Luck.
Leonel's cold and calculating eyes watched as this golden fist bore down on him.
As though it was still being constantly fueled by the energies of the world, it continued to expand in size. From matching Alexandre's fist, it was soon larger than even Leonel's body, wanting to crush him into minced meat.
Leonel didn't seem to realize that this fist was meant for him. He remained unmoving, his spear being held between his fingers and thumb as though it was as light as a feather.
In his mind, thoughts of Normand continued to surface… The pain of the commoners, the nightmare of the nobles… All the pains and atrocities this man had committed in the name of maintaining his power and strength.
Leonl found that there were too many people like this in the world. It was just that not all of them had the power Alexandre had.