Chapter 48

Humans often find themselves victims of poor timing.

It’s a common occurrence—things happening at the absolute worst possible moment. When the timing is truly abysmal, you start to wonder if you’re cursed or if your luck has simply run dry. However, since I keep luck-boosting power stones in my room, my fortune should be well above average.

Thus, the universal truth holds: whatever is meant to happen will happen, regardless of luck. In front of Rosalind’s room, where some sort of groaning could be heard from within, Amal and I exchanged looks.

“I don’t quite get it, but did I come at a really bad time?”

“Hmm, I don’t think Rosalind-san is the type to keep things she wouldn’t want seen in her room, but… she did slam the door the second she saw your face, Senior.”

“Maybe it’s that? You know, how girls feel like they have to fix their appearance before going out or receiving guests?”

Even though I was in casual wear, the sword at my hip made it clear I was a knight, which technically made me her superior in rank. She might have run off to put on makeup out of professional courtesy.

One thing that shocked me when I first came to the capital was the power of a woman’s makeup.

It’s not that they’re ever unattractive normally, but the girls who head into town on their days off with a full face of makeup look so beautiful you’d think they’d swapped their heads for different ones. Even Sedona manages to rank up significantly with makeup, so I’ve felt a shiver of dread realizing why they’re so obsessed with it.

Thinking it would be rude to wait too close to the door—it felt like eavesdropping—I stepped back a bit. Amal then gave my shoulder a modest little poke.

“What’s up?”

“Um… I’m happy to have you train me, but are you really going to make Rosalind-san give up on joining the Pig-Hunt Knights, Senior?”

“I have to think about the future of the order, too. I don’t plan on making light of the decision, but that’s the general direction I’m taking.”

“…It’s sad when adults just decide your future for you.”

“Ugh…”

Amal’s eyes were slightly accusatory as she grumbled.

It’s true that trying to warp a young person’s path for the sake of “adult circumstances” isn’t exactly a praiseworthy act. Had I turned into a jaded adult without even noticing? I felt as though the green days of my youth had drifted into the distant horizon.

However, suppressing the individual for the sake of the collective is a necessity in society. Besides, people who can lead a life choosing only their ideals and hopes are rare. Since we have our own circumstances to deal with, I couldn’t just back down simply because I felt sorry for her. Come on, me! Show your junior the grit of an adult’s way of life!

“…If I meet her and see that her resolve is the real deal, I won’t force her to stop.”

“Senior! I… I knew I could believe in you!!”

“Hahaha, well, I do care about my juniors… Sigh.”

“Squish!” Amal hugged my arm and rubbed her cheek against it. As she shook me, I put on a dry smile. Apparently, “an adult’s way of life” actually referred to giving non-committal, iridescent answers that ensured nobody hated you. I was officially a sycophant.

Laugh if you want at how easily I was swayed by emotion. Still, remembering the days of my own youth when I’d barked in protest at being told to give up on being a knight, I felt I had no right to deny Amal’s words. It was a classic case of “look who’s talking.”

‘Besides, even if she is from a Ducal house, she’s the type of girl who’d threaten her instructor at her age. She might have actually considered the risks of joining our order.’

If she said she could overcome those risks, then I had no further complaints.

In that case, we would stand on the battlefield together.

A few minutes later, after her “wardrobe change.”

“Good day to you, Knight Varna. Your brave name echoes throughout the country now. It is an honor to meet such a young, renowned master of the blade, one truly fit to stand at the kingdom’s peak.”

Rosalind emerged from her room and gave a graceful, noble greeting that showed absolutely no trace of the preceding “Wha?” My guess was that she was either a perfectionist or incredibly stubborn.

She possessed the distinct aura of high nobility—dignified yet soft. Her physique was lean and trained without losing its femininity. Her beautiful blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail, stripped away any sense of “weakness” from her lovely frame, leaving only beauty and strength.

Seeing her like that, a comment slipped out.

“You’re completely different from your first reaction.”

