Chapter 223 - Unwilling

Leonel's mind went blank. Was he really going to die here?

He was unwilling. Even more unwilling than he felt when his bloodline shackles tried to force him to take a step back. He was continuously roaring in his heart.

However, his body was really in no state to move. No matter how unwilling he was, there was a limit to what will could accomplish.

'He's still alive?' Lamorak raised an eyebrow.

He still didn't manage to kill Leonel after going all out like this?

Just when he wanted to swing again, though, a voice suddenly called out to stop him.

"Hold on, Sir Lamorak. There's still some value in questioning this young man, don't you think?"

"Questioning him? For what, exactly?"

"Don't you think there are still some odd points about this? If he really was a spy, his actions are a bit too odd. Plus, I'm sure you know it's not possible for our Camelot to not have a single spy within it, right? With such a high value spy like this young man, why would he come here on his own instead of relying on one of those connections to establish a footing first?"

Lamorak felt that Aliard's words made sense.

If he thought about it, the reason he was so hostile to Leonel was because of his weird actions. The moment they began to question him, he suddenly became defensive and even jumped back, broadening a ten meter radius between them.

At that moment, he had already assumed Leonel to be a spy. But, from another angle, would a real spy really act so obviously?

Lamorak frowned. But in the end, his gaze turned resolute as he raised his mace once more.

In truth, the fact that he had any consciousness to speak of was shocking enough. Maybe if his spirit wasn't so great, his thoughts would have already faded.

Leonel's mind drifted, looking toward the large, complicated Dream Sculpt hanging in the air above him. It looked like a maze of golden and silver lines. If one had to explain it in just a few words, it would be like if one created a complex network of tunnels beneath a planet's surface, then took everything away but the tunnels themselves.

In truth, it was incomplete. This Dream Sculpt was none other than the Natural Force Art? of the Force Crystal Mine Core. It was about 99% to completion, but that final percentage point felt like an insurmountable mountain to Leonel. He felt that even if he spent years meditating on it, it wouldn't do him any good.

Leonel fell into a trance staring toward the Natural Force Art before he realized what was happening. This always seemed to happen when he looked at this Dream Sculpt. He wasn't sure why it was it happened, but all he knew was that falling into this trance lessened his pain even more, it almost felt somewhat refreshing.

In the outside world, Lamorak's mace reached its apex.

Aliard sighed and shook his head. He didn't feel that it was worth it to have a clash of ideologies with a Knight of the Round Table over someone as insignificant as Leonel. Plus, the words he spoke were true. There was nothing wrong with his analysis.

However, just as Lamorak was about to swing downward just one more time, the fourth coincidence he had been battling against seemed to occur.

At first, Leonel was nothing but a bloody mess. But in the next instant, a boundless light suddenly radiated out from his body. It was as though the light wanted to pierce the skies above. Its presence alone made the few clouds disperse, tearing them apart into rippling waves.

Lamorak froze, as did Aliard and the rest.

The light didn't last for long. It also didn't come with an oppressive, unbridled aura. It was actually quite gentle, gentle to the point many somehow felt tears welling in their eyes. There chests were overwhelmed by feelings of love and care, yet none of them could grasp where this feeling was coming from.

At that moment, Leonel's body was finally visible once again. It was still the same, bloodied mess. But, there were odd, fluttering white feathers falling around him like gentle drops of rain.

Each of the white feathers looked pure beyond belief, radiating a gentle golden light as they fell onto Leonel's body one after another.

Under the shocked eyes of the spectators, as every feather fell, the wounds on Leonel's body seemed to slowly close as well... However, with such a slow pace... How could there possibly be enough time to recover before Lamorak's mace fell?