Want to smash but not smash.
The most frightening.
Pandro can prove this point well.
"They're having so much fun."
Below the floating town.
In this chaotic scene of pursuit, Ariana seemed detached from it. She wore a simple dress, her hair gently waving in the breeze.
Originally.
She had already taken out cleaning tools, prepared to clean up the torrent of trash Ian brought along, but because everything floated to the sky, the cleaning tools were useless. Watching the two chasing, Ariana couldn't help but smile.
She didn't feel any sense of danger but instead found it amusing that Pandro was trying to suppress his laughter — as a soul, he wouldn't be genuinely hurt by the attack of the Wolf Fang Club.
Of course.
It definitely would hurt.
But knowing it was Pandro who attacked Lady Morgan, implicating Ian, Ariana thought Pandro should learn a lesson from this recklessness.
"This is a precious memory," Ariana mused softly. Then, she suddenly became interested, took out the magic camera Ian had given her from her pocket.
Accompanied by a "click" sound.
Captured the moment when Pandro was hit on the head by the Wolf Fang Club.
The floating clock tower in the background was the perfect backdrop, making this photo's composition artful, certainly the kind of art Ian would appreciate.
And Pandro would probably grimace upon seeing it — this thought made Ariana cover her mouth and laugh, standing on the ground, she exuded peace and harmony.
In stark contrast to the frantic Ian and Pandro above, as if they were not on the same frame, yet from a distance, the picture looked strangely harmonious.
Above the town.
The floating spell was ultimately Ian's magic.
Pandro was evidently miscalculating; even if agile as a genetically modified monkey, he couldn't escape Ian's view no matter how he dodged.
Ian's awareness definitely moved faster than Pandro's body, so wherever Pandro ran, Ian could shift that footing's "foundation" toward himself.
"Damn!"
Realizing the more he ran, the closer he got to Ian, not running, he was directly grabbed by Ian by the collar, Pandro helplessly uttered the human nature's complaints.
"Stop running! I want a reasonable explanation!" Ian seized his collar, pinned him harshly against a bullock cart without bullocks. Dizzy from the hit, before regaining his senses, Ian had already aimed the Wolf Fang Club at his vital spot.
Pandro immediately broke into a cold sweat.
His vital spot might be useless in this world.
Yet.
The memory previously snatched by Ian's monkey thievery was vividly attacking him, staring at the gleaming Wolf Fang Club, he couldn't imagine how painful a hit would be.
"I can explain!"
Pandro's Adam's apple bobbed up and down amidst the gleaming iron spikes.
"I'm really not lying!"
His anxiety let out Ancient English.
"Initially, I truly couldn't remember anything; I slowly recalled later. You see, the names I use are all partial spellings of my original name, which is the best proof of my amnesia!" With a lock of golden hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, Pandro looked indeed sincere.
"Hmm? Initially couldn't remember anything?"
The suspicion in Ian's gaze was strong.
He knew souls in the Misty Illusion Realm gradually lose memory, but as King Arthur being a legendary hero, he surely shouldn't be like ordinary souls.
Faced with Ian's disbelief.
Pandro revealed a bitter smile.
Facial muscles slightly twitching from tension.
"There's a reason for this."
He spoke with a weary tone.
"What reason? A legendary hero's soul loses memory like a wandering soul?"
Ian pursued the question.
Pandro contemplated for a moment, then shook his head somewhat forlornly, "I really don't know what I did, then ended up wandering over here in a daze. It was by staying by your side longer that I slowly recalled some things. Otherwise, I estimate I would completely lose memory of my life."
His words seemed genuine.
However.
Ian couldn't help but furrow his brows.
"Perhaps you could have said this earlier?"
Honestly, Ian was half-convinced, mainly because this guy's acting was sometimes good, sometimes bad; hard to discern when he was delivering Oscar-worthy performances and when he was merely playing a minor role.
"You never asked though." King Arthur blinked his clear eyes, looking so innocent it made one want to punch him. As soon as these words came out, Ian immediately raised the Wolf Fang Club in his hand.
"Still dare to make excuses!"
Ian thought this guy was utterly a nitpicker.
When dealing with nitpickers.
Being merciful is disrespecting steel. Thinking of this, Ian added venom to the spikes on the Wolf Fang Club, causing Pandro's eyes to widen in horror and sweat profusely.
"Don't! I shouldn't have been cheeky!"
King Arthur crossed his arms in front of his face.
His expression turned pale.
Luckily, the Wolf Fang Club remained suspended in the air.
Ian squinted.
"Why could you recover memory by being around me?" Recalling what Pandro had said earlier, Ian felt he caught on to some significant information in his words.
This question made King Arthur's expression become suddenly subtle.
He hesitated for a few seconds.
His gaze drifted towards the magic wand at Ian's waist.
But he didn't answer promptly.
"Because I gave you a name?" Ian interjected, furrowing his brows. This logical assumption made King Arthur's eyes widen and his mouth form a perfect circle.
"What? What did you say?" Pandro's shocked expression looked genuine, even forgetting the Wolf Fang Club pressed against his throat, as if he were learning this information for the first time.
"The name you gave me?"
The Legendary King's expression was extraordinarily vivid.
Ian half-believingly scrutinized this handsome face. As always, this guy's acting wildly fluctuated — moments ago like a poor stage actor, now even subtle tremors in the pupils seemed real, making it impossible to distinguish when he was speaking truthfully and when acting.
How should it be said?
Actually, this situation was understandable.
No truly naive and innocent king exists; Pandro being recorded as Arthur Pendragon and becoming the eternal king of ancient Great Britain.
His acting, mind, and intellect, of course, were top-notch. Whether Eastern or Western, now or past.
Even possibly including the future.
Counter to the leader.
Must possess a profoundly inscrutable heart.
This is the law.
It's the natural order.
Ian was unsure whether to believe Pandro's words.
"Besides this reason, any other reasons?" He didn't explain the process of naming the other, instead targeting the question he had some predictions about.
He slightly released the pressure of the Wolf Fang Club.
Yapandro licked his dry lips, his gaze becoming somewhat profound.
"You should... have already found the truth, right?"
His voice suddenly lowered, as if fearful of someone hearing, "For the living to enter the world of the dead is a rebellion against the order, even Merlin couldn't achieve such a miracle."
"Yet you, as a child, not even touched magic, could do it... it's naturally because you're extraordinary."
Pandro surely knew of Ian's uniqueness long ago.
"Tell me something I don't know?"
Ian raised an eyebrow.
Pandro considered for a moment.
"Alright."
He replied.
"One of your three spirits is the King of the Dead, naturally possessing the power to help souls repair themselves... even your subconscious influence could restore my tattered soul."
Pandro's words were fully packed with information.
However.
Confused Ian's ears seemed only to echo the previous words.
One of the three spirits?
Phew!
Seems familiar!
What a jumble stew this is!