Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Prodigal Behavior Knows No Gender Distinction (2)
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Just like that, I figured out why that wastrel had committed such a deplorable act.
The childish impulse of a boy flipping up the skirt of a girl he liked, or the twisted advances of a man with a foul temper. Something along those lines, anyway.
If it wasn't that, then his eyes must have rotted out.
But I knew better than anyone that his eyes were perfectly fine. Those eyes were now mine, and through them, I beheld her flawless figure without the slightest distortion.
Disgust flickered across Arwen Kirguyen's face.
"Your Highness hasn't changed a bit."
It was a voice as cold and parched as a biting gale—yet so beautiful you wanted to hear it again and again.
"I beg to differ. I've changed a ton."
Changed? Hell, the core of my being had been completely swapped out, making me an entirely different entity. But she had no way of knowing that, so she ignored my words entirely.
She just glared at me with sharpened eyes.
"Count Bail Ballerhard has arrived."
While I was admiring her beauty for a moment, my uncle had shown up.
"Probationary Knight Arwen Kirguyen of the Iron Lion Knight Order, at your service, Count Bail Ballerhard."
Spotting my uncle, Arwen Kirguyen snapped a crisp salute. It was the classic knight's greeting—right fist pressed to the chest over the heart.
"Lady Arwen. How fares your father?"
Whether from prior acquaintance or not, my uncle greeted her with unusual warmth.
"Thanks to your concern, he is well."
"Good to hear. Though..."
My uncle shot me a dirty look. It was the kind of gaze that demanded to know just what the hell I'd done to earn her grudge.
Of course, I had zero intention of answering, so I neatly ignored it.
"Tch."
Clicking his tongue in disapproval, my uncle turned back to Arwen Kirguyen.
"Take care out there."
"Where'd you sell off the observer's neutrality?"
"The prince's tongue is as venomous as ever."
Just as I'd done, my uncle brushed off my remark without a second thought.
But Arwen Kirguyen merely nodded formally in acknowledgment of his advice, offering rote thanks.
With no more meddling in mind, my uncle soon withdrew and declared the duel underway.
"Begin."
No sooner had the word left his mouth than Arwen Kirguyen's eyes flashed. A streak of bluish light hurtled toward my midsection.
Clang!
Having prepared in advance, I blocked her sword strike with ease. In that split second of blades clashing, a bizarre wave invaded me.
Urk.
My chest heaved. My mana heart screamed as if tormented by dozens of mana rings. An utterly unforeseen assault, but I didn't let it show.
Not with those raptor-like eyes still fixed on me, waiting for prey.
Whoosh!
A second attack sliced through the air with a shrill whistle, carving a line from my crown to my crotch.
Hup.
One step sideways, then a spin. Before the sword wind grazing past me could dissipate, I thrust forward.
The centrifugal strike swept toward her waist.
Instead of retreating, she dove into my guard and shoved my hand aside. My line broke instantly, and my attack fizzled out.
She counterattacked.
Her knee rocketed up, slamming my side. I folded my arm and twisted my waist to disperse the impact.
My body jolted upward.
I didn't resist—just let myself rebound backward. Her sword pursued relentlessly.
Clang!
Harsh metallic rings echoed in rapid succession, sparks flying in the air. I backpedaled several steps, parrying her blade.
My insides churned. The mana within rioted.
But there was no time to calm it. Arwen Kirguyen's sword was relentless, denying me even a breath.
This duel was perfectly tuned to her rhythm.
Tch.
I needed to drag the tempo my way. It wasn't hard—just plant a single sword in my mind.
The mana in my heart, quaking under the rings' grip, settled in an instant. Then it surged through my body.
That moment, our swords collided.
Boom!
Arwen Kirguyen flew backward—or appeared to. In truth, she'd withdrawn on her own. My Dragon Slayer Sword, baring its fangs for the kill, ended up looking foolish.
"Hm."
Surprise? Frustration? Her expression from afar was a tangled mess.
[A talent properly trained in swordsmanship at the knight order.]
[Even formal knights struggle against her in sparring...]
[Which is why I said to be careful...]
Kals Yulihi's advice replayed in my head.
"Not all single rings are created equal, huh."
A provincial noble's apprentice knight and a probationary knight from the kingdom's elite order were worlds apart. She was too skilled to lump in with the rest.
But that was it.
Her status window had appeared moments ago.
With my limited Appraisal, I could only see those weaker than or equal to me.
Which meant I held no disadvantage against her.
Of course, her potential dwarfed mine by a mile.
But at this point in time, she wasn't beyond my reach.
