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Swords clashed against swords, striking and ringing, the helpless screech of metal grinding against metal echoing in this incredibly spacious and opulent hall.
Beneath the two dancing blurs of dazzling silver light, even the gemstones arrayed like stars upon the lavishly decorated dome ceiling seemed utterly dim.
Whether the pretty young maiden or the handsome middle-aged man, both were doing their utmost to display the entirety of their martial skills.
This was a contest of stamina, experience, martial arts, strength, and indeed, many other facets.
And the consequence of failure, the price to be paid, was not only the life of one of them but also that luxury item far more precious to them than life itself: dignity.
The clash of swords continued. The middle-aged knight and the tender young girl alike both desired to claim this victory.
However, at this moment, they were nearly evenly matched.
Of course, it was merely nearly.
And now, upon the young girl's incomparably lovely little face, upon her beauty that was originally so resolute, so stern, a trace of difficulty had appeared.
No!
The young girl's heart cried out, a lament tinged with unwillingness.
If this continues, the chances of victory are far too slim.
Liliana thought this, and if not for her transformation into a Heroic Spirit,¹ her fair and smooth, pretty face would have long since been unbecomingly beaded with sweat.
Of course, if she hadn't become a Heroic Spirit, she wouldn't have been able to last even this long.
If the young girl's swordplay was a gentle breeze caressing willow leaves, then what this man named Paul, Italy's highest knight, unleashed was a sword net as dense as a waterfall.
Wave after wave of unceasing attacks flowed from the man's wrist. This incredibly handsome man, as if carved from rock, seemed to possess limitless strength, tirelessly and endlessly brandishing a rain of sword strikes like a surging tide.
At this rate, I will lose!
The young girl understood this fact for the countless time. Even though she possessed nearly inexhaustible stamina, and her spirit would not tire from such a prolonged battle.
However, she was still far from adapting to this Heroic Spirit's body.
The multiplied strength, the speed far exceeding her former self, or even the near-infinite stamina—at this moment, while they gave the girl the chance to face this man directly, they also made it difficult for her to win.
That's right, this drastically increased physical prowess had instead become her stumbling block.
Neither the martial arts the girl had honed, nor the experience gleaned from countless battles, had reached a level sufficient to adapt to all situations.
At this moment, the suddenly enhanced strength caused the longsword she thrust out to deviate slightly. The martial arts she had practiced innumerable times were now in disarray; even the most basic cleave would be somewhat misshapen.
This was not even the most severe problem. What was more critical was this:
That man named Paul, the paragon among knights, a man who had already experienced countless battles, had now seen through all of this.
And what this brought was an even faster rain of sword strikes. The sound of the longsword tearing through the air had long since merged into a continuous roar, and the sword light danced from his sturdy wrist like a downpour lashing in one's face, without a single gap.
Since the opponent has not yet mastered her power, then I shall defeat her before she does!
This was Paul's conviction at this moment, a perfectly natural tactic to achieve victory.
Having already experienced countless battlefields, he naturally understood how to deal with individuals who enhanced their strength through external means.
The more mismatched the power was with the martial skill, the more openings it would create.
Paul had known this principle for decades.
And facing such an almost unstoppable offensive, Liliana bit her pale pink lower lip in frustration.
Her slender and fair, delicate hands had even turned slightly purple from excessive exertion.
Such a battle had already far exceeded what she could endure.
Although she held an overwhelming advantage in strength, speed, and even in stamina, which was crucial for prolonged combat.
However, her excessive strength made it difficult to control the trajectory of the holy sword in her hand; her overly agile speed made it hard to maintain her footing. And at this moment, her only advantageous trait, her stamina, didn't even have a chance to be showcased.
If she didn't seize an opportunity soon, she would likely be defeated before her opponent's stamina was exhausted.
Moreover, a duel was not as superficial as a test of brute strength.
Power, speed, and stamina were all crucial conditions.
But above them, there were things called experience, martial arts, wisdom, and worldly knowledge.
Whether in terms of martial arts refined through countless trials, or experience gained from battle after battle, there was an overwhelming disparity between the two.
And in wisdom and worldly experience, Paul, who was several times Liliana's age, represented an absolutely insurmountable gap compared to this fledgling young girl.
Indeed, in this aspect, Liliana herself knew she didn't stand a chance.
However, it wasn't as if there were no options at this moment. The weapon that could reverse the course of this duel was still clutched tightly in the young girl's hand.
But, should I really do this?
Liliana asked herself. Such a despicable tactic, a method that would defile this sacred duel—would it truly be permitted by the knight's code? Would it truly be accepted by her own heart?
Within her jewel-like eyes, as pure as a clear sky, as azure as a boundless, deep blue sea, there was a hint of unspoken pain, a hesitation before the choice.
And at this moment, the knight named Paul also seemed to have noticed something.
Currently, although he still had considerable stamina remaining, the situation was not optimistic.
He had yet to achieve any significant results, and in this deadlocked duel, there was not the slightest advantage to gladden his heart.
After all, even if he used his experience to maintain a certain edge, his opponent was not so easily defeated.
Thus, he swung his wrist with even greater force, and the longsword upon it, which had long since become a streak of silver light.
He craved victory, craved this hard-won victory, craved a victory that would prove his honor.
Even if it meant destroying a young girl, he would not hesitate!
This was his knightly way.
And watching that sword net, like a torrential downpour, grow denser, more indistinguishable, more unstoppable.
The young girl with the delicate, elfin face, also bit her silver teeth lightly.
She asked herself.
Was it the King she had just pledged loyalty to, or the knightly code she had followed for over a decade—what, at this moment, was truly the most precious?
Ultimately, how should she choose?