“I told you I’d let you forget that, so please—forget it…”

‘Rosalind-san’s blushing face is so cute…’

Rosalind’s voice was a squeezed-out mumble as her face turned beet red. The way she desperately tried to suppress her true feelings was a fresh reaction I hadn’t seen from the other women I’d dealt with. It made me want to tease her for no particular reason just to see how she’d react.

However, once I explained the situation—that I was here to train Amal and wanted her to join in—her eyes flashed with a glint reminiscent of a lion for a split second before she muttered, “I’ll cooperate.”

‘That moment… she snapped at the idea like she’d found her prey. Even now she’s holding back, but she’s suppressing the urge to swing a sword so hard she’s actually gone quiet. She kind of feels like you took the old Sedona and me and divided us by two.’

Me, who threw myself into combat because I had nothing but the sword, and Sedona, who was terrible at swordsmanship but always fidgeted restlessly while waiting for training. If you averaged the two of us out, you’d get someone exactly like her.

If she had been born two years earlier, she might have stood with me, Astraea, and Sedona, swearing an oath to carry the future of the knight orders. When I thought of it that way, I realized how much the passage of time weighed on human encounters.

Sentimentalism aside, we arrived at the training grounds and each gripped a wooden sword.

Come to think of it, I’d taken quite a detour since coming here on a whim.

“So, what exactly am I supposed to do, Amalthea-san?”

“Eh? That’s, uh… what was it again, Senior?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? It’s your own training, how did you forget…?”

As Amal tilted her head, I pressed my fingers to my brow and groaned. She really was the girl who, when told “follow my lead,” would literally hang off my back. A lot had happened since then, so I could understand losing sight of the goal, but since this involved her future, I wished she’d remember. If she forgot things like this after joining the order, she’d get chewed out constantly.

“Second Form: Water Sweep and Sixth Form: Red Sparrow. You have the aptitude to master these two secret techniques. When I told you that you could get results on the exam with just these two, you said you couldn’t trust me, so I offered to give a practical demonstration so you’d believe me, right?”

“Oh, ohh! Right, right, that’s it!!”

“Secret techniques… Secret techniques? Amalthea-san…?”

Amal clapped her hands as she finally remembered. Behind her, Rosalind wore a look of utter shock that practically screamed, “No way, I don’t believe it.” It was subtly but immensely rude.

Well, I got the feeling. She probably never dreamed that this girl—who had been floundering around without mastering a single secret technique even though winter was approaching—had any talent for the sword. Seriously, how did this kid pass the entrance exam? Did a twin sister take it for her?

…No, things have been strict since that accident with Ottoman and the three brothers, so that’s likely impossible.

“I’m going to show you what happens when you fight using only the Second and Sixth Forms—basically, I’ll demonstrate the style Amal should aim for in my own way.”

Tap, tap. I lightly struck the ground with the wooden sword to check the feel. I felt a pang of nostalgia, realizing it had been a while since I’d done this. Back when I was a student, my opponent was almost always Astraea, and Sedona was the one I’d show off to.

This time, my opponent was a junior—I wanted to show her the true dignity of a knight.

“Rosalind-san, keep attacking me until I say stop. I’m only showing a benchmark, so I won’t be aggressive. Don’t hold back; come at me.”

“Are you saying you will face me with only two secret techniques?”

“That’s right.”

“—Aren’t you estimating me a bit too lightly?”

Instantly, the air in the training ground turned crisp and frozen.

A presence mixed with bloodlust and anger radiated from Rosalind.

It was a pressure that spoke of her resolve to give a fitting retribution to anyone who underestimated her. She clearly had that much pride and self-confidence.

“If you’ve spoken with the instructor, you surely know—I take pride in the fact that my swordsmanship has surpassed his. To think you can brush aside my blade with only two secrets of the Kingdom Offensive Draw-Sword Style… isn’t that a bit too much overconfidence?”