Especially not with the sword in my hand.
A true dragon sword forged to slay colossal beasts no human could stand against. It was absurd to think it couldn't handle a mere she-lion.
"Kah! Ptoo!"
I spat a bloody glob. Then gripped my sword two-handed.
"Now, let's get to the real fight."
I kicked off the ground with explosive force.
"Hah. Hah."
"Huff. Huff."
Ragged breaths mingled in the air. There was Arwen Kirguyen, fighting spirit unbroken despite heaving with exhaustion, shoulders rising and falling.
Gone was her initial prim composure. Her tightly bound hair had come loose, half-obscuring her face, and her disheveled clothes were torn and slashed in places—an utter mess.
She looked like a total maniac.
But I couldn't mock her. I was just as wrecked.
"Enough. That's it for today."
Just as we eyed each other's openings, my uncle called off the duel.
"Tch. I was about to wrap it up."
"What a coincidence. I was on the verge myself."
Letting my sword droop, I tossed out a line, and Arwen Kirguyen fired right back without missing a beat.
"Wanna keep going?"
"If Your Highness wishes, as much as you like."
"Cut it out! Healers, tend to them at once."
At my uncle's sharp command, the waiting royal physician and attendants rushed over.
"My, my, look at those bruises. I'll patch you right up, so bear with it just a moment."
I entrusted my body to the physician's hands and glanced at Arwen Kirguyen. Right then, she turned her head my way.
Our eyes met in midair.
She looked like she might say something, but just glared before stalking off. Soon after she left, my uncle departed the training grounds too, and I staggered back to my chambers.
I collapsed onto the bed.
Exhausted. Truly spent. Mana and stamina fully depleted. I wanted nothing more than to pass out, but I forced myself upright.
I had to refill my near-empty mana heart. Otherwise, I couldn't swing my sword fresh again tomorrow.
The second day ended in a draw too, leaving us to face the final day of our promised duel without a victor.
"Begin."
As always, my uncle signaled the start. Arwen Kirguyen gripped her sword, eyes gleaming, her whole body radiating intent to settle things today.
"Hold up."
I raised a hand to her.
"Got something to say."
Arwen Kirguyen lowered her sword and looked at me.
"I won't accept an apology."
She drew a hard line. Not mere words—she meant to reclaim her wounded pride through her own efforts.
Admirable, really. But I ignored it.
What I had to say wasn't an apology.
"We've gone at it this hard, but no prize? That sit right with you?"
Her face twisted as if I'd insulted her.
Whoops. Too blunt with my wording?
I regretted the careless choice, but the words were out—no taking them back.
"Loser grants the winner one request. Sound good?"
She pretended not to hear. As expected. I dangled a bait she'd bite.
"Kneel if I say kneel, grovel and apologize if I say so. If I lose, that is."
"Y-Your Highness!"
The ones who took it were the Royal Knights, of all people.
"Please retract that!"
"Retract it, I beg you!"
My uncle, standing off at a distance, scolded me too.
"How about a little more awareness of your position?"
"Does righting a wrong care about rank? What's a knee or two?"
"Your actions alone could tarnish the royal family's honor..."
"My wastrel ways dragging us down? Or fixing my mistakes doing more damage?"
Sophistry if it was sophistry, truism if it was a truism. My uncle opened his mouth for rebuttal, but I beat him to it.
"Anyway, what's your take?"
Arwen Kirguyen addressed my uncle, not me.
"I dare not commit such irreverence."
She'd keep it within bounds to spare the royal dignity. Effectively agreeing to my proposal.
"Smart girl."
With that, she readjusted her grip on her sword.
"Not curious what I'll ask for?"
"If I lose, do with me as Your Highness wills."
Her face said she didn't believe she'd lose, despite her words.
"Talking big. What if I ask something weird?"
"That will never happen."
Her resolve was ironclad.
"Fine. No backing out later."
Instead of answering, she vibrated her sword tip.
Kneeling, Arwen Kirguyen looked up at me.
"How...?"
Her face and voice brimmed with disbelief.
I chuckled at the sight.
The path differed, but she'd ended up like every duel opponent before: same expression, same line, refusing to accept defeat.
"Well done."
I gave her the same reply I'd given the others.
At my playful tone, her face went slack with dismay. She couldn't comprehend her loss.
She must've thought we were even. Neck-and-neck, a hair's breadth apart. One more push, and her revenge would be hers.
That's what I'd led her to believe.
"So, about that request."
Arwen Kirguyen paled. Finally realizing what she'd done.
"I—"
Looking down at her, I flashed a brilliant smile.