Change (7)
Karl still remembered the first time he had ever sparred with Lucy.
The day he had nearly failed to control his temper and committed an unforgivable sin. The day the young lady's mercy alone had kept him from losing everything he dreamed of.
The Lucy of those days had been so frail it was hard to believe she was Benedict Aln's daughter. She couldn't manage even a short run without collapsing to the floor. The weight of shield and mace tossed her around like a rag doll. Her shield work was passable, at a generous glance, but her mace swings were a sorry sight.
Back then, Karl had never imagined Lucy would grow into anything great. Talent, after all, showed its first sprouts in childhood — to expect a steep transformation from her was not a hopeful observation but a blind, irrational faith.
And Karl had not been alone in that belief. Anyone who lived in the Aln domain — anyone who knew what kind of person Lucy Aln was — thought the same.
Yet a full year had passed since then, and in that time Lucy had proven, ostentatiously and repeatedly, the worth of the human she was. Through nothing but her own skill.
"Your attacks are a bit pathetic, don't you think?♡ If you want me to give up on you, you could just say so?♡"
"You act so composed, my lady, but I'd say there's rather a lot of tension in your lips at the moment!"
Karl furrowed his brow, forcing down the heat rising in his head.
To think I would find myself genuinely, seriously annoyed with the young lady.
The strengths Lucy was displaying right now were not one or two.
The first thing that caught the eye was a shield that was astonishingly, absurdly solid. Even with Karl's aura wrapping his blade as he hammered down at it, her shield bore not a single scratch — and that alone was enough to leave the opponent standing across from her gasping for breath.
But was it only the shield that was hard?
No.
The mace she gripped so firmly carried a latent power that even Karl found threatening. The instant he exposed even the smallest opening, her mace would snake into that gap and shatter some bone or other.
What made all this even more maddening was how completely Lucy understood both of these facts. She hid behind her shield and let impatience gnaw at her opponent, and the moment he committed to a desperate gambit to break through, she bared her mace and forced him to retreat.
And if he blundered in the process? She swung the mace and crushed him.
Combined clumsily, this offense-and-defense style would leave both halves half-baked — but with Lucy, no such worry was necessary. She had weathered too much experience to make mistakes that clumsy.
Knowing her strengths and fighting in a way that maximized them. It sounded like nothing when put into words, and yet how many fighters failed to uphold that obvious principle?
To think she built her entire combat style from the ground up in a single year.
By now, calling her a knight in her own right would raise no objections at all.
So how was one supposed to fight it? When the opponent insisted on staying rooted in her strengths, what was to be done?
Somehow, he had to force her to abandon those strengths. Drag her out of her domain and into his own.
Any seasoned knight knew this, and Karl had both the knowledge and the skill to execute it.
And yet he could not escape Lucy's domain.
"Defeat-dog♡ Where should I put you up for adoption?♡ I doubt anywhere would take a washed-up old hound like you, but I suppose I could ask around for you♡"
"For your information, my lady, I am in rather high demand!"
Every time Lucy's voice rang out, heat flooded into Karl's skull. His reason frayed, little by little. No matter how hard he steadied his mind, at some point his sword was already advancing on its own.
And so Karl had no choice but to dance, helplessly, within Lucy's domain.
Hoo. Truly, the young lady is far too troublesome an opponent to have as an enemy.
Unless one simply overpowered her with raw skill and strength, she was the sort of opponent one simply could not beat.
Could a fighter of her own level — or below her — actually break out of her domain?
They would be toyed with until their reason evaporated, and then they'd be fed to the mace.
One day, perhaps, that would be me too.
But not yet. Not yet can I afford to lose to the young lady.
After all, if I did, I might end up just as she says — abandoned, a poor stray dog.
My achievements at her side were unremarkable as it was; if I were discarded now, I'd go down in history not as a knight from a bard's tale, but as a failure bandied about by some gossiper's tongue.
So let me show her.
Let me show this knight.
Show this knight — her dog — just how sharp his fangs truly are.
Karl evaded the shield hurtling at his face and took a step back. In the stillness that opened up between them, Lucy stood quietly, watching his movements.
"Tired already, loser-dog?♡"
"No, my lady. As you well know, a knight of House Aln can keep moving through sleepless nights for a week or more."
"Then why'd you run away?♡ Scared?♡ Afraid it'll go owwy if my mace hits you?♡"
"Maintaining this distance lets me show you what I intend to unfold."
Karl said this with a smile, and poured color into his aura.
Just as he had against Duke Burrow not long ago — a white aura, like snowflakes caught in the light, enveloped his sword.
"Allow me to show you the sword a knight of House Aln carries."
The origin and the aspiration of House Aln's swordsmanship: a single strike of near-limitless power.
Lady Lucy. I bid you feel for yourself how sharp the fangs your knight possesses truly are.
