The Fated Duel with the Academy's New Swordmaster
In the midst of their discussion with Professor Milaze Eindhoven, Lucian found himself suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice that cut through the air like a well-honed blade.
Rie Arche von Haniel had returned, stepping into the spotlight once more as the legendary Sword Master herself. The moment she appeared, whispers rippled through the ranks of the academy's third-year students like ripples across a still pond.
“Who started a sword duel this time?” one muttered.
“I wonder which fool is about to get crushed today,” another added with a grin.
“Rie Arche von Haniel.”
The voice pulled her attention away from her conversation, and she turned with a cascade of shimmering golden hair that caught the light like liquid sunlight.
There, standing with a broad, easy smile, was Michael Isaac von Israb—the man she had defeated not long ago. Though some students had secretly wondered whether that humiliating loss might have festered into resentment, Michael’s face spoke of nothing but pure, unclouded joy.
“Senior Michael.”
“It feels like only a month since the beginning of the term, doesn’t it? Oh, and this hallway leads to the third-year office.”
“Yes, that’s right. I came here for a specific matter.”
“Are you planning another duel with one of my juniors?”
If she truly intended to challenge one of his classmates, Michael would have done everything in his power to stop her. The world was full of opponents worth sparring with—and those who would only drag you down.
In his eyes, Rie belonged firmly in the latter category. A monster, not merely a genius. The thought still sent an involuntary shiver down his spine whenever he recalled the raw, terrifying skill she had displayed even before taking the knight’s exam, using a body that was neither male nor fully matured.
Following her footsteps was one thing. Chasing her to the end was another. That kind of reckless ambition felt far too much, even for him.
“No, Senior Michael. It’s not with any third-year classmates.”
“…That sounds a little odd. You’re saying it’s not a duel with your peers, yet…”
“Yes. We are going to have a duel. The opponent is not a third-year senior.”
“What? Then who exactly are you facing, and why are we heading toward the third-year office?”
Michael looked genuinely confused. The only way he could have missed such news was if it had come from outside the academy’s usual channels.
Just as he opened his mouth to ask, Rie glanced back at him with a thoughtful expression.
“Senior, have you heard anything about the new swordsmanship instructor who’s joined this term?”
“The new instructor? I knew the one who was here left for personal reasons, but I heard the position wouldn’t be filled until next semester.”
“It seems you didn’t know. The person I’m here to challenge is none other than this term’s new third-year swordsmanship instructor.”
“Oh? I’m surprised even I didn’t know. Thank you for telling me, Rie.”
“It’s nothing at all.”
As they reached the third-year office, Michael’s curiosity had already turned into a storm of questions. The moment Rie uttered the name, his eyes widened in shock.
“Fleta?”
“Fleta Presto von Deodore, the knight who’s now the swordsmanship instructor?”
Even at Minerva Academy, Fleta’s reputation had spread far and wide. The daughter of the Deodore family—one of the most politically connected houses in the kingdom—had chosen the Martial Division despite the fact that every other family member served exclusively in diplomacy and state affairs.
Her talent was so exceptional that her future as a knight had been considered almost certain. Yet Michael had never had the chance to meet her. He had enrolled after she had already graduated with honors and entered military service.
Now, standing before her as a fellow martial student and someone who admired knights more than anyone else, he felt an overwhelming sense of reverence.
“She’s also Lucian’s older sister.”
“And the future viscountess of Deodore. But what makes her truly extraordinary is that she was the very first woman—and the first martial student—to emerge from the literary-only Deodore family. Her skill is said to surpass that of many noble knight heirs.”
“You speak with such admiration, Senior.”
“I do, because I respect her both as a superior and as a knight. Still…”
“In truth, she was the one who approached me first. How could I have refused?”
“…”
“Of course I had no intention of refusing.”
The realization that Rie intended to duel with Fleta struck Michael like lightning. He was unbearably envious. Not only that, but he himself—Michael Isaac von Israb, the son of a noble house—had never been given the opportunity to face Fleta Presto von Deodore, a knight whose sword was said to be both lethal and breathtakingly beautiful.
He had always dreamed of crossing blades with her one day. Now the opportunity had fallen into Rie’s lap, and he could only watch with aching envy.
The two of them had almost reached the office door when Michael’s heart began to thunder. The academy’s most celebrated knights belonged to their generation, and Fleta was the most famous among them.
“Shall we go in?”
Rie pushed the door open just a crack, and the staff inside barely glanced up before returning to their papers.
Then her voice rang out.
