ISTV 37

Galph appeared on the second floor after completing his coming-of-age ceremony.

Since a duel with Seyla had been scheduled, many people whispered as they looked back and forth between the two.

As Galph descended the stairs, Themanon—who had barely been holding himself back—stood up.

“Today, my disciple Seyla d’Vernon and Galph Berruc, the eldest son of the House of Berruc, have agreed to a duel. I will act as witness and mediator for this duel.”

Though his voice was soft, it was laced with powerful magic, allowing everyone to hear him clearly.

“Did Lord Themanon just say he’d mediate?”

“What an honor for those two. It’ll be something they talk about for the rest of their lives.”

“For Themanon to act as mediator… this might carry more authority than the Central Sword Battle itself.”

The Central Sword Battle was an event hosted by the Central Empire every two years, a grand swordsmanship competition that all notable swordmasters participated in.

The results of the tournament were used to determine rankings and status among swordmasters, and it was considered the most credible of all duels.

“Exactly. The Central Sword Battle is officiated by top swordmasters of the Imperial Palace or people like the head of the Queibec family. I’ve never seen the Queibec head mediate a duel personally.”

“He wouldn’t step in lightly just because of the gravity of it. Maybe he has special affection for the Vassal Houses?”

“Well… officially, it’s a duel between his disciple and the heir of the First Vassal House, so that’s probably why.”

Very few truly believed Seyla had become Themanon’s disciple in the real sense of the word.

Most assumed her becoming his student had political motivations behind it.

Standing between Seyla and Galph, Themanon spoke.

“However, as the two have only just come of age, this will be a sparring match, not a life-or-death duel. Follow me.”

Themanon led the way, and people stepped aside and bowed their heads as he passed.

Some even knelt to the ground in reverence.

Seyla followed behind him, wrapped in a strange feeling.

‘Usually, he’s a kind and just uncle. A bit of a fool sometimes, even.’

But now he overwhelmed the crowd in a completely different way from Rachel.

If Rachel was like a lake that embraced everything, Themanon was a tidal wave that destroyed everything in its path.

That massive wave was swallowing all presence and dominating the space.

It was almost hard to believe that this was the same man who disliked being called “Master” and preferred being addressed as “Uncle.”

‘Damn… my uncle’s kinda cool.’

Following Themanon, they arrived at a sparring arena.

Large sparring arenas like this one always existed near temples.

Especially in the Eastern Continent.

‘Since temples often act like courts here.’

People frequently came to temples to resolve disputes of right and wrong.

Because of that, conflicts often broke out, and many ended in duels.

That’s why there was always a sparring ground near the temple.

‘I’ve seen places like this in 2D, but being up here in person? I’m shaking.’

Unexpectedly(?) the number of spectators was huge.

If not for her sense of composure, her knees might’ve been trembling.

Seyla grabbed the hem of her dress and tore it cleanly to the side for easier movement.

“G-Goodness…!”

“She ripped her dress?”

In the <HerMan> universe, this was utterly shocking behavior.

“This is not a duel to the death but a sparring match. I, the mediator, will intervene immediately if I judge that your lives are in danger. Seyla, Galph. Galph, Seyla. As fellow practitioners of the sword, you must show each other respect.”

Seyla and Galph each held their swords diagonally across their chest and bowed slightly.

“The sparring match begins. Take your positions.”

Galph suddenly felt nervous.

He never expected to spar in front of so many people. Much less with the head of the Queibec family as mediator.

‘I must show the dignity of the heir of the First Vassal House.’

He felt like the protagonist of this moment.

Looking at Seyla, who was to become his opponent, he couldn’t help but scoff internally.

As was proper for a sparring match, he asked politely,

“How long have you been training with a sword?”

“Three years, by calendar.”

Galph chuckled in disbelief.

He’d known, but still—three years?

“In that case, as your senior, I’ll allow you three strikes first.”

He enjoyed the attention of the crowd.

