The Undying Death Knight failed to achieve the ending of the Heroic Spirit

Still alive, he is still alive.

"That's great, you're still here, that's great." Altria's voice sounded a little choked, she pursed her lips and hugged Minachell tightly: "You're still here, right?"

"Of course, I'm still alive."

The deathly aura emanating from Menechel grew stronger, suggesting that he did not have much time left.

"Leave this to me."

As he said this, he was immediately met with a rebuttal from Artoria.

"Leave immediately and return to Camelot for support."

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 98 Who is right and who is wrong? Let future generations judge (724)

"King Arthur, I am not your subject, and you do not have the power to command me now." Menechel opened his mouth, his eyes almost overflowing with pride.

"With this number of people, I alone am enough."

Quietly waiting for Altria's arrival, the red sword in Menechel's hand once again flashed with dazzling brilliance, and gradually became stained with a layer of black as if it was a curse amid the bursts of red lightning.

time is limited.

Thinking of this, Menechel turned around and looked at the army that was gradually surrounding him. The red-black light on his body began to shine, and as the heavy sword fell, the first enemy that approached was chopped down.

"My name is Sardisiu Menechel. Today, none of you can continue to pursue me!" The voice resounded throughout the canyon. Menechel took a deep breath, and he launched himself again, piercing into the enemy like an arrow from a bow.

There are enemies in front, behind and all around, and Menechel is wandering among the swords and sabers like a cold wind blowing from the snow-capped mountains of Europe. It is only a one-man charge and a one-man war.

Every sword blade and every lance turned into tiny stars under the high-speed charge. There was the whistling cold wind in the ears and blood floating in front of the body.

Dots of Star Rain roared proudly and gradually approached, ravaging every inch of skin one after another and mercilessly. But this pain is nothing compared to the pleasure of running.

The skin on his body was torn and healed, and then torn again immediately after healing. Blood was spilled along his steps as he charged, turning it into the purest road of blood.

The weapons blocking Menechel's path shone brightly, scattered around him in a star-studded pattern. Under the dazzling light, he recalled the days when he galloped on the battlefield in the past.

It was unclear when the enemy's defeat began, but faced with a powerful enemy that could not be defeated no matter how hard they attacked, these improvised rabble undoubtedly collapsed and encountered almost no resistance in the final cleanup process.

There were more people who fled than those who died in the battle.

The greatsword in his hand slowly dropped along with his arm, and only then did Menechel notice that his hands had been pierced by two javelins, and not only his hands, but also various parts of his body were pierced by the enemy's weapons.

He pulled them out one by one without a care in the world and discarded them on the snow.

"Come back with me." At this time, Artoria also slowly walked towards Menechel. She was also seriously injured at this time, but she was much better than Menechel.

"I'm dying."

Menachel said so confidently. The red-black magic power on Menachel's body became thinner and thinner, gradually turning into a dark death energy.

"Teacher Merlin will find a way."

"The fact is, in the Europa Mountains, the rebel general Menechel was killed by King Arthur in the chaos, and Camelot won a great victory." Menechel smiled noncommittally: "So now, can I ask you, Artoria, to kill me, and then..."

“Shut up!” The falling bangs blocked Altria’s red eyes. She lowered her head and took a few steps forward, almost approaching Menechel. She suddenly shouted, grabbed Menechel’s shoulder armor with both hands, and gave an almost forceful command: “Come back with me!”

"Camelot now needs a new pillar. This pillar is not me, not Mr. Merlin, nor Gawain Lancelot, but you, the Knight King of Britain." Menechel put his hands on Altria's shoulders and looked down at Altria: "We will all betray, but the king will not. The king will always protect the country, so kill me and become the new - the strongest knight."

"Stop talking nonsense! Menechel!" Artoria headbutted Menechel on the chest, but even such a powerless attack still made Menechel take a few steps back.

Time is really running out.

He confirmed it again, so Menechel no longer hesitated. He raised his sword and pointed the tip of the sword at Artoria.

