「It turned out exactly as I said, young descendant.」

"..."

「You haven't become a full-fledged sword walker, but you have managed to brush against the realm of superhumans. You might say you've barely set foot across the threshold.」

The special “path” possessed only by the Caravans.

The power of the line was astonishing. That last strike had been closer to a magical implement or a siege weapon than a dagger. It had pulverized bone and flesh alike. With such ease.

"... I don't have any strength left."

「That's because you used too much of it. Don't worry. I have plenty of training prepared to help you become a proper sword walker.」

Was I supposed to be happy about that or not?

In my experience, Liam's training only grew harder, never easier. I was getting increasingly afraid of what might come next.

Well, if he told me to do it, I'd have to do it, wouldn't I?

As always.

"He's so heavy it's killing me."

Rather than worry about training that hadn't even begun, I worried about my current predicament. The leader of the Red Wolves bandits hadn't had the decency to die neatly with blades stuck in his neck. The bastard had died with his fucking huge, heavy body crushing me beneath it.

"I might get crushed to death under here."

「Considering that pathetic body of yours, I wouldn't rule it out.」

With a sigh, I wiped the blood from my face and body. Then, in a rather undignified struggle, I shoved at the leader's body and crawled out. My head was covered in mud, but there was no one watching, so what did it matter...?

「Hmm.」

But when I emerged from beneath the leader's corpse in all my undignified glory, I discovered I had been wrong.

「You're bringing disgrace upon the entire Caravan family.」

Two familiar faces were there.

"... Little Gladiator?"

"Young Lord Arhan?"

The knight Petel and Seolyun held their blazing torches toward me. They must have had a very clear view of my wretched state. A very clear view indeed.

* * *

"Thank you."

I wiped the blood and mud off my body with the towel Seolyun handed me. As I finally began to look somewhat human again, Petel silently stared at the corpse of the leader I had killed.

"... Did you truly kill this man, young lord? Alone, without anyone's help?"

"Pardon? Oh, yes. I was lucky."

"Lucky... Luck."

For some reason, Petel's expression looked bleak.

"Young lord, a mere sword beginner cannot kill a sword walker through sheer luck."

"..."

"The young Lord Arhan I remember was a swordsman with exceptional talent, but little experience. You had great potential, yet many shortcomings. But this..."

Petel's eyes moved to and fro.

An experienced knight who had attained mastery of the sword walker realm, he could probably read the battle that had taken place from the traces left here alone.

After a long silence, he spoke with difficulty.

"Your talent is far greater than I thought, young Lord Arhan."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Perhaps you were telling the truth when you said you won because you were lucky."

Petel smiled bitterly.

"Being chosen by heaven is a matter of luck, too."

"..."

"And the fact that I wasn't chosen... must ultimately be luck as well."

Petel seemed to be having an especially hard time today. I couldn't tell whether climbing the mountain at night had worsened his illness, or whether his approaching death had brought on a bout of depression.

"Let's go down. It's dangerous here," he said with a sigh.

Seeing his haste, I asked, "Dangerous? What's here?"

"A knightly order is roaming this mountain as we speak."

A knightly order.

A force of violence far too powerful to be appearing in this rural backwater. I stared blankly for a moment, then asked in a dazed voice.

"A knightly order? Has your order come to visit, Sir Petel? To see you?"

"No. That would have been nice, but unfortunately, they must have forgotten me completely," Petel answered, shaking his head.

"The order came here to execute the deserter knight you killed... the leader of the Red Wolves bandits."

"Oh."

"And they won't react kindly when they find the deserter knight already dead."

A knightly order would come to execute the bandit leader. Petel had warned me of that earlier, but I hadn't expected it to actually happen.

Well, the leader of a bandit company named in the knights' fashion was a deserter knight, of all things. Perhaps this had been inevitable.

He had managed to give the order not one but two reasons to hate him.

But at that moment, something other than the arrival of the knightly order caught my attention.

Petel's claim that they wouldn't react kindly.

I simply couldn't make sense of that.

