Two Chances

Northern smiled peacefully as he watched Oland struggle to his feet.

He was incredibly patient with the officer, waiting without complaint until he had finished materializing a long, clean silver blade with cross guards that stood out because of their length.

The blade looked like a claymore but did not have the same length. Northern would fit it into something like a longsword at best.

Although he worried for Oland, a couple of minutes ago, the officer was summoning with his right hand, which had now been lost. As a result, the summoning was a failure.

Now, he had to fight with his left and only remaining hand.

Northern worried if he'd be able to give his best in such a state.

'Should I not have gone for the left instead?'

Oland held his sword to the front of his face, observing the spark in Northern's eyes, his voice cautiously approaching.

"Please… I will do anything…"