"Sartesius Menechel comes to challenge you, King Arthur, do you dare to accept the challenge?"

What responded to him was silence, wordless, eternal silence.

"Let me see your strength, King Arthur!" Menechel suddenly laughed and rushed towards Artoria. The sword in his hand once again emitted bursts of black arcs under the effect of magic power.

Clang!

The collision of swords and the two swords against each other were just like the duel when they parted.

Menechel was forced back three or four steps by Altria's sword. The sheer force made Menechel feel numb.

It has been a long time since I was suppressed in a simple wrestling match.

Menechel shook his right hand, gripped the heavy sword again and rushed forward, but Altria had already rushed forward with her sword.

Menechel took advantage of Altria's momentum and dodged her sword attack. Taking advantage of a split second, he swung his sword in front of the girl.

Altria moved back without any hesitation to avoid the sword coming from Menechel, and stabbed Menechel with her backhand. Under Altria's constricted pupils, Menechel did not make any defensive gestures, he kept his hands flat and faced the King's Sword.

puff!

The sword finally pierced Menechel, and the long-awaited punishment finally came upon the sinner.

The wound on his chest did not heal itself like before. His originally crimson eyes became increasingly dim. A smile appeared on the corners of Menachel's mouth. He closed his outstretched hands and gently hugged Altria's body, using his body to block the girl's forward attack.

"Those who violate the law will lose everything. Don't worry, Artoria. You deserve my reputation." Menechel's body began to slide down. His feet were a little weak, but he tried hard to put his head on Artoria's shoulders. He held the girl's shoulders with both hands, but still couldn't save his increasingly heavy body. He never thought that he was so powerless.

"I'm sorry, Altria. But as a knight, I also have an uncompromising wish... This is it. You must survive."

Menachel's gradually empty mind seemed to clear up a little at this moment. The purpose of his coming this time was to fulfill his obsession - a vow to protect with his own actions.

His consciousness began to fade, and he seemed to hear whimpering sounds in his ears, and then the sounds began to amplify and turned into hysterical howling.

His body slid down and lay on the snow, the world in front of him was pure white. A few snowflakes landed on his body, gradually burying him.

I remember saying that once I stepped onto the battlefield and swung my sword to kill the enemy, I must be prepared to never come back, and a soldier's only home is the battlefield.

"Finally I can take a break..."

Her figure appeared in front of my eyes. The corners of my mouth turned up, and I didn't feel cold, but rather very warm. The cold wind blew past me, and I felt very comfortable.

Closing his eyes, he seemed to be lying on the grass, just like the first time he and she met on that sunny afternoon more than a decade ago.

I don't know what you think, but I've tried my best.

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 99 Postscript: Father and Son

The bells in the center of Camelot rang again.

Under a warm sun that was so dull that it almost made people forget to breathe, King Arthur and his knights toured Camelot, which had survived once again.

Sitting on horseback, Artoria raised her head and looked around. The streets were still bustling with people, crowding on both sides of the city road, celebrating that the king had once again led Camelot through the disaster.

Altria was a little confused. She looked at the knight who was also riding a horse beside her and smiled: "Sir Menachere, is there another celebration today?"

Her voice was gentle, but it caused the lively atmosphere to stagnate. Altria tilted her head in confusion.

"My king, I am Lancelot."

The tall knight who rode closely beside Altria said, after a pause, Lancelot continued, "Today is the day to celebrate the official establishment of the Knights of the Round Table, and it is also the day to burn the body of the traitor Sardisus."

"Lancelot."

Altria looked a little dazed. She closed her eyes and finally remembered that Lancelot was one of the Knights of the Round Table.

First Knight.

Saltisius Menechel, the former recognized first knight of Europe, was shot dead by King Arthur in the chaos of his army in the snowy mountains of Europe for treason.

This is something that everyone knows.

"That's it."

Altria's eyes were calm, and no expression could be seen on her numb face.

"Lancelot, I remember that you were once a subordinate of Misaldice."