Allowing three preemptive strikes was a gesture of mercy from a superior swordsman.

‘I am the son of Berruc, of the First Vassal House of Queibec.’

He had held a sword since he could walk.

There was no way he could lose to someone who’d only trained for three years.

‘Huh?’

He suddenly lost track of Seyla’s movement.

Just for a second—but a chill prickled at the back of his neck.

‘What was that?’

Her movement had been too fast for him to register.

Cold sweat trickled down his back.

And Galph wasn’t the only one surprised.

Seyla herself was even more startled.

‘Why am I so fast?’

She had moved so quickly that Galph couldn’t even react.

She’d tapped into a speed she’d never shown before.

The audience murmured in real-time.

Most had wide eyes fixed on Seyla.

And Seyla, keeping to etiquette, spoke to her opponent.

—Whoa. I just slayed.

“If this were real combat, you’d be dead.”

Trying to hide his surprise, Galph responded shamelessly.

“I knew it was a feint. That’s why I didn’t react.”

Only then did the audience nod.

“Oh, so Galph saw through it?”

“He stayed still on purpose.”

Honestly, it made more sense to believe Galph had let it happen than that Seyla was overwhelmingly better.

Seyla withdrew her sword, spun once, and tapped Galph’s chest with her blade.

“That makes two deaths.”

Galph still didn’t react properly.

‘I have to block the third one at least.’

He had only given up three attacks, not his right to defend.

He clenched his teeth and read Seyla’s movement.

‘I see it!’

Yes, from left to right.

A slash aimed at his neck—he gathered his mana and prepared.

He was sure he’d blocked it.

‘I got it—huh?’

Seyla’s sword vanished from his view.

And the next thing he felt was her blade against his neck again.

—Damn, I’m amazing.

“That makes three deaths.”

Seyla herself was confused by how easily she was dominating Galph, but her face betrayed none of it.

Her movements were elegant like a butterfly, and her swordplay was clean and perfect.

“Your three allowed attacks are now over.”

“…”

Galph was realizing it.

The overwhelming difference between him and Seyla.

His mind went blank and his vision darkened.

“I will now use a technique called Frost Blade.”

It was standard sparring etiquette to announce your special technique beforehand.

‘Actually, my main style is Winter Blade.’

Winter Blade was a top-secret technique of the Queibec family.

So she had learned Frost Blade, its lesser counterpart, for public use.

She had always claimed to train in Frost Blade, and now she would use it.

“This is a sword style I learned from my master, Lord Themanon.”

And this was Galph’s chance.

Right after her announcement.

That moment was when concentration usually faltered.

‘I see an opening!’

It was clear Seyla didn’t have much sparring experience.

Only a rookie would make a mistake like that.

He saw an opening.

One that looked like it could pierce her heart.

Abandoning his pride, Galph chose practicality.

He lunged instantly at the gap.

Seyla remained calm and recited part of the technique incantation.

Also a matter of etiquette in duels.

“Blow, northern wind.”

She slashed upward from below.

A quick slash that left behind a blue afterimage.

The opening Galph had thought he saw—

Was one Seyla had deliberately created.

She swung right into the opening she had lured him into.

The moment their swords clashed, Galph’s body stiffened involuntarily.

‘Wh—what…?’

A vision of a cold northern wind appeared before him.

A sharp blizzard seemed to engulf his body.

‘My sword…’

The sword he received for his coming-of-age shattered in two and clattered to the ground.

The black-steel blade he had bragged about was no longer a sword.

Seyla calmly sheathed her blade and echoed Galph’s earlier words back to him.

“Seems you weren’t even worthy of a decent steel sword.”

In her first official duel, Seyla claimed an overwhelming victory.

‘But seriously, why am I this strong? What the heck?’

Inside, she was freaking out, but outwardly, she maintained the poised dignity of a noble lady.

“For all the rudeness you showed me—kneel and apologize.”

And many people had witnessed it with their own eyes.