The Weak and the Strong (2)

"Ugh!"

Rayna's head snapped to the side.

A jarring impact struck her cheek with enough force to split the skin, and the shockwave rattled her brain.

Her mind went blank—white as a sheet.

Getting struck in the face mid-swordfight. That was a moment anyone would find humiliating.

But Kyle didn't stop.

"Your lower body's been trained decently well."

Kyle's voice rang out cold as ice.

Immediately, his foot swept Rayna's leg out from under her.

Crack!

"Agh…!"

Her cheek already stinging, all the strength drained from her body, and Rayna collapsed to the ground.

She dropped to her knees on the floor.

Yet even then, she refused to let go of her sword.

Her left hand pressed against the ground to brace herself, while her right hand struggled to raise the blade.

In that instant—

Smack!

Kyle's palm struck Rayna's wrist.

"Aaagh!"

A choked cry of agony tore from Rayna's lips.

The pain was so severe it felt like her wrist bones were shattering, and all the strength drained from her grip.

Clang—

Her sword clattered to the floor.

Rayna lay on the cold ground, cheek swollen red, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Her wrist throbbed, refusing to obey her.

Even so, she still reached out desperately, trying to grab the sword.

But Kyle's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foot came down mercilessly on her hand.

"Hngh!"

Rayna gritted her teeth and looked up at him.

Kyle gazed down at her and smiled—a smile that was clearly mocking.

Then he lifted the foot that had been pressing down on her hand and pinned her back to the ground with it.

"Augh…!"

Rayna's body crumpled under the weight of his foot, collapsing back to the floor.

"The victor has been decided."

In the silence, Graham nodded his head.

"Duel concluded."

His gaze turned to Kyle.

"The victory goes to Lord Kyle Hartvalt."

The declaration of victory fell.

Kyle lifted his foot.

Then he looked down at Rayna, who was swaying unsteadily, trying to rise to her knees.

"Ha!"

Now he laughed outright.

"They call you a genius knight of the Northern Grand Duchy, and that is your true strength?"

Rayna bit her lip.

She bit down too hard—blood welled from the wound.

But she couldn't feel the pain.

She was furious.

Humiliated.

Yet she had no rebuttal.

She had lost. She was the defeated.

Kyle slowly raised his hand to Rayna's head.

Then he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up rough.

"Now then."

The corner of his mouth twisted.

"Do you remember our wager? Shall we exercise the winner's right?"

"……!"

Rayna's face went deathly pale.

The wager—that only the victor owned everything—flashed through her mind.

Kyle grinned playfully.

"I won't be bored when I go to bed tonight."

The words were mercilessly cruel.

Rayna gritted her teeth.

Her eyes trembled.

But that tremor soon hardened into desperate resolve.

"I am a knight. I will not live as your plaything…."

Her voice shook.

But it did not break.

She spoke with a fierce conviction.

"Rather than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠live as a mere ornament, I would rather die."

Kyle regarded her for a moment.

And then—

"Puhahahahahaha!"

He burst into laughter.

Releasing her hair, Kyle kept on laughing.

Rayna's expression hardened under his shameless mockery.

Kyle laughed for a long while before finally composing himself.

Then he looked down at Rayna with a sneer.

"Die, you say?"

A crimson glow surged across Kyle's green eyes.

"Go ahead and kill me."

Rayna answered through clenched teeth, cold as ice.

"You?"

Kyle asked, his tone glacial.

"Do you really think you can decide that however you like?"

Rayna's eyes trembled.

"You only have two choices."

He looked down at the sword lying on the ground.

"Do you want to die like a dog right here…"

Then his gaze shifted back to Rayna.

"Or do you want to crawl away alive, filthy as you are?"

Rayna gritted her teeth.

"Kill me then!"

"Submit to me. Follow me, and you'll be given a chance."

Kyle extended his hand.

His palm settled atop Rayna's disheveled black hair—like stroking a beast of burden he meant to tame.

Rayna tried to shrug off his touch.

"I said kill me! Or I'll kill myself!"

She scrambled along the ground.

Her hand reached toward the fallen sword.

She meant to slash her own throat and end this humiliation.

But—

Crunch!

"Agh!"

Kyle's foot stamped down on Rayna's hand.

This wasn't restraint—it went beyond simply pressing down.

His foot bore down with enough force to shatter her hand bones.

"Don't you dare die on me somewhere like this. Dying isn't that easy."

His voice dropped low.

"Don't get it twisted."

Kyle tilted his head down to look at Rayna.

Then he spoke with a sneer, his icy face and frigid voice dripping with mockery.

"The weak don't get to choose even death as they please."

Rayna swallowed her breath.

