Ancient Kingdom Domain Siege (5)

I understood it in an instant.

The moment I met Camellia’s eyes, a certain intuition rose in me.

A longing stirred deep in my heart.

That gaze—like looking at an opponent too difficult to overcome. Desperately fanning the flames of competitive spirit, while somewhere unconscious mixed jet-black jealousy with pure-white envy.

I knew that kind of person far too well.

So I met the murderous spear head-on without flinching.

In a warrior’s one-on-one, the custom was to lightly clash blades to begin. But an assassin greets by throwing a weapon right from the start.

The hidden weapon aimed at my brow was blocked weakly and fell away.

“It’s been a while. Ah, mind if I drop the formalities? It’s not like this is our first meeting. And we’re enemies, after all.”

“As you like. Honestly, I never understood why you used honorifics on stream anyw—”

“What was that? Didn’t catch the last part.”

“Nothing.”

Ah, a familiar beginning.

Just like when we first met, the crescent blade ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came crashing down toward my shoulder. The way to handle it was no different from before either—I firmly stepped on the spear shaft.

Back then, I’d been far too slow reclaiming my spear. I’d yanked it up in such a rush that I’d even taken a counter.

Camellia had probably run simulations of that memory dozens, hundreds of times over.

—Back then. What should I have done to win?

Until the question in her heart was resolved.

“Let’s see how much you’ve improved.”

“Ha!”

Her expression was interesting. Pride wounded, her eyes twisted sharply—yet a strange smile still lingered at the corners of her mouth.

Being tested stung her pride, but the chance to prove herself made her heart race.

Back when I was deep into kendo, before my friend died, I’d always been in that exact state myself. I could no longer feel the same way now—but I understood that frustration and desperation better than anyone.

So I felt no anger in Camellia’s spear. Even though some amateur had dared tell a current first-string pro “show me your skill.”

The spear I’d pinned slipped free to the side. Good. That made it harder for me to keep her locked down—but her flank would be wide open now, wouldn’t it?

The instant I lunged to pierce the completely unguarded side, the spear shaft whipped up and aimed for my chin. The moment her weapon was free, she’d switched grips and moved the shaft first.

Just because you hold a spear doesn’t mean you have to attack only with the blade. Swordsmen used half-swording or Mordhau techniques against armored foes, after all. And this movement carried the air of someone who had already predicted exactly how I would come at her.

This was sturdier than I’d expected. I should have done more analysis. On top of that, I still had to keep other reinforcements in mind…

“Don’t worry. No one is coming. That was the condition for my joining.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“If Cross breaks the promise, I’ll fill your empty spot myself.”

“Isn’t that an unfair contract?”

She seemed to ponder the meaning. Then, as if she suddenly understood, Camellia’s teeth ground together with a sharp grit.

“There’s no way anyone else could fill my empty spot. If you’re lying, I’m the one who loses too much.”

This time, true rage finally rode the crescent blade. A series of bold, continuous strikes. The paths the edge traced felt oddly troublesome. The movements I needed for evasion grew larger than usual—I had to crouch deeply to duck, or else leap clean over. Attacks kept coming as if precisely targeting my height.

Thanks to that, even after dodging, my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turn never came back for long. At best I could only poke at extremities like wrists or the tops of feet.

A few news headlines that had flashed by recently floated up in my mind.

—Camellia Completely Crushes Sparrow! Perfected Anti-Assassin Style

—Camellia: “There’s someone I want to meet.”

Perfected anti-assassin style, huh. The wording felt a little off. What Camellia had prepared wasn’t an anti-assassin style—it would be more accurate to call it an anti-Gawol style. There was no other way she could attack as if she knew me this well.

Even Kelberos hadn’t analyzed me this thoroughly. Well, he’d had his own reasons for that.

The moment I claimed her back with shadow, the crescent blade came flying. I parried off the spear shaft after the failed attack. After stepping back one pace, I flung a knife at her brow.

There’s no way she’d take something like that.

I never expected her to from the start. But the dagger flying right up to her face would have definitely split her focus. The instant the knife bounced away, I pulled out clones—exactly left and right. I pressed Camellia with movements identical to the ones reserved for the clones.

