In front of Milon's shock, Erich wore a faint smile.

'As expected, he's remarkable.'

In terms of sheer physical ability, Milon surpassed Erich.

After all, being Krupp's standard-bearer signified that, among the southern knights, he lacked nothing when it came to martial prowess.

No matter how much the grand duchess managed to prevent his downfall, the grand duke would not have kept anyone but the most skilled as his standard-bearer.

With that in mind, even Erich could not overwhelm fully-armored Milon without using aura. However, the use of aura changed the entire situation completely.

He could clearly feel that Milon's movements had slowed, thanks to the poison's toxin welling up to the tip of his chin.

'Guess it's time to get rid of the poison.'

A bead of thick sweat formed on Erich's forehead. Then, for a brief moment, his eyes flashed.

—Chiiiiik!

The sweat bead evaporated into steam and vanished. In that instant, Erich burned away the poison in his body with aura.

In truth, since the moment he realized that the grand duchess's scheme involved poison, Erich hadn't been worried at all. Rather, he was even relieved.

From the moment he became a swordmaster, he could draw out and burn away poison within his own body.

So, as unfair as it might be for the grand duchess, she had made a fundamental mistake in her strategy from the start.

Poison was useless against a swordsman who had reached the realm of a swordmaster, and the grand duchess didn't know that Erich was such a swordmaster.

"How in the world...?"

Milon's voice trembled with shock. To have opened the eyes of a swordmaster already meant he was among the greatest swordsmen in the Empire.

But, that was if he had become a swordmaster through 'traditional methods'.

'Well, my case is a bit different.'

Those who reach the ultimate truth in swordsmanship and survive battles between life and death finally attain the power of a swordmaster. But truly opening the eyes of a swordmaster was a kind of intuition.

Since Erich already understood this sense, he didn't need to go through desperate struggles or stake his life; he could open his eyes at will.

Of course, since it was a sort of shortcut, his swordsmanship and physical ability remained the same.

"That's why I told you not to trust your armor too much, Milon."

"This can't be... A swordmaster... This is... unbelievable."

Although Erich exhibited refined form, he was still lacking to stand in the highest ranks of swordmasters.

He simply hadn't had the time to struggle between life and death.

That left only one possibility.

"Is it possible... for talent to blossom this way? Even for a Krupp..."

While very rare, including the first emperor, there were some swordmasters who, from birth—or during childhood—naturally awakened their swordmaster's eyes.

Though Erich was not one of those cases—

'But that's the only reasonable explanation.'

Nonetheless, Milon, regaining his composure, steadied his breath. If Erich had awakened a swordmaster's eyes thanks to natural talent, all this could be explained.

How the problem child of a family could create and master a unique sword technique in an instant, or wield an unfamiliar blade like a swordmaster.

—Kwajijijik!

Milon slid his sword into the gap of his armor, and cut through the tightly bound leather straps. The heavy iron armor crashed to the ground from his body.

Against Erich, who could slice through steel like tofu, armor was meaningless. It was wiser to remove the armor and move faster.

'A good decision.'

Erich agreed with the judgment. Milon was certainly excellent as a swordsman. There was no need for him to fight with self-imposed disadvantages.

Quickly doffing his armor, Milon took up his shield and sword.

—Pat!

Only a crimson light remained where Erich had stood. Suddenly, Erich was in front of Milon, launching a swift opening attack.

—Shweeeee! Kkaaaang!

Milon parried Erich's assault. But unlike before, aura surged along Erich's blade. A flicker of blue afterimage followed where the sword's trail lingered.

—Kkaang! Kkaaaang!

Yet, this time, Milon couldn't pressure Erich as before. If he failed to deflect Erich's sword, the aura would easily sever his weapon as if slicing beancurd.

But, being a superb knight, Milon quickly adapted to Erich's sword.

'He's deflecting well. This won't be easy.'

With sword and shield, Milon deflected Erich's blade. Of course, during their exchanges, the aura scratched marks into Milon's sword and shield, but that was all.

That much, Milon's concentration had reached astonishing levels, and outwardly, he seemed to be trading blows evenly with Erich.

"Waaaahhh!"

"Kill him! Kill him!"

The crowd's cheers grew louder. They couldn't perceive that Erich was using aura, nor that Milon was handling it well.

To their eyes, Erich pushed, Milon fought back, and once Erich's sword pierced the armor, the momentum seemed to shift in Erich's favor.

Their duel grew more brutal. Their swords grew more precise, grazing close to flesh.

—Thrash!

Their blades grazed skin, and drops of blood sprayed across the arena.

But Erich felt nothing. He swung his sword, guided solely by instinct.

