Who did I think would win?
If I was being completely honest with myself, I had absolutely no clue.
Not even a vague leaning. Not even a half-ford guess. My mind was blank, like soone had wiped the board clean and left standing there with the chalk.
"If I had to guess," Morishita Nazuna said, crossing her arms lightly as she kept her eyes on the arena below, "it would have to be the Vice Commander, right?"
She didn’t sound arrogant about it. Just practical. Like she was pointing out the obvious answer to a math problem everyone else already solved.
"Yeah," Morofuji Yu followed up almost imdiately. "I an, we’ve actually seen the Vice Commander in action before. She was second-in-command of the strongest military unit in the entire kingdom. That’s not just so fancy title you get for looking cool in a uniform. If anyone’s winning this, it should be her."
There was logic there. Solid logic.
And honestly? I couldn’t argue with it.
Being a Vice Commander wasn’t sothing handed out as a participation trophy. It ant strength. Authority. The kind of experience that ca from surviving real battlefields, not just tournant stages with polished floors and cheering crowds.
So yeah. If soone told to put money on it, the safe bet would’ve been her.
And yet...
For so reason I couldn’t explain—even to myself—I felt my thoughts drifting toward the other side.
Toward him.
I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like I had concrete proof he would win. It wasn’t even that I believed he was stronger.
It just felt... natural to root for him.
Like sothing deep in my chest had already decided, and my brain was just lagging behind trying to catch up.
"I think I’m going for him," Ayaka said suddenly.
Morishita-san turned to her with a small, teasing smile. "Oh? Sakai-san, are you rooting for him because you think he’s attractive?"
"I-It’s not like that," Ayaka said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. Her cheeks didn’t turn red, but her tone betrayed her just enough.
Sure. Totally not that.
She straightened a little and continued, trying to sound composed. "It’s just... don’t you think it’s kind of intriguing? What he might actually be capable of, I an. If the Princess herself is in love with him, then doesn’t that suggest there’s sothing there?"
She paused for a second, then added more quietly, "And he was the one who arranged support for us after the bandit raid on the village. He made sure we could get checked ntally. That wasn’t sothing he had to do. I think it’s only natural that I’d be curious about him."
Curious.
That was a safe word for it.
Morofuji-san studied her face for a mont before nodding slowly. "You’re not wrong. If he’s managed to co this far, especially against opponents like these, then he definitely has sothing up his sleeve. And honestly... I feel like there’s sothing really special about him too."
She hesitated.
"In fact, I feel like..." Her eyes flicked toward for just a split second.
Then she stopped herself.
"You know what? Never mind."
That "never mind" was louder than anything she could’ve actually said.
It felt like she had caught herself just in ti. Like the thought that almost slipped out would’ve been a little too personal. Maybe even rude.
But I had a pretty good guess what she was about to say.
In fact, I feel like he’s soone I know.
It hung there in the air, unspoken but understood.
Ayaka noticed it too. So did Morishita-san.
But none of them said it out loud.
And I didn’t give them anything to work with either.
I just smiled.
As if I had no idea what they were thinking.
And while we stood there wrapped up in that quiet tension...
The fight had begun.
***
Leon’s POV
The mont it started, the world seed to narrow.
The crowd noise dulled into a distant hum. The air itself felt tighter and charged.
For a brief second, we just looked at each other.
There was no words exchanged and no unnecessary movents.
Just two fighters asuring distance, timing, and intent.
Then we moved.
It wasn’t even a conscious decision. One blink—and we were already in motion.
We dashed forward at the exact sa ti, like reflections in a mirror. The ground beneath our feet cracked faintly under the force of our push-off, and in less than a heartbeat, the gap between us vanished.
To anyone watching, we probably disappeared.
To , everything was sharp.
Controlled.
And then—
Our blades t.
The impact wasn’t just tal against tal.
It was an explosion.
A shockwave burst outward from the point where our swords collided, expanding in a violent ripple that slamd against the barrier surrounding the platform. The barrier flickered, the air distorting like heatwaves rising from asphalt.
The pressure was imnse.
For a split second, I genuinely thought the barrier might give way.
The crowd gasped.
We didn’t.
The mont our swords rebounded, we attacked again. And again.
Steel rang out in rapid succession, the sound overlapping until it beca sothing closer to thunder than clashing weapons. Sparks scattered with every contact, tiny flashes of light against the arena floor.
Our movents blurred.
It wasn’t flashy technique. Not yet.
Just pure skill.
Refined, practiced, and sharpened to the limit.
We weren’t using abilities.
There was no point.
If I tried to activate mine now, she would cancel it instantly. Her power was built for that. She was a direct counter.
So we tested each other the old-fashioned way.
Speed. Timing. And precision.
Every strike was calculated. Every parry deliberate. We shifted angles, adjusted stances, and searched for the smallest openings. Even a fraction of hesitation would be punished.
Minutes felt like seconds.
Seconds felt like stretched threads about to snap.
Finally, we disengaged.
Not because we were tired.
But because continuing like that without change would lead nowhere.
We stepped back, creating space.
Our eyes locked again.
I glanced down at my sword.
A thin crack ran along the blade.
Another followed.
And then I noticed just how bad it had gotten.
It was barely holding together.
The sa cheap sword I’d used since the start of the tournant. The one most people probably overlooked. It had survived round after round sohow. Even the fight against Shredica.
There was sothing almost stubborn about it.
But sentintality wasn’t going to win this fight.
So I let it go.
I tossed it aside without ceremony. It hit the ground with a dull clatter and skidded away.
She watched it for a brief mont.
Then her gaze returned to .
I reached out.
And grasped at empty air.
And Ayuru answered.
The weight settled into my hand like it had always belonged there. It was familiar and balanced.
Her eyes widened—just slightly.
Then she smiled.
Not mocking.
Not dismissive.
Interested.
So that did it.
She threw her own sword aside just as casually.
Then she reached toward the ground.
At first, it looked ridiculous.
Like she was grabbing nothing.
But the air around her hand shifted, bending faintly. Sothing ford.
A hilt materialized in her grip.
She pulled upward.
And a blade followed.
Another Cursed Sword.
I couldn’t hide the flicker of surprise in my eyes.
So it wasn’t just Shredica.
Cursed Swords weren’t common weapons you could just pick up at a market stall. They were rare. So rare that you could count their known numbers on two hands.
And yet here we were.
Two of them in the sa arena.
For a second, the atmosphere changed.
Heavier.
Darker.
Like the space between us had gained weight.
But in the end?
It didn’t matter.
Rare or not.
Legendary or not.
It was still going to co down to this.
We both smirked.
Not out of arrogance.
But because now it was real.
Now it was interesting.
And without another word—
We unleashed our strength once more.
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