"If you slit your own throat and die here, do you really think people will remember you as a knight?"

Kyle's words cut deep.

"No. Though they called you a genius, in the end you'll be remembered as a loser who couldn't break past the limits of a commoner, and who took her own life out of shame after losing to a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠scoundrel."

Then Kyle corrected himself.

"No—thinking about the rumors about me, they'll probably say you waited until you were thoroughly stained, and then killed yourself."

Rayna's eyes trembled.

"A pitiful woman who was treated as an ornament her whole life and never managed to shed that role. That's all dying would amount to."

Those words struck Rayna's deepest wound.

The years she had been excluded because she was a woman.

The memories of grinding away at accomplishments only to be pushed aside.

The reality of wielding a sword yet still being treated like a decoration.

All of it came flooding back at once.

"Do you want to look like a coward and run away? Or do you want to become strong and tear into me?"

Kyle's foot lifted from her hand.

"Make your choice."

Rayna said nothing.

The will to end her own life faltered.

Rage rose again—

From a place deeper than humiliation.

The thought that it was unfair to end it like this surged up.

The desire to survive reared its head.

'I don't want it to end like this.'

It wasn't simply a desire to live.

'I want to become strong.'

She didn't want to be trampled anymore.

She didn't want to live as someone's ornament anymore.

She didn't want to endure her own sword being denied anymore.

'I want to grow stronger as a knight, as a swordsman.'

Rayna looked up at Kyle with a face twisted by pain.

She felt the tears of resentment and fury and despair welling up.

But the longing to clutch at even a straw followed close behind.

The burning desire for power surged mightily within her.

In a voice tangled with all of that, Rayna asked carefully:

"…If I follow you."

Her lips trembled.

"Can I become strong?"

It was a wretched question.

To the man who had trampled her.

To the man who had humiliated her.

To the man who had pushed her to the brink of being a plaything.

She was asking him.

But the instinct of a swordsman—of a warrior—whispered to her just now.

This man's strength was real.

This man's sword existed in a place she could never reach alone, no matter how long she trained.

No—perhaps this man was the only one who knew the way.

Kyle smiled as if he'd been waiting for that question.

He extended his hand to Rayna again.

This time, he placed it gently atop her head.

"Of course."

A cruel yet strangely captivating smile spread across his lips.

Or perhaps it only looked captivating to Rayna's eyes.

"If you submit to me, you will no longer be anyone's ornament."

Rayna stared at him blankly.

Kyle's gaze.

It didn't look like simple desire to use her as a plaything.

Something else was visible in it.

A longing to tend to a treasure that had fallen into his palm.

A longing that wouldn't settle for something as simple as a plaything.

A longing to shape Rayna however he pleased.

"Let me make you into a strong one."

Kyle extended his hand before her.

"Grab my hand, and you'll become a strength that makes today look like nothing. No one will be able to look down on you again."

Rayna swallowed.

Kyle nudged the fallen sword across the floor with his toe.

The blade slid within reach of her hand.

"Are you going to whimper and squirm while I step on you?"

His voice was cold.

"Or are you going to grow your strength under me, and tear apart and crush everything that steps on you?"

Rayna couldn't answer.

But her hand moved—slowly.

Her trembling fingertips touched the hilt of the sword on the ground.

Kyle watched that and smiled.

"Choose, Rayna Garo'en."

His voice echoed through the closed training arena.

"Be trampled as the weak…"

Kyle continued.

"Or crawl your way to becoming the strong."

Hearing those words, Rayna was silent for a moment.

The Grand Duchy's knight brigade.

The Golden Lion Knight Brigade.

The place she had devoted her life to serving.

But that place had never acknowledged her as a knight.

She had been nothing more than a decorative ornament waiting to be claimed.

A dream with no hope to begin with.

If so, she wanted to seize that dream by any means necessary.

Arriving at that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠conclusion, Rayna gritted her teeth and spoke.

"There is one thing I ask you promise."

"Go ahead."

"If you make me strong, I will be loyal. But if you break that promise, I will try to kill you at any time. Is that acceptable?"

At Rayna's words, Kyle let out a sharp laugh.

"Of course. If you try to sneak up on me while I'm sleeping and stab me with a knife, I won't care."

Upon hearing that, Rayna nodded.

She knelt on one knee.

"Rayna of the Garo'en household. I swear my loyalty to Lord Kyle Hartvalt. I renounce all positions as a knight of the Grand Duchy, and my sword shall serve only Lord Kyle's sword, so long as the promise is kept."

At those words, Kyle smiled with satisfaction and replied:

"Kyle Hartvalt, heir to the Hartvalt Grand Duchy, accepts your loyalty."

Kyle's eyes flooded with crimson.