"Shouldn't they thank me for taking revenge on their behalf?"

"Common sense would suggest so, but knights don't think that way. They came to strip a traitor of his honor and execute him through lawful, legitimate procedures. The order will believe a stranger has stolen their opportunity to pass judgment and deliver punishment."

Stolen.

The word made my head spin.

Seriously, if some bastard had committed a crime, couldn't anyone punish him? Why quibble over judgment and punishment and all that crap...?

Then Liam spoke.

「Didn't I tell you? Knights are a far cry from righteous.」

"..."

「It seems we're in for some trouble.」

Liam glanced around the dark mountain trail before adding,

「Those knights seem to be practically on top of us already.」

No sooner had he spoken than the clatter of hooves echoed all around us. At the same time, dazzling light poured in from every direction.

"Who did this?"

Light flooded the midnight mountain, illuminating our surroundings. Countless heavily armed knights came into view, wearing magnificent silver helmets.

"Speak, before my patience runs out entirely."

A knightly order.

Judges clad head to toe in iron were pointing their blades at us. The light was so bright I could barely keep my eyes open.

"Speak! Who took it upon themselves to hunt down and kill the runaway dog we were meant to punish?"

The knight at the head of the order roared like a wild beast.

The instant his voice rang out, a headache struck me as though a hammer had hit my skull. My stomach churned, and my whole body felt as if it were breaking apart.

'Am I too exhausted?'

I felt as though I might lose my breath altogether. With my heart pounding madly, I glanced to my side and saw that Seolyun had gone deathly pale. She, too, seemed to be buckling beneath this terrifying pressure.

Amid air that seemed to have grown heavy, Petel alone remained composed.

Facing the knight who had shouted, he opened his mouth with a look of resolve. His voice emerged weak and cracked from all his coughing.

"I killed him."

A powerful knight, valiant and imposing.

Before him stood an old, sick, abandoned knight whose eyes shone.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear me? Petel the Loyal, formerly of the Green Stags, victor of seventeen duels of honor, a man who has always upheld his honor. I am the one who killed him. That deserter knight of yours."

Petel, who had coughed up blood time and again, spoke clearly this time without coughing once. His voice rang through the quiet mountain.

"Is there a problem?"

The knight stood motionless and silent at Petel's words.

Then he squeezed his eyes shut, let out a deep sigh, and spoke.

"Petel the Loyal."

"Yes."

"You have sullied your honor as a knight. We told you beforehand that we would execute the runaway dog. You knew we were pursuing him. You knew of our wrath. Yet you ruined our sacred judgment and punishment. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Petel answered without hesitation.

After hearing his answers, the knight spoke.

"Petel."

"Yes."

"I challenge you to a duel of honor."

Those brief words fell, followed by a dreadful silence.

Breaking that silence, wings sprouted from the knight's back.

The mark of a sword runner.

Proof of a truly powerful warrior.

While everyone stared in shock, Petel alone remained impassive once again.

"Yes."

Why?

The ailing knight gave the same answer yet again.

* * *

A duel of honor.

A tradition passed down among knights, who swore at their investiture to uphold honor and discipline no matter what.

Under the pretext of punishing someone who had sullied their honor or broken the rules, the combatants wagered their lives and honor in a duel. The victor regained honor among their fellow knights, while the loser forfeited all honor and had their corpse displayed in the square.

For that reason, duels of honor were not readily agreed to, especially when there was a gap in skill between the two combatants.

Knights considered it better to have their heads severed on a guillotine than to suffer dishonor and every imaginable insult even after death. To them, honor was more precious than life.

"Why did you do it?"

That was why Arhan asked Petel that question now.

"I saw the openings in the back of that knight's armor. Unless he's some perverted exhibitionist, doesn't that prove he's a sword runner? He even spread his wings proudly before issuing his challenge! How are you supposed to beat a sword runner, Sir Petel?"

"... I can't."

"And you're not even well! You said you wanted to watch the sunset and die alone. Then do that. Even if your illness worsens and you die someday, I'll honor you and cherish your memory. So tell him you won't do it, even now."

