Chapter 131

Irene Windler blinked in confusion.

“W-Why are they acting like that all of a sudden?”

The two men were suddenly preparing to spar, a scenario she found perplexing as she was merely enjoying dessert moments earlier.

Irene was clearly baffled, but Levi’s reaction was quite different.

“They’re knights. It’s not unusual for them to test their skills,” she remarked calmly, focusing intently on their movements, as if studying diligently to learn something new. Her demeanor was like that of a model student, and she was proving her own place as a knight-in-training, walking confidently down the path of the sword.

“I-Is that so?”

[Arin, if you don’t get it, just let it be. Knights don’t need a reason to duel.]

“…Okay.”

To a mage—or rather, a modern individual—this savage culture was difficult to accept, much less understand.

Well…

“…It’s not bad, I guess. Hmph.”

[Oh, so you’re into broad shoulders, huh? I prefer forearms myself.]

It wasn’t entirely unpleasant to watch, which was why she didn’t hate it.

In their own way, the girl and the ghost were thoroughly observing the duel for reasons entirely separate from the combat itself.

“…Lady Irene seems to be casting quite the burdensome gaze at the instructor.”

“She does that sometimes. I’m used to it by now.”

“Hmm. Are you alright with that? It’s technically harassment.”

“Harassment? There’s nothing worth looking at anyway.”

“……”

…Was there ever a more blatant lie?

Anyone who had reached a certain level of mastery as a warrior would know that physical training depended heavily on one’s preferences and chosen weapon.

For instance, those who wielded simple longswords often had lean builds, while those who handled spears or greatswords sometimes developed physiques reminiscent of wild boars or bears.

Thus, physical development was not about comparison but about sculpting a body perfectly suited to oneself. That was the true path of a warrior.

However…

Even I can’t help but be impressed…

Ihan’s physique was remarkable enough to inspire awe in anyone who saw it. It was something unique, something that overwhelmed any discussion of preferences, weapons, or compatibility.

How on earth could one train their body to that level?

It’s not just muscle—it’s like armor.

Crack!

The muscles rippled dynamically, each movement exuding immense power. It was impossible to gauge just how compressed his strength was, but it felt as though even an arrow would bounce harmlessly off of him.

If my uncle’s body is a masterpiece forged by the heavens, this must be a steel ingot tempered under unimaginable pressure.

It was hard to say who was superior—Maximus or Ihan—but both were undeniably dangerous.

And yet…

Has he grown even more?

Unbelievable as it seemed, Ihan’s physique felt even more refined than before. It was as if the already compressed steel ingot had been further enhanced in quality.

“What kind of training have you been doing?”

“I’ve fought a lot and eaten well. That’s about it.”

“…I’d call that a lie, but coming from you, I know it isn’t.”

“Jealous? Want me to train you?”

“No need. I have my own path.”

Roen had chosen a different route—a pure swordsman’s path. For him, consistent growth from his current state was what mattered, not veering off toward something else.

Everyone had a path best suited to them.

Shhhk.

To demonstrate that his path was the right one, Roen unsheathed his sword, and the atmosphere instantly changed.

Whoosh!

As the blade emerged, it released a sharp wind—not just a metaphorical breeze, but a literal cutting wind emanating from his sword. Nearby branches snapped cleanly in half, as if severed by an impossibly sharp edge.

This was the state of unity between man and blade, where the sword becomes an extension of the body. For Roen, it was as natural as breathing.

He had achieved what could only be described as the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

“How about it? Do you think my path is inferior to yours?”

“No. In fact, those who master a single discipline are the most formidable. It’s nothing to scoff at.”

“Thank you for the compliment. Then…”

Whoosh!

“Allow me to begin.”

Roen’s sword emitted a brilliant sword aura, an advanced manifestation of his energy technique that radiated menace.

Against an ordinary opponent, the aura alone would have overwhelmed them, leaving them defenseless and at the mercy of Roen’s blade. It was a force sharp enough to cut through anything in its path.

However—

Boom!

