One Stroke to Crush the Arrogant Heir
"I challenge you to a duel!"
"A duel...?"
"With that body?"
"Challenging the young master? Does she even know who she's picking a fight with...?"
The gang following Lorenzo around buzzed with agitation, revealing no small amount of bewilderment.
But Lorenzo just grinned ferociously and accepted my proposal.
"Ha. Fine, Ilisha von Airvalt. I accept your duel. You don't mind if I decide the venue and rules, right?"
It was better to let him set the stage than me. From what I could guess, he'd blow it up huge.
He'd have his lackeys spread rumors across the entire academy that the Southern Duke's heir was dueling the Northern Duke's daughter.
Pack the place with spectators, then either force me to forfeit or beat me down and humiliate me.
Exactly what I wanted.
The more people, the faster the rumors would spread.
"As long as the weapons are swords, I don't care about anything else."
I added that they had to fight with swords.
I had zero confidence in anything but swordsmanship.
"Pfft, pwahaha! Swords, huh? Fine! I'll gladly fight you with swords."
Hearing that, Lorenzo burst into roaring laughter as he fiddled with the sword at his waist.
I'd half-worried he might pretend to be crazy and demand fists, but relief.
"Don't go blubbering and begging to stop midway, Northern girl."
"Who knows?"
One thing was certain: sword on sword, you were going down. I smirked inwardly as I watched him hype up the event.
The rumors spread like wildfire.
The venue was set for the Swordsmanship Hall, with some professor I'd never heard of as the referee.
Rules were simple: first to admit defeat or unable to stand loses. Swords only.
Arrogance dripped from those rules—like squashing someone like me would be a breeze.
Perfect for me, of course.
Simple rules are the best, right?
He even offered me a chance to send a proxy, but I kicked it away.
Didn't need that crap.
Stepping into the Swordsmanship Hall turned dueling ground, I was greeted by the beautiful clamor of a massive crowd.
All those eyes on me.
My body trembled.
Not from fear—from joy.
Euphoria surged from my heart, flooding my entire body as I approached Lorenzo, who was already in position.
"If you're backing out, now's your last chance. Bow in front of everyone and beg 'Please forgive me'—I might let it slide?"
Whether he just wanted to humiliate me in public or not, he sneered that this was my final opportunity.
"Let me make a counteroffer. This is your last chance to walk out on two legs. Running away wouldn't be shameful at all?"
Of course, if he actually bolted, I'd be disappointed—but for his image's sake, I at least formally expressed concern.
"Think that bluff's gonna work?"
Lorenzo, predictably, ignored it.
If anything, he got pissed, adopting an even fiercer demeanor.
"Lorenzo, no matter how I look at it, this duel is..."
Only the referee professor, sweating bullets, tried voicing doubts, but that just provoked him more.
"Professor, she challenged me first, not the other way around!"
"He's right, Professor. I appreciate the concern, but could we get started?"
With me chiming in, the professor made a miserable face, clearly reluctant.
"I did try to stop you... But since you both agree, we, we begin."
As he tossed his handkerchief skyward, fiery fire-attribute ether began coating Lorenzo's drawn sword.
That red ether mass instantly morphed into roaring flames.
Aura. Or sword ki, as some called it.
A feat where an advanced swordsman compresses and refines their body's ether onto the blade.
Turning it on right at the start? No games—he meant to flatten me immediately.
Or maybe just kill me outright?
Protective magic was cast pre-duel to prevent serious injury, but that level of aura looked like it could punch through.
Now I got why he'd laughed so hard when I specified swords.
At his age, achieving that meant he was pretty talented among swordsmen.
So yeah, a frail-looking girl like me picking swords must've been hilarious.
"I don't enjoy crushing the weak, but trampling the clueless...!"
Lorenzo poised to charge, face already smug with victory.
But hey.
When a frail-looking girl specifically calls out swords, shouldn't you show some caution?
You never know.
She might be a monster with a blade.
"Sss..."