I’d heard from Instructor Rosso that she had already mastered eleven secret techniques. Taking that fact alone, she possessed more talent than Astraea, who had been the number two swordsman of my generation. There was only a two-year age gap. I certainly didn’t intend to let my guard down.

And yet, I gave her a bold, provocative grin.

“The one doing the underestimating is you. I’m going to teach you that while you are a swordsman, you are not yet a warrior—stop blathering and come at me.”

At those words, Rosalind realized that the fighting spirit I’d unleashed alongside my speech was the real deal. Erupting with a pressure that refused to be overwhelmed, she raised her wooden sword and shouted.

“…!! Officers’ Academy Knight Candidate, Rosalind Kreuz von Bauberg!! Betting my family name and my pride, I am coming for you!!”

“Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights, Knight Varna… I’m coming.”

I’ll show you, Amal.

How to use the two secret techniques you look down on.

And I’ll show you, Rosalind.

No matter how real your talent and skill are, at your current stage, you aren’t just below Astraea—you’re “absolutely no match for Sedona.”

To be honest, she felt insulted.

Even if he was the strongest knight in the kingdom, did humans truly never escape the corruption of conceit and negligence? Her skill was enough to defeat an Officers’ Academy instructor, whose abilities were far higher than those of an average knight. If anything, Rosalind had the confidence and pride that she could best any ordinary knight.

Given the performance he had displayed during that Imperial Match, she certainly didn’t feel like she could win. However, she couldn’t suppress a deep irritation at the current situation, where he estimated he could win while sealing away not only his Ultimate Secret Techniques but almost all of his other sword skills.

She wanted him to understand she wasn’t some cheap swordsman.

If he was still going to look down on her, she had no choice but to make him acknowledge her.

That was why Rosalind had made her declaration. It was born from a singular desire for the man she admired to truly see her, believing that her skill would not disappoint him.

The words that came back were startlingly cold and heavy.

“The one doing the underestimating is you.”

In an instant, the surrounding temperature seemed to vanish, and a burst of spirit made the leaves tremble.

A staggering pressure slammed into her entire body, taking her breath away.

It wasn’t that she had made him angry. Knight Varna still wore that bold, fearless grin. But it wasn’t a smile of lust or simple amusement; it was something else entirely.

“I’m going to teach you that while you are a swordsman, you are not yet a warrior—stop blathering and come at me.”

His ferocious, biological aggression was laid bare, intended to teach a brat who knew nothing of combat what a real fight looked like.

The pressure was enough to make a common guard’s knees give out, and Rosalind’s mind went momentarily blank—but then, she remembered she was gripping a wooden sword, and her thoughts snapped back into combat mode.

‘I’m a fool. To think I was already trying to measure Varna-sama’s strength when I haven’t even fought him yet!’

No matter the conditions, there wasn’t a shred of an opening or a hint of slack in the aura radiating from Varna. No impurities entered his thoughts other than the fight itself; he was the very image of the hero Rosalind had fallen in love with. While she had prattled on about not being underestimated, she was the one doing the underestimating.

If she showed even the slightest opening, this match would end in a heartbeat.

Whether it was training or he had a handicap, the knight known as Varna was that kind of existence.

“…!! ——Officers’ Academy Knight Candidate, Rosalind Kreuz von Bauberg!! Betting my family name and my pride, I am coming for you!!”

“Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights, Knight Varna… I’m coming.”

With a low declaration of his name—one that wasn’t loud but rang unpleasantly clear in her ears—the battle began.

“Haaaaah!!”

With a sharp shout, Rosalind stepped in instantly and unleashed the Fifth Form: Teal.

It was the simplest yet most profound strike, sometimes called the “Bamboo Splitter” in the East. For a sword, moving from top to bottom was the form that best balanced speed and weight by following gravity; furthermore, the more perpendicular the blade was to the point of impact, the less the shock and destructive power could escape.

It was the strike Rosalind used most often. Most opponents who took this hit right at the start were forced onto the defensive in an awkward position, and her winning pattern was to aim for their wobbling posture and break them down.