“You’re pretty intense right off the bat. Blocking it made my bones ache.”

“…I think the instructor who blocked my sword aura with his bare hand is far more intense.”

“I wanted to try it once. But I wouldn’t do it twice—I’d lose my hand.”

“……”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Roen was dumbfounded. He had expected his sword aura to dominate, yet Ihan had effortlessly blocked it.

This man… is unbelievable.

‘Is this only the second time?’

It had been a long while since Ihan had sparred with Roen. The first was during a lesson, where Roen, still a cadet, had dueled alongside his arrogant peers.

Though Ihan often sparred with other trainees, he hadn’t had many opportunities to face Roen since.

That’s because this guy kept dodging me.

To Ihan, it had been a shame. Roen was a worthwhile opponent, yet their paths rarely crossed.

Now, however, Roen had drawn his sword, and to Ihan, it felt like finally coaxing a shy cat into playing with him.

So—

Shhkk.

“…You’re wielding a hand axe instead of a practice sword?”

“I’m giving you the respect you deserve.”

“…That’s one form of respect I’d rather decline.”

Unlike other trainees, Ihan had chosen a live blade rather than a blunt practice weapon. It was likely the first time he had done so against a student.

But to Ihan, Roen was no mere cadet. He saw him as a full-fledged swordsman worthy of that respect.

He’s no cadet anymore.

Having grown stronger himself, Ihan now understood with clarity—Roen was not an “adolescent lion,” as some nobles called him.

He’s already a fully grown lion.

The tension was palpable as they stood still, locked in a silent contest of wills. Neither showed any openings, both carefully gauging the other.

Until—

Whoosh!

Both moved simultaneously, forcing openings rather than waiting for one to appear.

“…This is insane.”

Jack, who had been quietly observing from the sidelines, felt his body trembling despite merely being a spectator.

It wasn’t just a spar—it was an overwhelming clash of titans.

Could I ever reach that level?

Jack, who had abandoned the path of an assassin to pursue knighthood under Roen’s command, couldn’t help but doubt himself.

But before despair could take hold, a maid approached, handing him a drink and some fruit.

“Enjoy the show while you eat!”

“Ah, t-thank you.”

Jack froze. He hadn’t even noticed her presence until she spoke.

How could I not sense her at all? Even Lord Roen can’t escape my detection… Who is she?

Before he could dwell on it, the maid casually asked, “So, who’s winning?”

“Uh, w-well…” Jack stammered, completely disarmed by her innocent curiosity. Despite himself, he began explaining:

“Currently, Lord Roen is pressing the attack, executing precise combinations to deny the instructor any openings.”

“Wow. So the instructor’s losing?”

“…Not exactly. The instructor is effortlessly blocking every attack… with no sign of strain.”

Jack trailed off, his jaw slack. Ihan was countering Roen’s relentless combinations with an almost casual ease.

Roen was like a swarm of bees, but Ihan was an unyielding wall of iron.

He’s using Diamond Body… and something more.

As Jack processed the duel, the maid gave him a kind smile.

“You’ll become a great knight someday.”

Before Jack could respond, she disappeared as quickly as she had come, leaving him to murmur:

“…Even the people around the instructor aren’t normal.”

Jack realized that in this circle, “ordinary” simply didn’t exist.

And with that, he couldn’t help but smile.

Boom!

The ground shook, and dust rose from the aftermath of Roen’s sword aura, a concentrated strike of immense power.

Yet—

“You could at least pretend it hurt.”

“The impact lingers, but it’s manageable. What technique was that, anyway?”

“……”

Ihan was perfectly fine.

Roen began to wonder if he was fighting a human or a giant.

Even Frost Giants aren’t this sturdy.

And as he prepared another attack, Ihan chuckled.

“Let’s call it ‘Sword Aura Armor.’ Nice name, right?”

Roen could only stare in shock.

The axe in Ihan’s hand shimmered, radiating a brilliance and heat even greater than Roen’s own aura.

It’s not a draw after all, Roen thought. He might actually be… stronger.