episode_0142

Bellihur, who had suffered a defeat as it was written, approached me with a grimaced face, requesting a rematch.

While acknowledging his defeat, he insisted that he hadn’t shown everything yet and proposed we fight once more.

“Do you really need to? It doesn’t seem necessary,” I firmly declined, giving him a look that conveyed a clean surrender without clinging on persistently.

Why indulge in a rematch forced upon us? It would be challenging to win as easily as before.

There were two reasons I could overpower Bellihur: the unique circumstances of the duel and the information gap.

Enhanced strength from battling Valquoria, reinforced by Kangwan, and the resilience of my magically imbued Luck Iron armor.

Bellihur’s defeat stemmed from his lack of awareness. He underestimated the strength of my armor, assuming his greatsword could easily crush any ordinary armor.

If not for the duel, he would have targeted the unprotected areas instead of the breastplate. Although those areas were shielded by defensive magic, my armor, being custom-made, required approximately six hours between each activation of the defense spell.

It’s unusable now. Moreover, lacking an invincible shield-like protection, a solid strike from his greatsword would shatter the magic itself.

In essence, engaging in a rematch would make it difficult for Bellihur to exploit the equipment advantage against me.

Confident that his greatsword couldn’t pierce the Luck Iron plate, he would persistently target the exposed areas if we fought again.

Observing his fleeting glances towards my longsword, perhaps he prioritized destroying my sword first?

Though not as straightforward as he might think, if by chance my sword were to break, it would result in my defeat.

Losing one’s sword equated to being forcibly demoted to a martial artist. That meant disqualification as a human, a loss of humanity.

Of course, if one delved deeply into martial arts and reached a level akin to theirs, they would be respected rather than deemed unworthy.

But that’s a story for true martial artists.

Having never trained in martial arts like them, I had no relevance to their skills.

Therefore,

“Reclaiming victory over an opponent you’ve already beaten doesn’t seem meaningful. If you seek a rematch, return stronger next time.”

“Grrr…!”

Bellihur groaned like a constipated patient, his face turning red and blue. Watching him, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

Why did he start off so rudely, using informal language from the first meeting? If not for that, I would have reciprocated with courtesy. It’s all self-inflicted.

“Step back, Bellihur. While I don’t doubt your prowess, this place isn’t meant for determining our superiority through combat.”

A disappointed Argantir sighed lightly, gesturing for Bellihur to retreat.

“I understand everything there is to know. Please don’t waste any more of my time.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize for my behavior.”

With an embarrassed expression, Bellihur politely apologized and withdrew.

…Apologize to me too. You displayed your disgraceful behavior towards me.

Glancing at him disdainfully, I sheathed my sword, withdrew my tongue, and stepped back. In a society based on hierarchy, such actions were insignificant upon reflection.

And so, my test of swords came to a swift end.

◆◆

“I am Curtis, a member of the Herbor Kingdom Knights. Nice to meet you, Sir Sigfried. I look forward to our match.”

Curtis, a knight, stood opposite Prifde.

Appearing to be in his mid to late twenties, he exuded a noble demeanor in both attitude and speech.

“…I am Sigfried.”

“Oh, my apologies, Sir Sigfried. Please forgive my impertinence.”

Freide demanded to be addressed by her nickname, pulling out a plain black iron greatsword that was displayed in the armory, not Excalibur.

It was Argantir’s request.

While my armor could barely withstand the limit, using the Holy Sword in a swordsmanship duel seemed a bit excessive.

“If the underground facility collapses, won’t we end up as good friends?” they joked.

Honestly, it was needless worry. Freide still needed a lot of time and experience to reach that level.

Argantir, being royalty from another country rather than Nibelung’s lineage, seemed to somewhat overestimate Nibelung’s power based solely on recorded accounts.

Stories like a past hero splitting a fortress wall in half with Nibelung were just that—stories.

And so began the sparring between Freide and Curtis.

“Hyaah!”

“Jumping…? Unusual—no, unique swordsmanship…!”

Freide spun and leaped like a winged top, wielding the black iron greatsword like a storm.

For Curtis, who had trained in traditional martial arts as a kingdom knight, this unconventional style was unfamiliar.

Despite lacking wings, Freide leaped unpredictably, making it confusing for Curtis to find openings to counter.

Regardless of where he aimed, there wasn’t much difference.

Perhaps due to the absence of the Holy Sword’s buff, Freide’s attacks were slightly slower and weaker than before, but still carried a fierce momentum.

The clash of metal echoed like a whirlwind.

Curtis skillfully utilized a weapon combining an axe, spear, and hook, thrusting, slashing, and striking in various intense ways.

Freide used the greatsword’s weight to change stances in mid-air, dodging and parrying each attack.

A battle that seemed close. The outcome was determined—

“It disappeared…?!”

“Hyaap!”

Diving low, Freide’s downward strike with the greatsword brushed against Curtis’ greave, resounding with a clang. Curtis, spinning comically, crashed headfirst into the armory floor.

Focused on countering the relentless leap attacks, Curtis missed Freide’s sudden downward strike completely.

“I’ve learned something. I now realize how exaggerated the rumors circulating are.”

As Curtis got up, shaking his head slightly, he admitted defeat with a composed tone.

“That was… fun.”

Impressed by their calm yet humble attitude, Freide concluded the spar with her own courtesy.

And so, all tests were completed.

Freide and I proved our skills by defeating kingdom knights, placing us at an intermediate level among them. In adventurer terms, we would be considered top-tier gold rankers.

Those who oversee small units within the kingdom’s knighthood seem to possess skills similar to ours.

In other words, those like us who lost to Belliher or Curtis were merely ordinary knights, barely beyond trainees within the kingdom’s knighthood.

Well, thinking about it, it made sense.

Argantir, currently sneaking out of the palace, couldn’t possibly mobilize top-tier individuals fitting the prince’s escort. It was more practical to deploy inconspicuous ordinary knights in such a situation.

If Argantir wanted to move discreetly, it was best to gather unremarkable knights as escorts, rather than drawing attention with top-tier individuals.

◆◆

After settling all matters, Aragantir issued a farewell order, instructing me not to cause any more trouble, and banished me with a wave of his hand.

Presenting a small identification badge to prove my status as a senior member of the organization and handing over a brief personal profile of Esther, a lady-in-waiting, along with a single introductory pamphlet.

He mentioned that he would inform me later about the magical item for changing hair color. Freida was delighted, anticipating that her hair would match mine exactly.

Returning to the inn in Ahillant, I carefully examined the detailed profile that he had given me.

Verloren Esther.

That was the name of the person who would be my mother on paper.

38 years old and single.

Divorced from her husband, with her only child missing.

A former candidate for vice-captain of the Kingdom’s Knights, she had reached the pinnacle of elite knights, surpassing the level of senior knights.

“Almost at the level of a senior knight… It’s more impressive than I thought.”

Whether she was truly a senior knight or had been halted by the barrier of seniority, I couldn’t tell, but she was certainly a formidable individual beyond imagination.

In the current kingdom, there was no one who had reached a level higher than seniority.

Even those known as the Kingdom’s Best Swords had only reached the highest level of seniority and had not progressed to the next level.

The reason nations supported heroes was precisely to produce individuals stronger than senior knights.

The same applied to other professions.

Most high-level mages were either the heads of magic towers or the leaders of magic districts, while high priests were titles reserved for clergy above archbishops.

In short, being on the verge of senior knighthood meant being among the top 20 strongest individuals in the kingdom.