nonchalantly on Gareth's shoulder, holding a knife and fork and a silver platter, crying out, "Gareth, brother! Want a piece?"

Gareth flatly answered, "I don't eat such things."

Emilia, holding the platter, countered, "Who are you fooling? We're siblings. Every time I offer you something tasty, you devour it clean. Otherwise, how could you possibly have reached the twenty-third level?"

"Even though the twenty-third level is just a slightly stronger piece of trash!"

Gareth remained silent, having long learned not to argue with his sister.

Montblanc, however, found the comment extremely grating. What did she mean by 'the twenty-third level is just a slightly stronger piece of trash'?

Who are they calling a piece of trash?