Staged Showdown…? Duel (3)
“Wait, lady?”
Orishin let out an inward cheer of ‘Finally!’. Sure, her attitude was a bit rough around the edges and her mouth ran foul, but from a step back, Morgina was expressing her affection for Kriel in her own straightforward way. Even that mad knight fanatic wall-hanger—her nickname for him—ought to pick up on it when she came at him so directly, right?
“Did you two get married in the meantime or something?”
“What?”
“Of course, I find the analysis convincing that chivalric religious worship of holy figures evolved into longing for noble ladies, forming courtly love customs. But if you're calling yourself a lady, there are two problems with that.”
[Real knight-chivalry psycho…]
Orishin muttered. He could keenly feel why Morgina called him swordhead.
“First off, it depends on whether we're talking Holy Kingdom standards, Alliance Kingdom, Empire, or some other nation or non-human race. But generally, a lady means a married woman.”
“Holy Kingdom standards, then. On our side, it's judged by grace and honor, not marriage. Second?”
In the Holy Kingdom's chivalry—mainly upheld by paladins—a lady's definition didn't include marriage. Simple reason: doctrine featured many unmarried female clergy, with paladins choosing to serve them as their ladies.
“Second is the contextual issue you mentioned.”
Kriel gazed calmly at Morgina. Outwardly, it looked like a demon legion commander issuing an ultimatum to a priestess.
“Where's your grace— “
“Fine. I'll kill you.”
***
[You lunatic! Aren't you supposed to be an honorable knight?!]
“What's the problem?!”
Kriel shouted back, barely parrying Morgina's fierce assault, breathless. It wasn't a very knightly, composed yell, but the clamor of sword clashing against mace drowned it out completely—no chance of anyone overhearing the informality.
[Is it chivalrous to trash-talk someone like that?!]
“Comrades can be rough with each other!”
[What the hell, man?]
[The master's viewing Morgina not as a protected charge or liege to swear loyalty to, but as an equal comrade. And among comrades, excessive courtesy is the real rudeness. A bit of insolence is just friendly expression, right?]
Kriel nodded in satisfaction. Hidden by the horned helmet, his face wasn't visible, but Orishin could easily imagine the smug grin beneath.
[You chivalry boneheads! You bicker like this all the time, so why do you only sync up on this weird crap?!]
***
It was an intense fight.
Mazar Gabi had nearly lost his mind when his champion started babbling about “actually coming to throw the match.” A huge investment in a contract fighter, and she turned out to be a scammer? As a cleric, even? (The Priest-King's official stance: “Depending on the sect, they broadly tolerate a priest's ‘wit.’”)
But now, he was dumbfounded for an entirely different reason.
The endless swarm of black crows seemed like lethal artillery shells, each one. Amid the storm of self-guiding crows exploiting every opening in Kriel's defenses from all angles, two even deadlier red lines whipped about. Every time the chain mace's weight smashed the flagstones, the duel arena's floor crunched and cratered.
No one would guess these two knew each other—it was brutally savage. Or maybe they did. Enemies might fight this fiercely.
Dowkrius cheered.
“Oh, goddess! May the victor be your side!”
Armed found herself fixating less on the fight itself and more on what that woman Morgina had said. Remarks linking to Kriel's armor, and her bold claim of being “Kriel's lady.” And her origins were even more troubling. Mazar Gabi, who'd brought her, seemed oblivious, but that blood-red holy power summoning the crows was the signature Holy Benediction of the Eve Kaha Church.
The Eve Kaha saintess declaring to the church's champion, “I'm your lady.” Watching Dowkrius the priest clap along like it was just entertainment suggested no celibacy doctrine there.
A vague sense of crisis welled in Armed's heart, undefined even to herself.
***
Kriel thought: At this rate, I'm losing.
Clerics and the Abyss were natural counters to each other. But in normal scenarios, clerics held the edge. The world of Tirnanog itself rejected the foreign Abyss. A cleric bolstered by the world's favor was the Abyss's predator.
Conversely, in abyssal pits built to amplify it, the Abyss grew stronger, flipping the dynamic. Clerics purified those pits; Abyss spawn eroded the world into them. Predator and prey in eternal cycle—that described it best.
Kriel didn't see himself as Abyss spawn, but the Dark Knight class inherently overlapped with it. So Morgina charging so relentlessly naturally put him on the defensive.
[No way. Does she have infinite holy power? Even as a saintess, dumping it like this without depletion?]
[You've got abilities left too, master.]
Tuon. Using that gets me exiled from here.
Tuon meant not the knights' common fighting spirit, but blood qi and resentment. Kriel had no intention of such insanity. Plus, it'd worsen the matchup.
Dispersing the crows' explosions, Kriel sought a way to end this.
Come to think of it, this whole Duel Trial started with trick on trick.
So the finish should be tricky too.
***
Thud—! Kriel slammed his greatsword into the ground. The blade pierced the stone like butter.
Fighting spirit erupted from the tip, grinding flagstones to dust that scattered into the air. The caught debris flew like shotgun pellets.
“Nice, this is fun!”
Morgina swung her left-hand chain mace. The whirling chain formed an iron curtain, swatting the stones aside. No—more than that. The fragments snagged in the chain's motion; she twisted her wrist, hurling them back at Kriel.
Kriel didn't bother pulling his grounded greatsword. He drew his horn dagger.
Morgina licked her lips behind the veil. Even now, the design was damn fine. Not bias as its maker, but it suited Kriel's vibe perfectly. Seeing him decked in her crafted gear tugged at something deep.
She charged with a grin. But her expression hardened.
Wrapped head to toe in my creations, yet fighting me to protect that pink-haired brat? She'd been half-serious already; time to dial it up.
“Wanna rub up close and play?!”
Kriel's raised horn dagger was shorter than a standard one-hander. Inevitably, they'd fight much closer. Crude battlefield flirtation, but passionate.
Kriel riposted smoothly. “That's why you lack grace!”
The horn dagger was shorter than both her maces—a disadvantage normally, but irrelevant at such intimate range where she couldn't swing.
Kriel aimed for close quarters; Morgina knew it.
“I prefer even closer play!”
But she welcomed it—craved it more. Her chain mace lashed out, coiling around his dagger. Her blood-forged weapons, made of holy power, could reshape freely in theory. But sculpting them so deftly mid-battle? That was her skill.
[Kyyyaaaaah!]
Ignoring swordhead's screech, Morgina yanked to disarm him. Knights trained in grappling too. Unarmed, he'd close in bare-handed.
Delicious in every sense.
No way he'd pull a Seven Great Demonic Weapons here.
Brawling skin-to-skin had its own romance.