The Ruthless Earth Mage (8)

I severed the kneeling black mage’s head with my sword.

─Chop!

With a sword buried in his chest, the black mage couldn’t even cast a spell before his head came off.

Or, to be precise, it would be more accurate to say his head was smashed apart. My sword’s blade had been corroded by his black blood.

“You bastard. How long do you have to go without washing for your blood to turn acidic?”

I flicked the blood off my sword, which was giving off black smoke.

This sword had been my partner for a long time, too, but I had to make sure that black mage bastard was dead before worrying about it. I didn’t want to cut his head off only for him to revive as an undead or grow huge and kick off round three.

─Thump! Roll-roll-roll…….

The black mage’s head spun three hundred and sixty degrees through the air before rolling across the ground.

His eyes were wide open, as if he couldn’t accept his own death. He was really fucking dead, right? As I warily pointed my chipped sword at him, Nefertiti said...