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Galahad’s hands gripping the bow trembled unsteadily.
Obviously, he knew. He knew that there was nowhere to hide or escape in this cramped hall.
Even if there was an escape route, would Galahad be able to successfully evade that monster-like man? No, not a man, but a devil charging right in at the Elder Knights while crimson streaks of light gushed out of his eyes?!
Escaping from that devil was utterly impossible. And that was why Galahad had to work hard to steady his legs and plant them firmly on the ground. After all, his flinching limbs were trying to stumble back without his consent!
He did all that to stop himself from reflexively running away… And to steel his resolve!
‘Yes, I know! I know that I’m powerless!’
His arrows were supposed to be sharper and deadlier than anything in the entire world.
The vanguards fighting on the frontlines might hog all the glory, but the ones contributing the most were undoubtedly Galahad and Bedivere. That was because magic and arrows raining down from afar were usually several times scarier than knights wildly cutting enemies down on the battlefield.
However, that was the story when they were on a battlefield.
Objectively speaking, Galahad… had not been much of a help during this battle. Actually, that was being charitable. It'd be more correct to say he was responsible for firing the arrows that took the lives of two of his comrades!
Galahad bit his lip hard....
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