The boy, Arhan, spoke with a deeply agitated expression. For some reason, Petel smiled at his rather aggressive tone. He felt no anger.

He said, "Thank you for caring so much about me, young lord."

"..."

"You are a good person, young Lord Arhan. You've known me for so little time, yet you're this angry at the thought of me dying pointlessly. Well now, that does feel good."

At Petel's words, Arhan replied heatedly.

"You're certain to lose. And losing won't just cost you your life, but sully your honor as well? Aren't you a knight who values honor above all else? At least, of all the knights I've seen, you're the most honorable—"

"It's all right."

Petel cut Arhan off, then answered,

"Sometimes there are things more important than honor."

With lonely eyes, he murmured, "Just once, I wanted to be the hero, too."

Looking down at his trembling hands, Petel said,

"A man like the hero of a chivalric novel, who yields to no fear and can stand proudly against even the most terrifying enemy."

His illness would not miraculously vanish before the duel.

Reality was not a novel.

Petel felt time eating away at him. Perhaps he would lose even to the boy or girl before him, let alone that knight who had reached the realm of sword runners. The strength he had earned through grueling effort was an illusion.

An illusion that crumbled and collapsed in an instant before death.

Like the illusions the wandering Gypsies called mirages.

But...

"That has been my dream for a very long time."

Petel wanted to know whether it truly was nothing more than an illusion.

Even if it cost him both his life and his honor.

"... You'll regret this, Sir Petel."

The boy gritted his teeth, turned, and ran off somewhere. Remaining seated, Petel let out a hearty chuckle and laid a hand on his sword.

Then he watched the sun rise as dawn broke.

The sight resembled the sunsets he loved.

Dawn looked like the twilight between the end of day and the coming of night, yet its nature was entirely different. Petel gazed at the rising sun for a long time, as though lost in it.

* * *

「He will die,」 Liam declared.

「A masterful sword walker? A seasoned knight with plenty of dueling experience? None of that means a damn thing.」

「A duel between a sword beginner and a sword walker might be another matter. But in a duel between a sword walker and a sword runner, there is no possibility of the sword walker winning.」

Liam did not lie when it came to the sword.

And he had never been wrong so far.

「The higher you climb through the realms of the sword, the more staggering the gaps become.」

「This is an execution ceremony. The sword runner will mercilessly destroy that sick knight like a lion trampling an ant, shatter his honor, and desecrate his corpse. Just as the knights I knew did.」

Panting, I watched the sun rise beyond the mountains.

The sun was maddeningly bright.

「Why are you so attached to this knight Petel in the first place? Even if he dies, his blade will remain, and you can get what you wanted. He's just some knight you've barely gotten to know, isn't he?」

Even Liam's cold words failed to calm my heart.

The reason was simple.

"... He reminds me of my father."

My father, who had lost his sanity after suffering at the hands of the swordmaster Carlos, spouted utterly bizarre words, and confronted the strongest man on the continent with a pitiful blade.

In Petel, who had chosen to face an enemy he could never defeat and murmured that he could not avoid it, I saw a vision of my father.

"That's why I can't bear this situation."

「...」

"I utterly despise seeing arrogant, insolent people with power trample noble, honorable people who are weaker, just because they're stronger. If I turn away from this, I feel like my revenge won't mean anything at all."

Liam listened silently as the words poured out of me.

Then he tossed out a question.

「Even if it means losing your chance to obtain a seasoned sword walker's sword?」

"I don't care about that. There's something else that truly matters!"

Despite my harsh retort, Liam remained unruffled.

Floating in the air, he grinned.

「This is good to see. The sword is important, but you mustn't become consumed by a weapon that is, after all, merely a blade. I like your attitude, young descendant.」

Liam slowly approached me.

Then he murmured into my ear as though whispering.

「There is a way. A way for everyone to be happy.」

"What is it?"

His answer came a moment later.

「Fight in his stead.」

"...?"

「Become his champion in the duel of honor, young descendant. That is the only way.」