"Oh, kind sir, thank you for the reminder," Valerie said as she reached up to her head and adjusted the displaced scalp back into place.
The whole process she went through was incredibly natural, as if she were straightening a hat that had been blown askew by the wind.
Watching the girl do all this, the muscles on Roger's cheeks twitched.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
No sooner had he spoken than Valerie, kneeling on the ground, suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood, the scarlet liquid dripping down her chin onto her chest.
Snowy white and bright red.
The two colors mixed together, strikingly conspicuous.
"It's just too much..."
It was so exaggerated that Roger could not stand to watch, lifting the Cursed Sword in his hand.
"Put away your petty tricks, your spiritual power is too weak to affect me."
Having said that, he raised his weapon high.
"Swoosh!"
But when the Cursed Sword came down, Roger struck nothing but air.