“Is there any need to come at me one at a time?”

“You should all come at once. That might even things out a little.”

Najin’s words were an unmistakable provocation.

The knight who had stepped forward, Phileon, was the one who reacted. He was the knight Najin had previously kicked into a wall. Phileon had not forgotten the humiliation he had been forced to endure before his master.

That blow had only landed because he had let his guard down. If they fought again, the outcome would be different. With a sword in hand, facing him head-on in a proper setting, he would not go down so helplessly... He sincerely believed that.

Denying defeat instead of enduring it. Protecting his pride through denial.

That was the path Phileon had chosen. And, naturally, it was the worst possible answer. Of course, he had been given several clues that could have helped him assess the situation correctly.

First, the unnatural speed at which Najin wielded mana.

Second, his extraordinary physical abilities.

Third, the rumors that Najin had survived a clash with Arbenia’s knight commander.

But Phileon denied what he had seen, dismissed the rumors as nonsense, and ignored information he could have examined. It was a blunder born of a knight’s pride and stubbornness.

“Such utter insolence.”

Phileon approached Najin with a scowl. From the outset, he gripped his sword, summoned his sword aura, and circulated mana through his body. Leaving his fellow knights glaring at Najin’s impudent taunt behind him, he took the lead.

“You must think Arbenia’s knights are complete pushovers—”

“You talk too much.”

Cutting Phileon off, Najin tossed his sword into the air. Abandoning his weapon before an opponent wielding sword aura was bizarre. Before Phileon could speculate about what it meant, Najin took a step forward.

The longsword spinning in the air. Najin stepping forward. Phileon pointing his sword at him.

Rather than try to understand Najin’s strange behavior, Phileon focused on attacking him as he approached. He swung his sword at Najin. Since this was a duel, he would not kill him, but no one could fault him for drawing blood.

WHOOSH!

Phileon swung his sword using imperial swordsmanship. The longsword traced a clean arc toward Najin’s shoulder. It was more than enough to cut through a defenseless opponent approaching without even a sword in hand...

Or so Phileon thought.

Denial, not endurance. Turning away, not acceptance. And so he had chosen the wrong answer. The worst possible answer. Naturally, the price of choosing wrongly in a duel was not light.

THUNK.

The sword stopped in the middle of its clean arc.

Najin had casually extended his left hand and caught both of Phileon’s hands around the longsword’s hilt. Eyes wide, Phileon tried to move his arms, but they would not budge.

‘How is he this strong...!’

His trapped hands screamed in pain.

Phileon’s brow furrowed. The moment he thought of raising a foot to kick Najin away and create some distance, Najin was already moving.

CRUNCH.

Najin kicked Phileon’s knee.

With a crunch, his knee buckled inward. Sparks flashed before his eyes, and, unable to remain standing, he sank to his knees. His lowered position naturally left him looking up at Najin.

Hands pinned. Knees forced to the ground.

Now he was the defenseless one, not Najin. The instant Phileon realized it, sparks flashed across his vision again. This time, the pain came from his face rather than his knee.

“Ghuk...?”

A bewildered groan.

Blood spattered from his nose. Phileon grimaced at the sharp pain across its bridge. Only then did he understand what was happening.

Najin was holding both his hands down with his left hand and smashing his right fist into his face.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

Phileon’s vision flickered again and again. His head kept snapping backward, then returning forward. Every time Najin swung his fist, blood sprayed from Phileon’s face.

The watching knights’ eyes widened, and Phileon’s master, Agesio, caught his breath.

What Najin was doing was not a duel. Still less was it a sword fight. It was a one-sided beating. At some point, Najin released Phileon’s hands, but Phileon could no longer even think of swinging his sword.

His eyes had already gone dull and unfocused.

Only then did Najin stop punching. He grabbed Phileon by the hair and met his eyes. The longsword he had tossed into the air finished spinning and fell, driving into the ground with a thunk.

“Would you like to continue?”

This was a duel.

Until one side admitted defeat, it was not over. Meeting Najin’s icy eyes, Phileon finally understood.

There had been no special meaning behind Najin tossing his sword upward as the duel began. He had simply been saying:

I don’t even need a sword against you.

That realization humiliated Phileon. But greater than his humiliation was his fear. Najin’s eyes as he looked down at him sent a chill through him. Phileon bowed his head in lieu of an answer.

Najin let Agesio’s attendants drag Phileon away, silently watching him and the escort knights. His gaze spoke for him. Who’s next? If you still want to come one at a time, I won’t stop you.

... The knights weighed their options.

