Only four of the Teuton knights remained standing unscathed. Those with serious injuries had long since been carried away, while the lightly wounded stayed at the training grounds after basic first aid to watch the contest approach its end.

Even counting those already defeated, fewer than half remained. The forty-seven Teuton knights looked utterly wretched, as though they had suffered an insult. They had only four uninjured fighters left, while we still had more than thirty.

All one hundred of the kingdom's knights remained at the training grounds, just as they had at the start. Even a knight whose forearm had nearly been severed stayed to watch after receiving treatment from the royal physician. The lightly wounded went without saying.

The contrast between our knights and Teuton's could not have been starker. This was the difference between knights who had come through countless wars and men who had honed their skills merely by crossing swords on a training ground.

The duke of Teuton would have realized it by now, too. They were nothing more than flowers blooming in a carefully tended garden. However sharp a rose's thorns, they could never compare to a savage wolf's fangs.

I grinned. This was delightful. The contest was not over yet, and the most delicious dish still awaited me. The thought filled me with unbearable delight.

"Stop!"

A commotion broke out while I was savoring the duke's expression.

"I have repeatedly made it clear that these bouts are meant to foster harmony between our nations! I cannot understand why Leonberk's knights are fighting with such killing intent, as though facing their mortal enemies!"

Watching the princess rant, her composure lost, I suddenly glanced toward the fighting ground. There stood a woman drenched in blood: Adelia, light streaming from her eyes in two different colors. Opposite her stood a Teuton Master, likewise drenched in blood. Both were bloodied, but one wore another's blood, and the other his own.

Horrified, I shouted, "When did she get out there?!"

I was about to drag Adelia away by force when Duncan Seymour Tudor stepped forward.

"How could knights cross swords without someone being injured? It is only natural. As commander of the Rose Thorn Knights and a duke of Teuton, I, Duncan Seymour Tudor, have no intention of objecting."

"Duke!"

The princess frowned and tried to speak, but the duke spoke with an expression graver than ever.

"Unless you wish Teuton's knights to be known as cowards afraid of wounds, say no more."

Neither his expression nor his tone left the slightest room for compromise. The princess fell silent, her face stiffening. Having made her stand down, the duke glanced at Adelia, then turned to me.

"The bouts will continue."

Unmistakable anger and killing intent filled his eyes.

"I, Duncan Seymour Tudor, Duke of Seymour and commander of the Rose Thorn Knights, challenge the kingdom's lady knight to a bout."

With that, the duke drew his sword and stepped onto the fighting ground. Adelia reacted to the destructive energy gathering on his blade.

"Adelia!"

I shouted as she was about to fly into a frenzy. But I was too late.

SWISH!

Duncan Seymour Tudor's sword slashed through Adelia. Cut diagonally from her shoulder to the opposite side of her waist, she tumbled across the ground, still in her running posture.

The duke raised his sword again. A blue flash streaked toward Adelia's back as she planted both hands on the ground and tried to rise.

I kicked off the ground, planted myself in front of her, and swept my sword.

BOOM!

The sword light Duncan Seymour Tudor had unleashed scattered.

"What is the meaning of this? The bout is not over, yet an outsider interferes?"

Instead of answering, I gathered Adelia into my arms.

"Adelia."

The radiance faded from her eyes, and their original color returned. Her lips moved, but what spilled between her teeth was not words, but a mouthful of blood.

"It's all right. Don't say anything."

Her mouth opened a few more times at my words before she closed her eyes. Her body went limp in my arms.

"Where is the physician?!"

"Here, Your Highness!"

"Save her. I will not forgive you if you fail."

The royal physician hurried over and took Adelia from me. Once off the fighting ground, he immediately began pouring healing magic into her. I watched in silence, then turned toward Duncan Seymour Tudor.

"I am appalled and dismayed. An outsider intruding upon a sacred bout? What could be more dishonorable?"

A petty sense of superiority lurked in his eyes. His lips curled high, mocking me.

"Very well. I admit I was wrong."

Rather than quibble about the sword he had brought down toward Adelia's back, I readily apologized. After all, Adelia had intended to keep fighting, and the duke was not at fault for attacking an opponent who had not relinquished her sword.

"Wrong, you say. How easily you say it."

I spoke quietly to the sneering duke.

"Let me make a proposal to set right my mistake."

His eyes gleamed at my words.

"Regardless of the number of victories so far, a single bout will decide this contest."

"You mean...?"

"If you defeat me, this contest will end in Teuton's victory. The sword will be Teuton's as well."

Duncan Seymour Tudor bared his teeth in a smile.

"I shall accept that apology."

With that arrogant declaration, he raised his sword and pointed it at me.

And I...

