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Henry's consciousness was slipping away as the throbbing pain overwhelmed him. As his vision blurred, he saw Hector lunging at Arthus with his blade to stop him from pressuring the Saint.
‘Hector…!’
He couldn’t talk because of the blood that filled up his lungs. All he could do was watch Hector launch himself toward Arthus.
Hector—he was the secret weapon Henry had prepared for this war. He had outperformed the other knights, but that had merely been against the apostles.
Arthus was a completely different beast, leagues above the apostles. Even Henry, who could use 8th-Circle magic and had the swordsmanship of a Sword Master, which he didn’t have in his past life, stood no chance against Arthus.
As for Hector, even though Hoosler, a top Warlock, had joined hands with Vulcanus, the best blacksmith of Monsieur, to transform him into a Death Knight, he stood no chance either.
Lastly, not even Herarion, La’s Sword, could lay a finger on Arthus.
No one was a match for him.
Finding the blade protruding from his chest amusing, Arthus burst into laughter. “Hahaha!”
Arthus kept looking at the...
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