Chapter 17
“Shall we begin?”
Priana tossed a light provocation toward Kroad.
“So you came just to chatter?”
Twitch.
But instead of being provoked, Kroad’s words made Priana’s brow furrow.
Priana studied him carefully, as if trying to recall who this man was.
He was probably thinking something like:
Who in the world is he, to be so confident?
The Zenith Knight Academy—renowned as the strongest knightly school in the world.
Almost every famous knight had passed through its halls.
Yet the man standing before him was a stranger.
That left only two possibilities:
A hidden master who’d been in seclusion for more than a decade,
or just a fool blinded by money who agreed to act as a proxy.
The chance that a hidden master would show up as the stand-in for some spoiled count’s son was basically zero.
So there was only one answer:
The man before him was just a money-mad idiot.
“Hmph.”
Priana tightened his grip.
Bang!
In the next instant, he shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
An ordinary onlooker would have struggled to track his movement.
Oh…
No flourish needed—he’d end this in a single cut.
His blade, carrying that resolve, slashed toward Kroad.
Clang!
A sharp metallic crash rang out as sparks scattered in all directions.
Brilliant sparks burst between Kroad and Priana like exploding fireworks.
It would have ended there—if Kroad really were a fool blinded by money.
“Hm.”
Kroad casually received Priana’s strike and exhaled a quiet sigh.
“…What?”
Priana doubted his own eyes.
Not only had Kroad parried his lightning-fast strike, he stood perfectly unscathed.
Impossible.
Priana had swung a sword thousands—no, tens of thousands—of times during years at the academy.
He had forged his own swordplay by walking a single, uncompromising path.
That discipline had earned him the nickname Knight of the Swift Blade.
And yet his attack had been blocked without causing so much as a scratch.
“Th—that can’t…”
Just that single clash sent chills racing up Priana’s spine.
A new hypothesis began to take root:
Maybe the man before him wasn’t some money-crazed idiot after all.
Maybe he really was a master who had lived in seclusion for decades.
“You’re shallow.”
“What did you say?”
Kroad, still holding Priana’s blade at bay, spoke evenly.
“Too shallow. Softer than a hand changing a baby’s diaper.”
“…Ha!”
The words denied Priana’s entire life.
He had clawed his way to Sword Rank 5 through blood-soaked effort—
and this man compared it to changing diapers?
A vein bulged across Priana’s forehead.
Fsssh…
Blue mana flared around his body.
He was burning every drop of mana to raise his speed and power to the limit.
Judging from the aura, he stood just shy of Rank 6.
For someone barely thirty to reach that level spoke volumes about his relentless training.
“Then try stopping this!”
BOOM!
His next charge was even fiercer, the air itself trembling from the pressure.
Kroad only lifted one corner of his mouth and drew on his own aura.
Clang! Clang!
This time the clash didn’t end with a single strike.
Blows poured in faster than an eye-blink.
Each collision of their blades blossomed into red sparks like flowers of fire.
“Wow…”
I watched their duel, utterly entranced.
“On the Valhalla scale… maybe level three or four hundred?”
For reference, I’d hit level 999 in the Valhalla system.
Not that I was underestimating this fight.
This was still a battle between monsters.
It just felt weaker because I’d once lived in a world where even breathing was hell.
If we were still in the era of the Fourth Great Upheaval, these two would rank among the top fighters.
If Rank 5 is like this… how terrifying is Rank 9?
The Great Sage Oberon.
According to the novel’s lore, the strongest of the strong.
A being who made the phrase “magic rank nine monster” sound small.
Siding with Kroad meant making an enemy of someone like that.
The thought made me shiver.
Hmm… As impressive as this is, maybe my ties with Kroad should end here.
I forced down my regrets and kept watching.
Their blades traced countless lines in the air.
Each impact shook the arena with deafening booms.
“Whoa…”
Across the way, Count Vener and Count Aemon stared blankly, equally transfixed.
They probably couldn’t even follow the fight.
I could barely track the sword trails myself.
“Urgh…!”
At last a low groan escaped—
from Priana.
His mana, drained by the relentless assault, was nearly spent.
Kroad, in contrast, remained perfectly composed.
Ka-ga-gak!
With a final strike, Priana leapt back, panting.
“Huff… Huff…”
“Is that all?”
“You… bastard…!”
“Then it’s my turn.”
Kroad set his blade at his hip.
For an instant, the muscles in his right arm bulged.
Crunch.
His footsteps carried a different weight now, each one pounding the ground.
Hearing them, Priana hurriedly raised his sword.
BOOM!
“Gah!”
The sound of thunder exploded as Kroad struck.
Priana barely blocked—but the impact lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the ground.
“Damn…!”
He struggled upright, but Kroad gave him no respite.
Bang! BOOM!
“Argh!”
Priana could barely stay upright.
Kroad’s blade fell mercilessly on him.
Moments ago Priana had moved with the swiftness and precision of the Knight of the Swift Blade.