However, Varna didn’t panic. He stared the strike down from the front and simply laid his blade against the trajectory of her Fifth Form: Teal.

In the next moment, her strike was parried aside without resistance, as if it were flowing water, and she swung at thin air without even hitting his guard.

“What…!? No way, Water Sweep!?”

She cried out in shock. Water Sweep was a technique aimed at countering after a parry, but in practice, it usually involved forcefully using the flat of the blade to push the opponent’s sword away. Even if one parried cleanly, it usually only worked if they had predicted the opponent’s next move and timed it perfectly.

In practical training, to parry as beautifully as if splitting a waterfall—without any resistance—was impossible without acrobatic levels of skill.

Varna, who had performed it with total composure, looked down at Rosalind with cold eyes.

“What’s wrong? Was that bravado only for the beginning?”

“Ugh!! I’m not done yet!!”

Having one of her favorite techniques so easily brushed aside set Rosalind’s fighting spirit ablaze.

She unleashed the drawing strike of the First Form: Teal, but he instantly moved outside her range. She immediately followed up with the Sixth Form: Red Sparrow—or so it seemed, as she tried to transition into the Third Form: Flying Swallow, but this time he rapidly closed the distance. Their wooden swords collided with a sharp clack!, and her movement path was crushed.

“He’s… playing with me!? But… yaaaah!!”

She instantly knocked his wooden sword aside and moved into close quarters with the Ninth Form: Lingering Shadow.

It was a heavy, sharp slash that surpassed her earlier Teal, but it was parried again.

She knocked back his sword and attacked again and again, but Varna remained completely unfazed. He carefully read every single movement, dodging, parrying, and shutting her down. The initiative and momentum of this fight were entirely under Varna’s control. No matter how desperately Rosalind struggled, she could barely keep Varna from moving to the offensive, and an accelerating fatigue began to accumulate in her body.

Varna was true to his word—no, he wasn’t even using the secret techniques or hidden styles other than Water Sweep. He didn’t perform a single special movement, and he likely wasn’t even attacking with his full strength. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t reach him. And then—

“Sixth Form: Red Sparrow.”

“Ah…”

It was an impeccably accurate, one-hit-kill thrust, delivered with pinpoint precision into a gap of just a few centimeters where her guard had slackened—the tiniest of openings in both distance and physics. Despite her desperate resistance to avoid showing such a flaw, Varna’s wooden sword dove through that gap as if threading a needle.

It didn’t hit her body; he stopped just short. But if this had been a real fight, Rosalind’s body would have been skewered in a single blow. It was that perfect of a strike.

“That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“Yes… it is my complete defeat.”

She had lost—despite her big talk, she had been miserably defeated.

Rosalind reflexively looked down, biting her lip and gripping her wooden sword so hard her knuckles turned white.

She tried desperately to suppress the impulse welling up from within her.

But in front of the person she had become obsessed with for the first time in her life, she couldn’t hold it back—

“…Are you frustrated? I’m not just trying to cheer you up; your movements were good. But a match isn’t something you can win just with—”

“I knew it… I knew it…!! My place really is by your side!!”

“—Excuse me!?”

Rosalind took Varna’s outstretched hand in both of hers, tears of joy streaming down her face as her expression broke into a radiant, heartfelt smile.

She hadn’t wanted to show such an unseemly face, but she couldn’t stop the tears or the flush and loosening of her cheeks. She hadn’t been wrong after all; Knight Varna was an unfathomable individual who far exceeded her expectations.

“Varna-sama! You are beautiful…! I have decided once more… I will become your apprentice!!”

“Wait… I thought I was going to have to comfort her, but what is this? I can’t hide my confusion when her reactions keep blowing past every one of my expectations…!”

“P-Please, once more… oh, goodness, look at me breaking my promise and acting so unrefined! But, but I want to do it again! Please, lead me further into the depths of the sword!!”

Varna whispered something under his breath, but it didn’t reach the ears of the over-excited Rosalind at all.