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The young girl chuckled lightly. Even though this was such an incredibly fierce battle, a battle where she could lose her life at any moment, she revealed a smile of relief.
Upon her elfin beauty, a beauty so favored by the gods when they created humans that it could even make others feel ashamed of their own appearance, a smile emerged—as if she had cast something aside—an expression of utter ease.
Ultimately, was it to abandon the knightly code, already so deeply ingrained in her will, for her monarch? Or was it to forsake her loyalty to her lord for the sake of the knightly code that countless knights, and her own younger self, had followed with their lives?
For this incredibly innocent, yet exceedingly rigid young girl, it was a difficult choice to make, a decision that caused her immense pain.
Yes, sooner or later, her monarch and her beliefs would diverge. Perhaps, even her own sword, by order of her lord, would be wielded against those she protected, those she cherished.
Then, how should she choose? How should she judge?
She did not know.
Yes,
She did not know.
Even if this young girl named Liliana, among girls of her age, far surpassed the average standard in both achievements and temperament.
While those other girls were still heartbroken over a small gift, she had long grown accustomed to piercing her enemies' chests with her sharp sword. She had long grown accustomed to the gushing, crimson blood; long grown accustomed to missions so harsh they were nearly impossible, and the enmity and exclusion from colleagues driven by envy.
Without a word of complaint, she rushed from one battlefield to another—battlefields where she might offer up her life, as tender as a young flower. And then, on that battlefield, she would ensure all enemies died by her hand, by her sword.
Even so, even existing as a killing machine, she still had her own ideals, and she naturally bore the expectations of others.
She wanted to eradicate all evil in this world, to let every person attain the happiness they deserved.
Just like the knights of old who roamed, righting wrongs, she wandered aimlessly through the intricate alleys of Italy.
For these ideals, for the knightly code that coexisted with these ideals, she had already given so much.
So then, for a king she had just sworn allegiance to, for a man she had known for only a few days, for a fellow with an incredibly awful personality who regarded life as nothing—should she offer her loyalty, even to the point of shattering the knightly code that represented her ideals?
The young girl did not know.
But, at this moment, she had to make a choice.
Right now, the method for victory was grasped in her hand.
Even if she were to use it, no one would have any reason to reprimand her, nor would anyone have any opportunity to belittle her.
However, she could not forgive herself.
To use such a tactic for a duel that represented honor, to exploit the advantage of her weapon.
The young girl asked herself.
Is it worth it?
After only a moment, a fleeting instant, the young girl answered with resolute determination.
Worth it!
Thus she responded to her own heart, responding with immense firmness and resolve.
Even if that King scorned everyone she held dear,
Even if that King disregarded the lives of the innocent,
Even if that King had an incredibly awful, unbearable personality,
Even if that King had taken her chastity when they had just met.
Even if he had numerous discrepancies with the perfect king in this young girl's mind.
But, even so, he was the King she had pledged allegiance to; he was her monarch!
He was a monarch for whom she should not hesitate, even if it meant sacrificing the principles she had upheld for over a decade!
At this moment, in Liliana's eyes, those pale blue, jewel-like orbs that had been pained by the decision, now flashed with a resolute light.
My apologies, Lord Paul, the victory in this duel is precisely the gift I offer to my lord, a gift signifying my loyalty!
The young girl silently recited in her heart, reciting with a determination that cast everything aside. Upon her thin lips, like cherry blossoms, hung a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
Then, the two longswords, with a screech of steel, collided.
The next moment, Paul witnessed a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life.
It was light. It was a sword.
It was a light of incredible gentleness, like the embrace of an angel.
It was a sword of savage sharpness, like the judgment of a god.
As the young girl's cherry lips, without a tremor, uttered the word 'Durandal'.
That sword, that holy sword, the holy sword originally wielded by the knight among knights, the Paladin Roland, bloomed with its true brilliance!¹
Then, as the true name of that Noble Phantasm² was released.
The next moment.
In Paul's hand, the longsword forged by a renowned master, reinforced by a magus, shattered with a crack, as if it were something incredibly fragile.
The broken sword slammed onto the polished floor, which could reflect a person's image, playing a crisp, clear finale that signified the end of this duel.
"I… have been defeated."
That knight, like granite sculpted by a master artisan, said thus.
Although his face was filled with dejection, the unparalleled astonishment could not be concealed.
This middle-aged man, who had experienced countless duels and emerged victorious countless times, had met his first defeat.
Even against the King of Swords, a Godslayer, that man who had forged swordsmanship into his very deity, he could fight to a draw with his wisdom.
But, at this moment, he had failed.
With a trace of indescribable dejection, the man disheartenedly released the broken sword in his hand.
The hilt, falling and bouncing on the ground, striking the floor, narrated the despondency in the man's heart.
And responding to him was the young girl who had just achieved victory.
"Forgive me, I took a shortcut!"
Looking at the incredibly dejected man, her face was filled with deep apology.
"If you are willing, let us consider it a draw."
After a moment, the young girl spoke, her words hesitant.
She still found it hard to conceal her inner feelings.
Even though she had won, it was not at all honorable or fair.
The duel, which should have been determined by the qualities of a knight, which should have been incredibly sacred, testing the skills of the participants, had been shamelessly defiled by this young girl.
It wasn't that one couldn't use a weapon's advantage in a duel, but if a duel's outcome was decided by the weapon, it was a silent insult to the sanctity that the duel itself represented.
However, upon hearing these words, Paul gently shook his head.
"I lost, young knight. Well done."
But then, the dejection on his face was swept away, his handsome features now occupied by a cunning and eager expression.
Then, he directly knelt on one knee, addressing the King who had been observing the battle from the throne.
"O King, your humble servant has an impertinent request!"