Now he staggered, barely parrying Kroad’s strikes.
“Kh-hrrk!”
Gush!
A mouthful of dark blood spilled from Priana’s lips.
Aura swords cut both ways.
They were powerful—but when skill differed, the user could suffer internal injuries.
Just a few minutes of Kroad’s onslaught had left Priana in this state.
This was the difference between Rank 5 and Rank 6.
In the Valhalla system, a level or two might be overturned by clever play.
But this was the world of World Conquered by Ranks—
A world where rank ruled everything.
“That sword of yours is far too light.”
“…What…”
“Speed alone isn’t enough. Each strike must carry the power to crush your foe—that’s what makes swordsmanship truly threatening.”
“Ugh…”
Kroad spoke on and on to the near-defeated Priana.
Perhaps he felt a kind of kinship with someone whose style resembled his own.
Well, that fits. This was the same taciturn guy who wouldn’t shut up giving sword tips when he first fought Dia.
He was a villain, yes, but also a kind of sword mentor.
He’d often said knights relied too much on artifacts and should mix in magic from time to time.
Of course, he’d eventually be killed by Dia, his own student.
“Shut… up…!”
Even coughing blood, Priana forced himself to stand.
A faint smile touched Kroad’s lips.
Back when he talked with me, he looked like someone who wouldn’t bleed a drop even if stabbed…
“Very well.”
Kroad raised his blade again.
“Let’s finish this.”
He unleashed his aura blade once more.
Priana mustered every last ounce of strength to meet him.
BOOM!
Another clash—
and no miracle followed.
“Do we need to continue?”
Priana collapsed to the ground, battered and broken.
A Rank 5 prodigy,
defeated—overwhelmingly—by an unknown knight.
The presiding judge stood gaping.
He had known roughly what this duel was meant to achieve:
Humiliate Count Imfera, spark a bloody feud among the nobles,
and, if Count Vener wavered, ensure the plan succeeded.
He had never considered the possibility that Priana might lose.
Yet he had lost.
A genius of the Zenith Knight Academy, personally supported by the king.
“Uh…”
“Judge.”
“Eh? Ah! R-right…”
The judge could only mumble incoherently.
Another judge finally spoke for him.
“W-Winner! House Imfera!”
“Wooooo!”
A cheer rose from the “crowd”—which consisted only of Ilene and me.
“Hah…”
Count Aemon looked just as stunned, unable to believe it.
Not only had a Rank 6 proxy appeared from nowhere, he had actually won.
He’d expected either his own death or the death of the stand-in Ian had found.
“Master! We won!”
“Ahem… It seems the blessing of Trias truly smiles upon us.”
Instead of jumping for joy, I took the chance to needle Count Vener.
“Grr…”
He’d never imagined losing; his face flushed crimson with rage.
Heh! Serves you right!
“Oh, and as we discussed—the ownership of the Baldig Dungeon.
We’ll be taking that as well, yes?”
“W-what?! Ridiculous! This is void—void, I say!”
The petty count wanted to throw a tantrum?
But after a trial-by-combat victory, the initiative was ours.
“Void? This was a legitimate duel trial in the presence of judges.
Calling it void would be nothing less than treason.”
“Th-that…”
Count Vener, drenched in cold sweat, glanced at the judges.
They were shocked too, but a promise was a promise.
Their duty was to uphold it, no matter how much Vener raged.
“Th-the young lord is correct.
As agreed, ownership of Baldig Dungeon passes to House Imfera.”
“Gah…!”
Unable to endure it, Count Vener foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
“Lord!”
His attendants rushed to him, but he was already unconscious.
“Well, handle him as you see fit.”
I wouldn’t have minded if he’d just died,
but he’d likely recover in a few days and try to bother our family again.
“Tch.”
I turned from the fallen count to Kroad.
“What about this one?”
I meant the fallen Priana.
Victory in a duel trial granted the winner power over the loser’s life.
Kroad could behead him outright or maim him, reducing him to a powerless Blank.
It was entirely up to Kroad.
Honestly… I hoped he wouldn’t kill Priana.
This man was destined to become the future captain of the Isother Knights.
If he died here?
The story would spiral completely out of control.
I’d already disrupted enough; I needed to minimize further changes.
Then again, House Imfera winning here is already a problem…
A different, yet similar issue:
The ragged rural count’s house hadn’t fallen but survived.
That might not matter much in the grand scheme of the continent,
but Priana was another matter entirely.
If he died, the protagonist would never form that crucial bond with him.
“…Let him be.”
“Let him be?”
“I promised only to win the duel.
I never promised to take his life.”
Phew!
I exhaled in relief.
As long as Priana lived, the future might not veer too wildly.
“……”
Kroad regarded the fallen knight for a moment, then turned away.
“Then we’ll take our leave?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
The judge nodded, still dazed.
“When Count Vener wakes, please convey our regards, will you?”
“…I suppose I must.”
And so, humming a cheerful tune,
I climbed into the carriage bound for House Imfera.