Hand on the hilt, I circulated the stagnant ice-attribute ether in my body.
As the frozen ether shattered into motion, agony tore through my meridians—like marrow freezing solid.
Blame the overflowing ice ether devouring my lifespan.
"...Haaa."
Stepping forward, I deployed the excess through my foot into the surroundings.
Legs numbing to the bone, frost crept over the dueling ground, freezing it solid.
"What the—"
Lorenzo, mid-charge pose, froze like a statue.
Not because his shoes stuck—his eyes were glued to his own sword.
Shocked, no doubt.
His proudly blazing aura was being suppressed by my ether.
That fierce flame had shrunk to match his petty soul sometime when I wasn't looking.
Victory faded from his face.
The crowd hushed too, sensing something off.
Now they'd watch me instead of him, right?
Worth spewing ether wildly for the impact.
Sure, I'd be hacking and coughing for a while, but who cared.
To seize everyone's attention, you had to perform.
Plus, we had a saintess to heal me.
"Admit defeat now, and you won't get hurt."
Lorenzo, dazed by my ether, scowled at my words and wrapped his sword in aura again—this time for real, flames fiercer than before.
"I'll split that arrogant face before you even draw...!"
Oh, so earlier he planned to go easy?
He charged at terrifying speed.
Fast. Not quite Father-level, though.
I gripped the hilt tighter, casually thinking, then crammed massive ether through my hand into the blade.
Compressed and compressed again, a thin layer over the sword—to end it in one swing.
Imitating Father's aura blade.
My gripping hand went numb. Forearm like it'd been dunked in ice water—painfully cold.
But thrilling.
This'd make a hell of a sight.
I stood still, waiting for him to enter range.
Focus sharpening till the crowd faded, his moves slowed to a crawl.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
"Haaa—"
Now.
Before he could swing, faster still.
I slashed.
Flawless single stroke.
Over in a blink—no time for sound.
Shrick.
Lorenzo staggered next instant.
Clang!
His sword shattered in two as he tried to swing.
"—Aaaargh!!!"
His scream finally erupted.
By the time time resumed normal flow, he collapsed trembling, hand shaking.
He stared at me, face screaming confusion.
Eyes pleading pain, mouth agape.
Still asking 'how?'
Fair enough.
One exchange, done.
I sheathed as he rolled on the ground.
His broken sword scattered; protective magic shards fluttered around him.
Couldn't handle my strike's power—frozen blood trails lined his arm and shoulder.
Shallow-looking cut, but insides ravaged by frostbite.
I'd released compressed ether in that split second.
Could've killed him.
Didn't want to.
Didn't wanna torch my bridge with Lucia.
Sliced his pride—his sword—instead.
Miscut into flesh? Price of his arrogance.
"...Haaa."
Exhaling, cold breath smoked out.
Suddenly, dead silence.
Glancing around, everyone gawked in disbelief.
Success?
"Th-the winner is... Ilisha. Ilisha von Airvalt!!!"
Referee's declaration unleashed the pent-up roar.
Cheers and screams mingled in chaos.
Center: me.
Ah... yes. This.
Perfect. So damn good.
Body aching from overworking ether, but grins leaked out.
Bowing to the crowd like a greeting—that's when.
"Cough, hack...! Gack, cough, keh... kehk...!"
My frail body exacted payment for the overexertion.
Ah, bad timing.
I wanna be the sickly but strong beauty, not strong but sickly!
"Cough, hack...! Gack, cough, keh... kehk...!"
Ern watched Ilisha cough up blood-mixed phlegm.
'Her condition matches Ilisha von Airvalt perfectly.'
His gaze held thick doubt.
He hadn't known pre-regression Ilisha well.
Never had the time or access to approach her.
Alive or dead, used as a corpse.
Couldn't reach her.
Couldn't save her.
So now, staring at this Ilisha, confusion roiled deep.
Why was academy-recluse Ilisha here?
Why so strong?
And if she was out and about like this...
Can I save her this time?
Ern's mind grew tangled.