"I cleave the dragon's scales, which no treasured blade can cut, and drink its burning blood."

I swept my sword from left to right.

GRRRRR!

Twilight cried out.

SLICE!

The sword light the duke had conjured was cut apart without resistance. The arrogant knight's eyes flew wide, filling with shock. Twilight sped unchecked toward his neck.

At the last instant, I wrenched my blade aside.

BOOM!

The dragon-slaying blade missed its target and shattered the training ground instead. Powdered stone and dust flew into the air.

"You've died once."

I stepped back with a cold smile.

"Again."

The duke, who had been staring blankly at my sword, finally came to his senses and shouted.

"...!"

One of the Teuton knights handed him a finely honed longsword. He gripped it with both hands and took his stance, his eyes brimming with wariness.

SWISH!

I struck at him again. My sword touched his chest. He stared at me, dumbfounded.

"You've died twice."

The bout resumed. My sword touched his body again and again. Chest, stomach, groin. Head, neck. Every one a fatal point.

"Eleven deaths now."

The duke died countless times to my sword, though there was not a single wound on his flesh.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Duncan Seymour Tudor snarled at me. I smiled coldly at his face, ravaged by shame and rage.

I told him that since my knight had gravely wounded one of Teuton's precious knights, I could hardly do the same; that was why I was doing this. At that preposterous nonsense, the duke bit his lip hard.

He adjusted his stance and roused his aura. The force and presence unique to a knight of his attainment spread in all directions. I unleashed the stature I had attained and crushed his aura beneath it. It scattered instantly.

"Again."

"Aaaaargh!"

The duke charged at me, howling like a beast. And once again, he met a death without wounds.

"Again!"

He charged once more. Without fail, I dealt him death.

"Again!"

The duke died, and died, and died again.

Shame. Rage. The emotions in his eyes gradually faded. Then something entirely different appeared.

Fear.

Watching those wavering eyes, I kept swinging my sword.

"You've died sixty-seven times."

The fear filling his eyes began to dim. Before long, that, too, disappeared. At last...

"Eighty-five!"

When I raised my sword to grant him his eighty-sixth death, the duke no longer reacted to my blade at all. He merely stared at me with empty eyes. Looking into those lifeless, dead eyes, I lowered my sword.

"Princess."

Utterly dazed, she startled and turned toward me. The Finest Knight in the West, Teuton's strongest knight. She seemed unable to recover from the crushing defeat of that vaunted knight her people took such pride in.

"Tsk."

I addressed her coldly as she continued to stare blankly.

"Do you wish me to continue? If so, I shall."

I glanced at the Teuton knight who had yet to fight as I spoke. He flinched. Only then did the princess stammer out a reply.

"W-we lost. We lost..."

She repeatedly declared defeat, forgetting the impartiality required of an official witness. I turned away.

"I concede Teuton's defeat!"

With her trembling voice behind me, I returned to my place.

The kingdom's knights were watching me with renewed reverence. Their faces, so full of pride, filled a corner of my heart with satisfaction. But I did not let it show. Instead, I lifted my chin at them.

With immense arrogance.

"Your Highness..."

Arwen, the wounds on her arm and shoulder bandaged, bowed her head to me in boundless respect.

"What a monster."

Eli, who had returned to the training grounds after having his injuries hastily treated, muttered to himself with a look of helpless disbelief.

"Brother..."

Maximilian gazed at me, his face flushed. He kept calling, "Brother, Brother," yet whenever our eyes met, he had nothing to say. He simply stared and stared.

Quern and the kingdom's knights stared at me, then burst into cheers.

"We salute another victory won by His Highness the Crown Prince!"

"Long live His Highness the Crown Prince!"

"Long live the Royal House of Leonberk! Long live the Leonberk Kingdom!"

Listening quietly to their cheers, I looked toward Adelia. The royal physician gave me a firm nod. She was out of danger. With proper rest, she would suffer no lasting complications.

"There will be a scar."

Regret filled the physician's face. Even so, this was a fortunate outcome. Only after I saw Adelia breathing softly and peacefully did my heart settle.

I let out a sigh of relief and looked across the training grounds at the Teuton knights. Gone were the Teutons who had swaggered about their superiority only the day before. There were only defeated men, stunned by the disastrous outcome.

Then, in one crisp motion, the knights drew their swords and brought their feet together. Those with wounded right arms held their swords in their left hands. Those with both arms injured lifted their blades with groans of pain. Those with wounded legs stood crookedly, forcing themselves to remain upright.

As though by prior agreement, the kingdom's knights snapped their swords up at an angle. The Royal Knights joined them. Then they cried out in one voice.

"Our boundless respect to the Finest Knight in the North!"