Delicia blinked when she noticed it.
The wooden sword she held had endured dozens of clashes today, but the damage was clearly greater than it should have been.
Vangeance scratched his head and gestured with his hand as if describing a mismatch.
"Your body, your strength, your stats… they're far stronger than your current level suggests. But your sword style is built around soft, flowing movements. Your technique uses grace and efficiency to deal quick damage."
He then looked at his own battered wooden sword and commented.
"When our blades clashed earlier, the force that pushed me back wasn't technique. It was your raw strength."
Delicia listened in silence.
"With that kind of power, you should be fighting in a way that fully uses it."
For a brief moment, Vangeance's mind drifted to an image: Delicia swinging a heavy weapon, a broadsword, an axe, or even a war hammer.
If someone with her strength wielded such a thing, he knew the destructive power would be terrifying.