When Lancelot heard the king's question, his expression became serious and he immediately said, "I am loyal to you, king."

Altria did not answer, but followed the horse team. The figures on both sides passed by quickly like ghosts until they reached a high platform in front.

The setting sun poured out its blood-red afterglow unreservedly, shining on the dead object. The corpse, which had been preserved by magic, made the rebel still look like he had just died, and blood seemed to be slowly flowing out of the wound on his chest.

Bright and eye-catching.

For a moment, Altria couldn't tell whether it was the light and shadow created by the setting sun, or the blood that dyed the setting sun red. What kind of wonder was that?

But there was no time to think.

Everyone was waiting for her to take command, and everyone was looking at her. Not at the girl named Altria, but at the hope named King Arthur.

"set fire."

A cold voice came out of her mouth, and even she felt unfamiliar with it.

Immediately, several knights holding torches threw them into the pile of wood under the corpse. The crackling flames climbed upwards, swallowing the figure on the platform inch by inch.

The platform was shaking and unwilling to hand over the people on it.

But as thick black smoke rose, the wooden platform finally collapsed.

"An era is over."

Altria clearly heard someone's voice, but she couldn't find anyone. She could only watch the figure in the flames disappear.

Go put out the fire!

This was the roar of her soul, but her body did not respond at all. Her hands naturally held the horse's reins. She wanted to turn her head, but she could not even do this simple action.

In a trance, Artoria felt that she was also in the flames, and she could definitely feel the hot burning of the flames. But she remained motionless, staring at the front calmly as she did at this moment.

Watching the laughing townspeople and the singing jesters.

This is her country, a country that needs to be saved but does not deserve to be saved.

Camelot does not deserve Menechel.

"so good."

Artoria chuckled softly, her voice was calm, and the guy who only stared at her left here completely, and with him died Artoria, whom he had been watching.

Thus, the perfect king was born.

……

This was a city-wide carnival, and purifying the traitors was merely an outlet for venting. The long-awaited victory made the residents of Camelot, who had experienced years of defeat, extremely excited.

But except one person.

Mordred stood in the dark alley, with an extremely complicated look in his emerald eyes.

"Menechel"

The girl bit her lips tightly and held the thin shawl tightly with both hands. Finally, she couldn't help but take a step forward. Even if she would die here, she wanted to keep the body.

But just taking one step forward, Mordred's body could no longer move at all, and the superb magic imprisoned the girl's body.

"Mordred, don't move."

In my ears, it was the voice of [Mother] Morgan.

"Let go!" Mordred yelled unreasonably, but was dragged into the shadows by a pair of hands.

Morgan looked at the child in front of him with an inexplicable smile on his face.

"That won't do. If you disrupt this important ceremony, the king you respect will be very angry."

"I don't care if he's angry or not. King Arthur is a rotten man!" Mordred's voice did not slow down at all. It became more and more intense like her reddening eyes. "It's obviously not necessary to do this. Obviously, Menechel once respected him so much."

Morgan gently covered Mordred's mouth, and then the smile on the witch's face faded a little: "You are not allowed to say that, the king is your father."

As if her throat was strangled by an invisible hand, Mordred suddenly became quiet, her eyes widened, and one could clearly see that the anger in them, which had not yet subsided, was immediately diluted by a sense of horror.

"That's right. The King Arthur you respect is indeed your biological father."

Morgan said this, but lowered her head to observe Mordred's expression. But the witch was surprised to find that the hesitation on Mordred's face only lasted for a moment before it immediately collapsed.

"So what if it's my father? That bastard spent as much time with me as Menachere did!"

Morgan nodded in satisfaction. She leaned close to Mordred's ear and whispered, "Do you believe what the outside world says? Child, do you think that the Sardis you know will die so easily at the hands of the king?"

Mordred's pupils shrank, and suddenly she had a bad premonition. But she couldn't stop herself from listening. At this moment, Mordred could only watch herself fall into the snake's trap.

"I asked those undead, and they all died at the hands of Sardisus," Morgan continued.