Maxwell nodded, a faint smile on his lips. He was satisfied.
With a subtle gesture from Maxwell, Frilo moved around the corpses of the fallen beasts and absorbed their crimson cores one by one, sending them straight into Maxwell's pocket dimension, while Maxwell himself let out a soft grunt as he lowered himself and sat on the dried red ground, raising his head toward the sky.
The young mage's spirit was still vigilant, and his intent scanned the entire environment around himself and Vin, ensuring no monsters interrupted the middle-aged man's fight.
Shing–!
At the not so far distance, away from the sitting Maxwell and the cores absorbing Frilo, Vin fought non-stop, the sound of his sword splitting scales and cleaving beasts echoed through the air. The man's force never dulled, and his breath was steady and rhythmic, movements still fluid even as more Slimanders appeared from every corner of the red valley.
Seeing the occurrence of more Slimanders, Maxwell nodded, unsurprised.
