Leonel's spear became swifter. The clearer his mind became, the sharper his ability shone through. A calculative mind didn't need to rely on emotion.

Maybe it was ironic that an inherently emotional man like Leonel had suddenly become the exact opposite. But it was an irony that Leonel wasn't thinking about.

[Call of the Wind], a technique meant for throwing, subconsciously molded itself into his spear. His mind could see through how it worked, forming dozens of calculations a second, he changed its foundation, adding a power previously impossible to his strikes.

It was only now that Leonel finally made use of his powerful spirit. To now, he had only foolishly only used it to power his Internal Sight. Even when he activated his Force, he had focused it into his mind, vastly improving his coordination and reactions.

But now, a pale light coated his spear. It didn't extend his blade to near the extent Aina's ax spirit had, probably because it was being wielded through a crudely formed technique Leonel was still adjusting even to this very moment. But its power was undeniable.

Leonel burst through the last line of Englishmen, his flexible armor and sweats matted in blood that wasn't his own.

"Aina!"

Having burst through only one side of the encirclement, Aina still had enemies closing in from at least three sides.

However, all Leonel received in return was a blazing ax.

He had never paid much attention to Aina's ax before. Maybe it was typical teenage boy selective sight. But, seeing it up close, it could only be described as a beautiful weapon.

It had a handle of over a meter and a half long, with a thickness so robust Aina's small hands couldn't wrap all the way around it.

Aina's gaze swayed with fatigue, her cheek falling to Leonel's chest.

Leonel's eyes flickered. He could feel the searing heat of her body even through his flexible armor.

"Stop him!"

"Don't let her get away!"

Leonel sighed. He strapped the massive shield to his back, pulling Aina in with his left arm to his chest. She herself was as light as a feather, but the ax she refused to let go of even while unconscious was a completely different story. It alone weighed over 200 pounds... And Leonel had vaguely felt Aina lowering its weight before she fainted.

Despite the situation, Leonel inadvertently smiled and even felt a bit flustered.

'What am I thinking?! She has a high fever and you're in the middle of an army that wants nothing more than to kill her. Get it together!'

Making a decision, Leonel didn't choose to run. His shield to his back, Aina in one arm, his spear in the other, he stood tall.

"If you'd like to come, you can come. I'll take as much as you can give. But I won't let her die here."

Regaining his calm, Leonel's imposing aura shone forth once more. As dangerous as Aina had been, this was something she hadn't had.

Leonel meant his words. Running away would do him no good and he would only end up implicating the Frenchmen. Even though the English had retreated, they still had more than 15 000 of their original number. If they rallied, they could still crush the less than thousand remaining Frenchmen.

There was only one option left. Leonel had to impose his will. He had to appear invincible. He had to crush their resolve until nothing was left, that very resolve he respected with all his heart.