Chapter 57
Maya walked a familiar path toward the training grounds.
Watching Risefield walking ahead of her stirred mixed feelings.
‘…It’s more bearable than I thought.’
Just like last time, she felt a surge of rage when she saw Risefield.
‘He’s the one who ruined my life, after all.’
But she tried not to dwell too deeply.
It was true Risefield had ruined her life, but spending the precious time she’d gained from her new life hating him felt like a waste.
‘Tristan said he planned to strike Risefield.’
The revolution had begun. His downfall wouldn’t take long now.
And this time, that downfall could be accelerated.
Even in her previous life, Risefield would have declined quickly without Maya.
Though she hated to admit it, her swordsmanship had been quite useful in instilling fear—Risefield’s primary weapon.
Now, she’d leave the politics and persuasion to Tristan. He could meet people, strategize, and bring them to his side.
‘I’ll focus on what I can do—wielding the sword.’
All Maya needed to do was hint at who the loyalists used to be in her past life, and Tristan would know how to bring them over.
Once all the pieces were in place, they would drag Risefield down from the position he’d always coveted.
And in the end…
‘I’ll cut off his head myself.’
She would personally behead him.
‘But before that, I need to understand what Tristan meant.’
It had been an unusual request, so she intended to give it her all.
Once everything was revealed, Tristan might at least allow her the chance to strike the final blow.
‘First, I should deal with the situation in front of me.’
Maya gripped her wooden sword and faced the man before her.
“Ahem, nice to meet you. I’m Graham. Captain of the Imperial Knights, no less,” he said, voice puffed with pride.
He held the wooden sword lazily, clearly underestimating her.
Just like in her past life.
This man, Graham, had clung to comfort and Risefield’s favor rather than true skill. While his base talent wasn’t bad, he could never surpass Maya’s hard-earned mastery.
He had once looked at a mountain he couldn’t climb—and instead of trying, he chose to tear it down.
‘…Risefield used to wield a sword. He should know better.’
Before becoming emperor, Risefield had been a famed swordsman prince.
That was why Maya had once been proud to be acknowledged by him.
But what Risefield truly needed wasn’t talent—it was sycophants who would act in his interest.
Choosing Graham had nothing to do with skill, and everything to do with loyalty and status.
‘He probably arranged this duel just to provoke my pride.’
It was obvious, especially since she had corrected herself during the previous banquet when she couldn’t take Graham’s remarks anymore.
And yes—Maya didn’t want to lose to Graham.
He didn’t even come close to her level.
But Risefield had overlooked something important.
That Maya had spent more time enduring Risefield than Risefield had spent observing her.
She had once been his “Emperor’s Dog,” his contracted knight.
Even if no one else could, she could read his intentions.
‘Whatever you’re hoping for—it won’t go your way.’
Her decision was made.
“You’re not planning to lose, are you?” asked the summoned white dragon beside her.
“My pride as a Pendragon is on the line,” he added anxiously.
Maya smiled faintly.
“Who knows…”
What truly mattered in this duel?
She turned toward Risefield and bowed her head slightly before proposing in a quiet voice:
“Instead of a single match, how about best of five? The first to win three rounds takes the victory.”
Three rounds were too few for Maya.
“A single bout doesn’t prove everything.”
Risefield laughed heartily.
“As expected of a Pendragon.”
He must’ve thought her suggestion was driven by pride and competitiveness.
That was exactly what she’d intended him to think.
“I’ll allow it. Graham, any objections?”
“None at all!”
Graham replied in a booming voice and took his position.
“I’ll let you strike first. Let’s say victory is decided by disarming your opponent.”
He struck a cocky pose with his sword.
“Thank you for the courtesy. Then I’ll begin.”
Maya’s cheerful smile vanished. Her eyes turned sharp and cold, like a snowstorm. When fully focused, she became the embodiment of Pendragon—the one who once slayed the Demon King in legend.
Her wooden sword sliced through the air.
Before Graham could react, his sword hit the ground.
Maya smiled.
“Captain, you don’t have to go easy on me just because I’m a beginner.”
“…Y-yes, of course. I’ll be more careful.”
Graham nodded quickly, and the next round began.
Second match.
Maya clashed swords with Graham and moved in close. Rather than just disarming him, she aimed to injure.
“Oof. Ugh.” Graham groaned.
Still the same as in her past life—no improvement.
Once she had gauged his ability, she knocked the sword from his hands again.
“Wow, lucky me again.”
Same comment as before. But this time, Graham said nothing.
Risefield watched them with growing, twisted desire.
2 to 0.
Just one more win and Maya would sweep the duel.
‘It must be hard to tell for sure.’
Though Risefield had once been a swordsman, he didn’t have the skill to see through Maya’s full strength now that she was awakened.
No one in the world could.
Maya deliberately created ambiguous scenarios to make Risefield uncertain.
Was it luck? Or was it skill?
Graham looked tense. He’d pour all his strength into this next attack.
He always bet everything on his first strike, especially wielding a heavy greatsword. And now, with a wooden sword, the same habit showed.
Maya waited for the moment he fully committed to his blow.
‘Now.’
When his sword met hers, she let go on purpose.
“Wha—?”
Graham stumbled.
Maya pounced immediately.
As Graham scrambled to regain his grip and struck at her, she let her sword fall again—just like a well-written heroine in a play.
“I lost.”
Her calm admission made Graham blink in confusion.
“R-right! Now I’m warmed up!”
He let out a sigh of relief. Risefield’s expression turned unreadable.
‘He must’ve really wanted me to win.’
Of course he did.
To him, Maya Pendragon was a prideful fool, desperate to be acknowledged.
But winning this duel now would only satisfy a shallow desire.
‘I don’t dance to your tune.’
Risefield must’ve thought he was right when she won the first two rounds.
But Maya had planned that too.
Letting him believe everything was going his way—only to rip it away at the last moment.
Even that single win gave Graham hope.
He now rushed in with no hesitation.
Maya slipped in a few painful hits, leaving bruises.
She dragged out the fourth match longer than the third.
Just as it began to feel tedious…
Her sword hit the ground again.
“I lost again.”
She acknowledged the defeat with grace.
“What are you doing?! You’re a Pendragon!”
The white dragon frowned, unable to understand her choice.
“That’s why I made that choice.”
The final match began.
Same strategy.
Maya struck at various spots, leaving nasty bruises, then smiled inwardly with satisfaction as she lost.
It had been a long time since Maya had tasted defeat—especially since she didn’t remember what it even felt like anymore.
“Hah. Got lucky at first, huh? No wonder—self-taught, and still full of holes.”
To show those ‘holes,’ Maya had exaggerated her movements far more than necessary.
She let Graham’s smug voice drift past her ears without concern.
Savoring the emotions, Maya turned to face Risefield and gave a respectful bow.
“I still have a long way to go. I’ll train harder.”
“Y-yes, you should!”
As Graham puffed with pride, Risefield chewed on the unexpected result.
‘Maya Pendragon lost.’
Then why…
Why did it feel like he had just been played?