“Fleta Instructor!”
“Oh, right on time. I’ve just finished speaking with the student council president and was heading out when you appeared.”
“It’s not anyone else—I’m here for my duel with you, Instructor. You wouldn’t keep me waiting, would you?”
“That makes me feel a little better. And who is the gentleman standing beside you?”
“He wanted to greet the new instructor. Michael Isaac von Israb, a third-year martial student.”
“Ah, the eldest son of the Israb house. I heard he passed the knight examination.”
As Fleta spoke, she turned her head slightly. For the first time in his life, Michael was standing at the perfect distance from the legendary knight he had admired for years.
His pulse quickened not with excitement, but with something far more complicated.
“Senior…?”
He could not even form the words. His mind had gone completely blank. Fleta’s sharp gaze only made the situation worse. Finally, Rie jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
“Aaaah!” Michael yelped, bowing deeply enough to shake the windows. His voice echoed through the entire office like thunder.
“I- I-I’m pleased to meet you! Michael Isaac von Israb, third-year student at Minerva Academy and candidate for the 212th knight examination! It is an honor to finally meet you!”
The entire staff looked up, startled by the outburst. Michael realized too late what he had done.
Rie quickly bowed, apologizing repeatedly.
Fleta, for her part, looked equally flustered. She blinked, let out a soft “eh?”, and gave a slightly awkward laugh.
“Hmm? Uh, well… hello. Nice to meet you, Michael.”
“You may call me your junior, Senior!”
“This is an academy, not a formal gathering. I’m just an instructor here, not a professor. I have no intention of showing off to my students.”
“But you are an academy senior and someone who has already passed the knight examination!”
“That’s troublesome. Then perhaps you should call me ‘junior’ instead?”
“Of course! It would be an honor, Instructor!”
Still unable to contain himself, Michael’s voice rose higher and higher. The staff finally had to intervene, shouting for quiet. Only then did he manage to lower his volume.
“I’m sorry, Instructor.”
“Just call me ‘Instructor.’ From now on I will be handling all third-year martial students, just like you.”
“What about you, Rie? Did you have something to discuss with me today?”
“Yes, Instructor.”
“I know this is a bit much, but thank you for coming.”
Rie shook her head vigorously.
“It’s an honor to be able to duel with such a skilled knight as you. My fellow students will probably be extremely jealous when they hear about it.”
Though the words were genuine, Michael’s gaze toward Rie was filled with pure envy. For those who wielded swords, facing someone of her caliber was not merely a test—it was a gift straight from the heavens.
“…”
Rie stole a glance at Fleta, then spoke softly.
“Instructor, may I ask one small favor?”
“Of course. What is it, Rie?”
“If possible, I would like Michael to join us at the dueling grounds.”
“Michael as well?”
Fleta hesitated, clearly weighing the request. The reason she had agreed to duel with Rie was not only because she wanted to test the academy’s prodigy. Yesterday’s strange look between Lucian and Rie had been far too telling.
Though she herself was not particularly skilled in matters of the heart, she knew what those eyes meant.
“…”
After a moment of consideration, Fleta nodded.
“Very well. Michael, follow us. I can only duel you, so don’t push me too hard.”
“It would be an honor just to watch, Senior! I don’t expect anything!”
“Quietly, please. This is an office, not a battlefield.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be careful.”
A strange silence fell over Michael as Rie and Fleta stepped out together, both of them laughing quietly behind their hands.
The empty dueling grounds lay ahead. As if by unspoken agreement, the two women measured the distance between them and began to circle each other.
“You’re not using live blades today, are you?”
“Hmm, I was thinking of using practice blades. Rie seems to want to use real ones.”
“You’ve already given Lucian a wonderful experience. I suppose I should be a little greedy as well.”
Fleta offered a gentle smile, but she never actually said the word “real.” This duel was a gift meant only for her precious little brother—something to cherish and protect forever.
“Let’s decide after today’s match. Shall we?”
“Thank you for that alone.”
“Well then… it’s nice to meet you. I’m Fleta Presto von Deodore.”
“Rie Arche von Haniel. It’s an honor.”
The moment the formal greetings ended, the two women launched into motion at the same instant. The speed and precision of their movements were so fluid and terrifying that even seasoned warriors would have been hard-pressed to follow.
As the two figures clashed like storm and dragon, Michael stood transfixed, staring at one woman in particular.
“She’s truly beautiful.”
For three years at the academy, Michael had swung his sword through every spring without falling in love. But now, spring had finally come for him as well.