The moment Karl raised his sword overhead, Lucy said nothing at all. She simply let a smile play at the corner of her mouth and pushed her shield forward.
And then her divinity gathered upon it.
Anyone could see it. This was no ordinary divinity. Thick and warm and noble, it took a shape entirely unlike what most people knew.
Yet no one who witnessed it ever claimed it wasn't divinity. Quite the opposite — those who saw the divinity engraved upon that shield found themselves thinking that everything they had seen before was counterfeit, and that this was the genuine article.
That was how wondrous Lucy's divinity was — how aw-inspiring.
"Come at me♡ Loser-dog♡ Let's see how blunt those worn-down teeth of yours really are♡"
"Yes, my lady. Here I come."
Karl took a step forward.
Lucy took a step forward.
His sword rose overhead.
The divinity gathered before her shield formed a new shield above it.
And he brought down every ounce of power he carried in a single stroke.
Before his eyes, she had reproduced an anecdote of the Hero.
To summarize the results of my spar with Karl in a single word: I lost.
By my original goal, I did manage to force him to put color into his aura, and I somehow held an answer to his attacks. But blocking a strike with your shield doesn't mean your body comes out unscathed — so in the end I was whittled down and defeated.
And since Karl looked composed right up to the final moment, he clearly wasn't going all out. That guy is genuinely, disgustingly strong.
"The more I think about it, the more I'd say your knight has long since left mere paladin level far behind."
'I was thinking the same thing.'
Even I, at my current level, could beat any ordinary knight without much trouble — and I still couldn't reach Karl.
Considered one trait at a time, Karl was frankly over-spec'd. Great face, decent personality, capable, and still young enough to be considered promising.
Set aside one single flaw, and he was practically superhuman.
Set aside, of course, his warped sense of loyalty that made him want to be treated like a dog by his own master.
...Honestly, when I really thought about it, that flaw was enormous. One extra line in his profile, and he went from ideal knight to a pervert hiding a twisted fetish. No one can be perfect, sure, but wasn't this flaw a bit too large?
"Well. Thanks to how strong he is, at least we learned how far your abilities have grown."
'It's true that everything improved across the board.'
I was stronger overall — but what stood out most was my command of divinity.
The old me had struggled to handle it. Practicing with Grandpa, my skill had climbed steadily, but I was still far from the level where I could wield it exactly as I wished.
Not anymore. The body transformed by my risen divinity now moved that holy power as naturally as breathing.
The moment I truly felt that change was when I reproduced the Hero's anecdote against Karl's aura. Before, I'd never managed to recreate that shield art perfectly — now I'd come so close to the original that even Grandpa had been impressed.
Factor in that I still hadn't fully adapted to my changed body, and before long I might not only reproduce his shield arts but surpass them entirely — wield shield arts even greater than Grandpa's own.
Fufufu. I look forward to it.
When that day comes, I'm going to pretend the Mesugaki skill left me no choice and call him my useless old grandpa. It'll be hilarious for sure.
"Third Prince. Giving up already?"
"What nonsense! If anyone is worn out, it is you!"
It was the voices of Arthur and Frey that dragged me out of my daydream about that future, mid-laugh. Almost before my spar with Karl had ended, the two of them had started their own, swinging swords at each other without yielding a single inch.
Hearing the situation from Joy apparently lit a fire under them — or so I gathered from the way they'd been burning up watching me move. I don't know the details, but if they'd found the drive to get stronger, that was a good thing.
"Just surrender quietly!"
"Losing, so the mouth gets busier. Pathetic."
...It was the drive to get stronger, right? Because watching them spar, all I felt was two people trying to strangle each other.
"Honestly. They really are just children still."
Joy gave an awkward laugh at the sight of the two of them.
You're right, Joy. Those two are hopeless brats.
But, you see.
'And yet the young lady would say...'
"Not really the sort of thing an airhead should say — one whose curls are all spinning off to the same side, hmm?"
"...I'm sorry, what?"
Had she simply never noticed her own hair was wrong? She blinked for a moment, then conjured a mirror with magic, took one look at her reflection — and froze solid.
"Wh... since when has it been like this?"
'Since the beginning, actually.'
"Since when? Since the moment you walked out of your room, Airhead Lady. Obviously."
Hearing my answer, Joy flushed scarlet, mumbled something about needing a moment to fix herself, and hurriedly fled the sparring hall.
Was it really that embarrassing? I thought it was kind of cute, honestly.
"My lady."
Before I'd even finished being left alone, Karl came to my side.
'Yes?'
"What is it?"
"The Dungeon Studies professor asked me to pass along a message."
The Dungeon Studies professor? Why would that person need to see me?
As I tilted my head, unable to guess at anything, Karl continued.
"It concerns the final exams. I only overheard the details, my lady, but he seems to wish to entrust you with the design of the final exam dungeon."