And—In this back-and-forth, Erich wore a faint smile.

'At this rate, I'll be losing.'

Even if he was a swordmaster before returning, his current body had barely been trained. There was a huge difference compared to Milon, who'd developed knightly endurance over so many years.

'If I wanted only to kill, I could have finished it with the first exchange...'

But that wasn't what he wanted.

Erich hoped to spare this steadfast knight, to complete Iceborn without killing him.

Thus, Erich's eyes shone.

—Uuuuung.

As crimson light burned strongly in Erich's eyes, Milon switched to safer paths to deflect Erich's assaults. It meant slowing his counters, but more than that, Milon was wary of Erich's aura.

Aura. The swordmaster's power, a supernatural strength that extends one's attack range. Milon immediately sensed its danger from the first clash.

But Erich didn't heighten the "output" of his eyes just to use aura. He sought another power they held.

—Suuuuk.

The colors in Erich's vision began to blur and bleed together.

Like a spreading ink painting, the blur began at Milon's outline, expanding outward.

What mattered in this vision was not Milon's form, but—

Where to strike.

—Kang!

Where to block.

—Kkaang!

Before long, Milon's movement slowed within Erich's blurred vision.

As if time had stopped, a scene suspended in a painting. In that world, only two things shone: Erich's sword and Milon's sword.

Milon's movements left afterimages. His gaze, his trembling, his blade's arc all changed into a stream of predictions.

The moment Milon's movement truly froze—an electric pain shot through, and a flood of information poured into Erich's eyes.

Swordmasters see the world with different eyes. The true ability of a swordmaster was creating this awakening deliberately.

Erich's eyes instantly lost their light and returned to normal. Time, which had stopped, suddenly raced forward.

—Thrash!

In a flash, Erich and Milon passed each other, red blood splattering across the arena.

All the spectators held their breath, craning forward to see whose blood it was. That wave spread among the thousands.

—Clang.

The sword in Milon's hand dropped limply. He barely managed to stand.

"... This..."

Milon replayed the moment in his mind. His way of deflecting a blow was correct.

But the magical trajectory of Erich's sword surpassed Milon's imagination. What he thought he had deflected twisted and plunged deep into his abdomen.

—Step. Step.

Erich walked toward Milon. Milon tightly shut his eyes. The moment of defeat. Yet it had been a clean and undeniable loss.

There was nothing he could say as a swordsman.

—Tang!

Erich kicked Milon's fallen sword far away. An excellent choice to avoid a counterattack—though Milon had lost the strength for one the moment his abdomen was pierced.

"Surrender, Milon. Your peritoneum's been pierced, you won't be able to muster any strength. There's nothing you can do now."

A cold mass of metal pressed against Milon's neck. But Milon answered in a low voice.

"I've failed anyway, the grand duchess won't let me live. But if I die like this, at least she'll grant me the courtesy of a warrior. Then House Roland may endure."

"... Is that what you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"There aren't many knights who reach your level. Don't you regret it?"

"You say that, my lord? ... If I said I didn't regret it, that would be a lie. But it's a choice I can't avoid. My father joined a duel knowing he'd die. I suppose now I can understand. Perhaps, he too, did it for the family."

"So you'll follow your father's example?"

"Yes. Someday—perhaps someday—the truth might come to light. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that this blood... gets passed on."

"... If you surrender now, I'll let your family live."

"... What are you saying?"

"Must I repeat myself?"

Milon opened his eyes and glared at Erich. Meeting Erich's gaze from above, Milon fell silent for a moment, deep in thought.

"Kill him!"

"Finish him off!"

The spectators' madness spread around them. They wanted blood. Like so many who had died in this arena before, they demanded it from Milon too.

But in that moment—

Milon's eyes turned toward the grand duchess, seated in the highest seat. He saw her face, flushed red with anger.

If it all ended here, would House Roland truly endure—and himself as well?

Could he really trust the word of this outcast?

But then, after a moment's thought, Milon slowly raised both hands.

"I surrender."

The cheers grew quiet. Because the carnage they wanted had not come. Even so, when Erich's victory was declared, the crowd erupted once more.

"Waaaahhhh!"

"Erich! Erich!"

For the audience, Erich and Milon's duel was a spectacle unseen in this or any other match thus far.

Usually, in the Iceborn, one side overwhelmingly outclassed the other, but rarely was there a match so full of tension.

Erich turned to the grand seats and bowed his head.

The grand duchess must now have realized her scheme had failed. What would she do next?

Erich quietly curled his lips. The grand duchess's choices were running out.

Her last resort now would be to use any means necessary to kill Erich.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】

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