The Three Days of Rest End
The three days of rest had finally come to an end. During that time, Ludenberg Lavante often found himself in a delightful yet awkward predicament, thanks to Ashytara Solenute's relentless teasing. She would flash a mischievous grin now and then, crossing her arms, or casually take his hand. Such gestures weren't entirely new, but the moment he became aware of his feelings for her, they left him flustered beyond measure. At this rate, one might have believed his face had always been naturally red.
The redder his cheeks grew, the more wicked her smile became, leading him to suspect she had already seen through his heart. One step from him, and their relationship could change in an instant. But there was one glaring problem: Ludenberg was utterly clueless about romance.
They seemed to share mutual feelings—why not just confess and start dating? Yet he had no idea how to express his emotions to her. Moreover, the nagging fear that her feelings might not match his kept him from broaching the subject rashly. In this frustrating stalemate, he could only groan inwardly, just as she intended.
And that shift was almost dramatic. Ludenberg began paying attention to his surroundings—specifically, the gazes fixed on Ashytara. He finally realized she drew not only admiration from other male students but also sticky, lecherous stares. She kept them at bay with icy glares, but those eyes had always been there.
Ashytara was, without doubt, a stunning beauty. Not just passably pretty, but the kind who could captivate every single one of a hundred men at first sight. A pang of impatience stirred in Ludenberg. Sure, she rejected others now and stuck by his side, but what if someone suddenly caught her eye? Of course, that someone was him, though he remained oblivious.
He saw her as treating him strictly as a close friend. Having only just recognized his own emotions, he had no bandwidth left to gauge hers. A truly regrettable situation.
For the record, Ashytara had long since noticed and was grinning ear to ear, teasing him all the more. She wanted him to focus solely on her—to share the impatience and anxiety she had once felt. So that when she finally confessed, he would devour her heart greedily.
In any case, the three days passed that way. At last, the day of the semifinals dawned.
From afar, Eve Arcadia had watched Ludenberg and Ashytara laughing and strolling about over the past three days, her nerves frayed to a razor’s edge.
Why? Why?
The questions burned fiercely. Why wouldn’t he look her way?
Why?
She was a chosen saintess, after all. One who heard the voice of the goddess directly and carried out her will.
Why doesn’t he praise me? Why doesn’t he crave my attention?
He had even shown outright distaste at times. The facts shocked her.
Why?
The doubts swirled endlessly. To test it, she greeted ordinary students. Their reactions were uniform: some boasted of the saintess’s favor, others bowed humbly, revealing their longing for her. So why did Ludenberg reject her?
Because Arcada’s touch hasn’t reached him?
Even that didn’t fit—people of Solemnute had shown her plenty of goodwill. Her appearance, status, and Arcada’s blessing should have been more than enough to win hearts. Yet he regarded her with cold eyes.
I don’t understand.
Her life had rarely known such rebuffs; she couldn’t comprehend it. Most men fell captive the instant they met her. Exceptions? Nadan Tes, Tradiaan Setta, and Ludenberg, perhaps. Tradiaan had warmed to her at first, but she’d spurned him. Nadan and Ludenberg, though, were enigmas. Hadn’t Nadan even attacked her with words? In truth, his barbs brimmed with kindness, but her traumatic memory branded him dangerous. If anything, he was unjustly lumped in.
But Ludenberg had been wary from the very first glance. It went beyond Ashytara’s influence—the intensity was too much. No matter the cautionary woman nearby, ordinary men yearned to worship her.
Why, exactly?
The questions curdled into obsession. She had to uncover why he kept his distance—a fixation laced with a vicious greed to make him wholly hers.
“Meia.”
“Yes, Saintess.”
“Is everything prepared?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I don’t know their strategy, but they’ll likely target me—while keeping you tied down.”
“Undoubtedly. After their last match, who wouldn’t think that?”
“Let’s uproot that notion from its core.”
“Yes.”
With that, Eve donned her gear. Up to the quarterfinals, she’d worn sacred robes, but now she clad herself in heavy plate, gripping a massive flail and shield.
Eve Arcadia. Though little known, the Holy Knights revered her not just for hearing Arcada’s voice, but because she ranked second only to their captain, Blaine Denes, in strength.
Expectations for the semifinals ran sky-high. Ludenberg and Ashytara, who had effortlessly crushed famed powerhouses Eden Asta and Mion Altis. Eve, Abaran’s saintess, and her guard knight Meia Andem. Each had displayed feats bordering on the miraculous—far beyond mere students.
Everyone gasped at Eve’s armament upon entering the arena. They’d expected her in robes, casting saint laws aloofly from afar. Instead, she stood in sturdy armor, shield and vicious flail in hand. Meia, too, brandished her signature morningstar and shield, glaring across the field.
The crowd erupted in ecstasy at their imposing figures. The arena brimmed with Ortara folk, who adored such warrior grandeur.
Next came Ludenberg and Ashytara. Their sharp gazes locked on Eve and Meia, lingering briefly on the saintess before they exchanged nods.
Good call anticipating her melee prowess. Plan unchanged: Ashytara checks Meia, Ludenberg takes Eve. They could crush Meia together, but a freed Eve might wreak havoc unpredictably.
“My, I have so many questions for you.”
Eve’s bright voice carried to Ludenberg. He shook his head.
“I still don’t understand why a noble saintess like yourself shows interest in a nobody like me.”
“Nobody? Calling Lavante’s heir a nobody insults all who revere the Lavante name. You ought to value yourself higher.”
“I rate myself quite highly. I simply don’t grasp why you question me.”
“Oh? Just curiosity, like any girl my age. In Abaran, Arcada herself permits priests to wed. Much like Solemnute.”
The stands fell deathly silent in an instant. Even unflappable Meia shot her a startled glance. Ludenberg and Ashytara, helmets still in hand, gaped dumbfounded.
Silence shattered into chaos. Ortara whistles of delight. Abaran clerics denying reality, some fainting while invoking Arcada, claiming auditory hallucinations. Solemnute folk stared bewildered at Ludenberg, their first-years sighing, “Him again?”
Amid the pandemonium, Eve alone stood serene.
“What do you say, Young Lavante?”
She smiled toward Ashytara as she spoke. Ashytara caught on instantly. Pure provocation—the kind impossible to ignore. Her glare turned murderous.
Resorting to this, huh.
She knew Ludenberg’s heart was hers. Still, she loathed this brazen ploy. Who wouldn’t hate someone coveting what’s theirs? Hatred flickered in her eyes.
She’d discovered his worth first, shared years with him. Only she deserved to walk beside him. Any interloper was intolerable.
But against her seething rage, Ludenberg’s reply was crisp and ice-cold.
“My apologies, Saintess, but I hold no interest in you.”
A blade-sharp rejection. The crowd’s breaths hitched. Even Eve faltered, unprepared for such chill dismissal despite expecting refusal.
“Wh-why?”
“Simple. I know nothing about you. How could I be drawn to a stranger?”
“Then we can get to know each other slowly.”
“Apologies, but I lack the time.”
“……Time?”
“I’m barely keeping up with moving forward. So, regrettably, I must decline your proposal.”
“……Ha.”
Eve exhaled in hollow defeat. Her gaze flicked to Ashytara. The venomous hate in those eyes had vanished, replaced by blatant mockery. It twisted Eve’s gut.
Her obsession with Ludenberg blazed hotter as she assumed her stance. The banter had dragged, but this was the semifinals friendly match. At the referee’s call, they clashed with emotions running higher than ever.