The countermeasure she’d brought against my psychological warfare was…

She’d decided not to accept it from the beginning!

Using Warrior’s Spirit as ‘Mind’s Eye’ meant abandoning the ability to sense my stealth or position. She’d rather allow a surprise attack than fight me in a psychological war.

This was troublesome. I’d delayed my dodge too long pretending to be a clone. The spear blade tore through my shoulder.

If I had to give up an injury anyway, I was going to take something in return. I drove in even deeper and buried a dagger in her thigh.

I twisted the blade and ripped it free all the way to the hollow of her knee. Camellia’s elbow slammed into my back, but that much was bearable. The problem was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the spear tip already coming in at the exact point I needed to escape through.

Just as I hadn’t simply handed over a free point, Camellia was the same.

No choice. My shadow blurred and jet-black chains surged up. I seized the end of a chain and yanked it taut; Camellia’s spear shaft caught in the middle. That succeeded as a block. I’d meant to reverse-grip and swing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it, but my lacking strength stat held me back. The shaft moved so violently that I was half-flung away, forced to open distance.

“Ugh!”

“Don’t look down on me!”

She’d slipped into casual speech so naturally. Since I’d done it first, I supposed I had to let it slide?

The force driving her spear had changed. Rougher and more aggressive than before, yet the completeness hadn’t dropped. She seemed offended that I’d been holding back skills.

Well, I understood the feeling. The moment my friend thought I’d “gone easy” on him, I’d thrown every kind of fit myself.

But… that was that, and this was this. Winning this war wasn’t as simple as killing Camellia. I still had the next fight waiting.

“I never looked down on you. I just evaluated you coldly.”

I got that she’d analyzed me hard. I got that she’d worked herself bloody, and I fully understood how hard she’d driven herself. But you still weren’t at Kelberos’s level. I had no intention of pouring everything into you.

That spear existed solely to kill me. Camellia had tried to fill her lacking weight class with thorough analysis. So against me alone, she could inflate her weight class to look like a top-tier player.

Then how about this? Face not me—but the ones I’ve faced.

Right before the attack landed, I deliberately slowed the tempo by a single beat. Camellia’s expression, already moving her shaft in advance, flooded with bewilderment. Sometimes the slow was harder to handle than the fast. The off-beat that Ripper had made his specialty.

Camellia’s parry attempt failed, of course. I drove the blade into the back of her hand and dragged it free all the way past the wrist. Then I kicked the shaft she was trying to move again and shoved it away.

“Kelberos saw what you couldn’t. I don’t have habits or a fixed style. Just ways that feel comfortable to use.”

“Ugh!”

“Still, you’ve really improved a lot. Especially targeting my height—that was good. Polish it well and it’ll become a sharp weapon.”

Next was the binary choice Kelberos had forced on me. I stabbed the center of her collapsed guard while my left arm tested her liver. Would she give up the arm holding the spear, or simply abandon the attack?

Camellia’s choice was a shift to defense. Then I moved straight to the next question. Choose between the top of your right foot and your left thigh. Her answer came late. Then I’d take the left flank.

I twisted and snapped the blade I’d buried inside her. After stirring her insides once, I seized her face with my palm. I slammed her toward the ground and tried to shove the spear shaft down again with my rear foot.

Still a little short on strength? The spear I couldn’t fully push away finally stabbed into my calf. Luckily the right one. That had been close just now.

“Ha… that was dizzying.”

But it was over now. With the dagger I carved a long line from her side all the way under the armpit. Heavy bleeding followed; I pinned her flat to the floor and crushed her. Both hands together on the dagger, I stabbed for the heart.

More precisely, I tried to. Camellia only blocked it with hands that trembled violently.

“Giving up? Dragging this out any longer is just a waste of time. It’s pathetic.”

“Before that—answer me. Just one thing.”

“What answer?”

“Why… aren’t you going pro?”

“……Because I don’t want to.”

What an unpleasant question. I put even more force into both hands. A warrior’s strength might be higher than mine, but in this posture, in that state, she wouldn’t have enough left to hold out. Little by little my dagger drew closer to Camellia’s heart.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I know. That’s a lie.”

“What the hell do you think you know to say something like—”

“Answer me!”