Before Owes could continue speaking, a sedative was injected into his body.
The drug quickly numbed his nerves, yet he still stared at Merlin steadfastly, that unyielding hand clinging to his clothing like a steel clamp, refusing to let go, until the doctors forcibly separated them.
"I can keep going... Merlin."
These were the last words Owes spoke, like the final struggle of a drowning man.
Merlin watched the boy with some trepidation, Owes had always been steady, this was the first time he'd seen him in such a state.
"What happened."
He asked the doctors who had restrained Owes.
The doctors, wearing thick masks, answered Merlin's inquiry.
"According to the protocols for protecting Lancelot, once the alarm sounded, we entered to protect him... but he was already on the ground, convulsing in pain.
One of the doctors described the scene.
"Before we could do anything to help, he got better, and then escaped. It's hard to imagine he could move to such an extent."