Personal pride, or retaliation to restore Arbenia’s reputation. Which mattered more? Those who had pledged their loyalty to Arbenia chose the latter. The four remaining knights stepped forward together. Only then did Najin pull his sword from the ground.

Pure-white sword aura bloomed over the blade.

2.

Some say the difference between a warrior who has grasped a fragment of a mental image and one who has not is stark. This is not limited to sword aura. Understanding a mental image is a process of solidifying the soul.

One’s own landscape. One’s own color. One’s own mana.

Humanity had built up many things over the long ages. In this era, every martial art was ultimately an imitation of something else, and entirely new things had become rare. Yet mental images remained ever new, unique, and original.

They belonged solely to the individual, imitating nothing.

Only those with confidence in themselves could possess one. That unshakable faith affected the body and the very flow of mana. It meant that the soul took on color, and mana acquired a distinctive form and properties.

To reiterate, the difference between a warrior who has touched even a fragment of a mental image and one who has not is stark. Najin had already been without equal among Sword Experts. If, on top of that, he had grasped a fragment of a mental image...

“Guh, ghuk...”

“Urgh, bleeegh!”

Terrain, special conditions, striking first, tricks.

Even in a head-on duel with all those factors excluded, Najin could overwhelm multiple Experts. The proof lay before him.

Knights sprawled on the ground, clutching their stomachs. Bent fingers and shattered knees.

These injuries could heal with a priest’s help, but they were not injuries that allowed them to keep fighting right now. Unlike the fallen knights, Najin had only a few minor scratches on his body.

‘... How is this possible?’

Agesio Arbenia’s eyes wavered as he watched. Even after seeing it, he could not believe it. He had never heard of an Expert who could defeat four knights simultaneously.

Was this not already Sword Seeker level?

Echoing in Agesio’s ears were the false rumors that had been circulating lately. Rumors that the adventurer before him had held his own against the ducal House Arbenia’s knight commander. Agesio had dismissed them as exaggerated nonsense.

Naturally so.

If the formidable Sir Griffin had been serious, there could have been no fight at all. Agesio had assumed Griffin arrived late, or that Trevache’s knights had joined the fray from the outset.

‘But...’

Five fallen knights.

One of them had even been subdued bare-handed. Looking at their wretched condition... he could no longer dismiss the story as mere rumor.

Agesio looked at the adventurer before him. Najin was looking back.

Those eyes sent a chill through Agesio. He flinched and stepped backward. Najin took a step toward him, and goosebumps rose all over Agesio’s body.

“S-stop.”

What he felt was fear.

With every escort knight down, Agesio realized there was no one left to protect him. And he could not expect noble etiquette from the adventurer before him.

“I ordered you to stop!”

He shouted, but Najin did not stop.

Still retreating, Agesio finally tripped over a jutting stone and landed on his backside. Unable to flee any farther, he looked up at Najin, his eyes wavering.

“D-do you know who I...”

“I have no interest in who you are.”

Najin lowered himself to meet Agesio’s eyes.

“But let me give you one warning.”

His sunset-colored eyes gleamed like the eyes of a beast.

“Do not speak lightly of honor and pride. They are not so trivial that someone like you has any right to invoke them.”

With that, Najin straightened.

He walked away, leaving Agesio and the fallen knights behind. As his footsteps receded, Agesio bowed his head, breathing hard.

Relief that the ordeal was over. Humiliation that he had felt fear before a mere adventurer.

The two emotions coexisted, making Agesio grit his teeth. He had to acknowledge that he had been utterly defeated, and that he had failed.

CLICK.

At the sound of footsteps, Agesio raised his head. Dieta was walking toward him. She stopped before him, expressionless.

“What a sorry sight.”

Dieta looked down at Agesio. As she did, she smiled.

“Lord Agesio.”

“Do not look down on me. You castoff of the family—”

“My lord, I no longer belong to House Arbenia. That means I have no reason to endure insults of that sort.”

Dieta cut him off.

At the marquisal House Trevache, she had completed the process of stripping away her family name. She was no longer Dieta Arbenia, but Dieta, the great merchant of Cambria.

“You challenged my guard, and me, to a duel, and you lost. With so many people having watched it happen, surely we need no further witnesses?”

She smiled and gestured at their surroundings. The place Agesio had originally chosen to shame Najin and Dieta had now become a stage for his own, far greater humiliation.

“To the victor, the rights,” she whispered.

“To the loser, the price.”

The snake’s eyes gleamed. Her vivid yellow eyes became half-lidded.

“That is a duel. I am quite certain the lord of great Arbenia cannot be ignorant of such common knowledge, when even a mere merchant knows it.”

