Hmph!
As the [Death Warrior Potion] passed their lips, every fugitive and outlaw let out a muffled grunt.
Veins like earthworms bulged beneath their skin, twisting every fugitive and outlaw's face into something hideous, even terrifying.
Just looking at them was enough to feel their pain.
Yet not one of them cried out.
Because-
Their lord was watching them!
Because-
Their lord was waiting for them!
All the fugitives and outlaws looked at Arthur, whose expression was gentle but whose eyes held firm resolve. They gritted their teeth and endured, even as their teeth ground audibly, even as blood spilled from their mouths.
Suddenly, one of them collapsed.
He was one of the twelve who had initially managed to restrain their desires.
He was also one of those Arthur had high hopes for.
Compared with those who had submitted to the [Bewitchment] of [Death Sound] in the first round, those capable of restraining their desires naturally had greater potential.
Yet, unexpectedly, one of these twelve had fallen first.
Was his [physique] insufficient?
Arthur looked at the rather frail man and speculated inwardly.
His expression remained gentle, however, with only a trace of worry surfacing in his eyes.
He was worried about the man who had fallen.
And the man saw it.
He saw his king's concern.
How could I let my king worry about me?
What an affront!
This tramples on my honor!
The fallen outlaw abruptly clenched his fists and slammed them into the ground. Using his head for support, he slowly pushed with his legs, forcing himself back up.
"My king, I will not disappoint you!
Even if I die, I will crawl back!
Even in death, I will charge into battle for you!"
The slight man, one of the twelve, roared.
Even as that roar sent more