And so.

“Let us discuss the price you must pay.”

A knight fought the duel; a merchant collected its proceeds and exacted its price. Dieta had no intention of simply letting the sucker before her go. He was a well-stuffed purse that would spill gold coins if she turned him upside down and shook him out.

The Snake That Swallows Gold smiled.

3.

“... What is all this?”

“Your share, of course. What else would it be?”

In the Dieta Trading Company’s office, Najin pointed to the bulging purse and assorted certificates laid before him as he asked. Dieta answered with a smile as he tilted his head.

“The price of the duel. Goodness, I only prodded him a little, and he coughed up all sorts of things! How generous.”

Things she had wrung out of Agesio.

Dieta chuckled as she spoke. She seemed to have returned completely to being a merchant.

“Anyway.”

Dieta looked around the trading company’s office, hers once again... a place she had missed a little during her absence. She let out a long breath.

“I’m finally back here.”

Now, this place felt like home.

The company’s employees had also sighed with relief when Agesio left and Dieta returned. Pasion, who had been guarding the office, had burst into outright sobs.

[“Thank goodness. Thank goodness...”]

Dieta smiled ruefully as she recalled how long it had taken to soothe the wailing Pasion and send him out to wash his face.

“Let me have your clothes. I’ll have everything repaired.”

Dieta pointed at Najin’s coat.

Armor made from the Bloodred Troll’s hide would not tear easily... but considering whom Najin had fought, it was only natural that it was in tatters.

“I’ll repay my debt little by little, so look forward to it. You’ll be getting all sorts of things you never imagined.”

“I didn’t do it to receive anything...”

“I know. You were keeping your promise. If accepting it makes you uncomfortable, think of it as an investment.”

“Well, if that is how you see it, Madam...”

At Najin’s reply, Dieta fell silent for a moment. Before she knew it, he had gone back to addressing her as the company head. It felt... somehow, a little disappointing. Of course, she was the company head again, but... did it not feel as though he was drawing a line between them?

‘Come to think of it...’

Had he ever called her by her name?

She thought it over carefully, but she did not think he had. Najin was inherently polite toward others and never used their names casually.

It was not that she disliked that about him.

She truly did not dislike it.

Still, Dieta found herself wanting to hear him call her by her name. Yet she was too embarrassed to say that aloud, so she tried to think of a clever solution.

“Um, you know...”

They were alone in the office. Looking at Najin, Dieta spoke cautiously.

“Why don’t we drop the formalities?”

“... Pardon?”

“Let’s speak more casually. There doesn’t seem to be much of an age gap between us.”

“There is an eight-year difference.”

“That’s a fake age, though.”

“...”

“See! It is a fake age.”

As Najin quietly turned his gaze away, Dieta tapped the table with her palm.

“Surely you’re not younger than me?”

“...”

“Wait, are you really younger than me?”

Seeing Najin subtly avert his eyes, Dieta let out a long “Wow.” To be precise, Najin was eighteen and Dieta was twenty, but Dieta had no way of knowing that.

“You aren’t... right?”

“Let’s just consider ourselves close in age. Eight years really isn’t much of a difference.”

“You really won’t give up that cover story, will you?”

Dieta sighed and spoke again.

“Anyway, try speaking casually.”

“... Must I?”

“Yes. Calling me by my name would be even better.”

After thinking for a moment, Najin sighed and spoke.

“Dieta.”

Her shoulders gave a startled twitch.

“You told me to drop the formalities, so I will. Is this how you want it?”

“Y-yeah. Um...”

Dieta fumbled for words. Her face was bright red, and her eyes darted about, unable to find anywhere to settle.

“M-maybe we can speak casually another time.”

“... Why the sudden change?”

“I-I think just calling me by my name will be enough.”

“Well, if that is what you prefer...”

“T-take care on your way back. I have plenty of work to do, so...”

Head bowed low, Dieta murmured in a voice that dwindled to almost nothing. Najin tilted his head, then took the office doorknob and opened the door. As he did, he encountered Pasion, her guard knight, who had returned just then.

“Oh, leaving already? We could talk a little more—”

As Pasion brightened and tried to strike up a conversation with Najin, he caught sight of his mistress, her head bowed and her face red all the way to her ears.

... Pasion silently looked between Dieta and Najin.

The peculiar air between them. The peculiar atmosphere. A cold sweat broke out on him. Pasion was not an oblivious knight. A thought crossed his mind: Surely not.

“... We can talk another time. Take care on your way back.”

Pasion stepped aside for Najin.

His mistress appeared to have lost her composure, and he thought she might need a little time.