Swordmaster of the Great Wall

Two days had passed.

The incident where the head of a merchant group was brutally murdered in the Krupp territory became a topic of conversation among the people, but, contrary to expectation, the matter did not escalate.

It was as if it had been quietly buried without a trace.

'It seems the grand duchess must have intervened.'

Of course, beneath the surface, the grand duchess's influence seemed to have worked to prevent the incident from growing bigger.

After all, the ones involved were the very subordinates she would use for her various schemes. She wouldn't want rumors spreading either.

After that, Milon did not take any notable actions. However, Erich knew that wasn't because he had followed Erich's advice.

'Sneaking out at night, huh... Looks like he's gotten a lead on something in his own way.'

The servants enjoyed gossiping about the mansion's scandals. That was why the fact that Milon, who had always lived so boringly, wandered about in the middle of the night was soon on everyone's lips.

Of course, just like the servants giggled among themselves, Milon was not sneaking out to meet anyone in secret. It was probably because he wanted to resolve his questions about the recent incident.

Although that would put Milon's life in danger, Erich felt no obligation to worry about him. There were more pressing matters at hand.

"Sir Erich, it's almost time for you to enter."

"Hm, I understand."

Erich picked up the sword beside him and stepped forward. Immediately, a thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd. It felt even more packed than what he had seen during the round of 64.

― Waaaaaah!!!

'It seems that rumors about the round of 64 are drawing in more and more people.'

The round of 64 which Erich had first taken part in—there had not been many survivors among those who lost to him in that round. Perhaps only that young viscount whom Erich had gone easy on.

But on the other hand, such rumors of a blood-soaked tournament brought even larger crowds for the round of 32.

"Erich von Krupp, the third son of the grand duke's house, will now enter!"

When Erich's name was called, the crowd became all the more frenzied. The overwhelming victories he had displayed were branded into their minds.

Then, his opponent gradually revealed himself. Climbing the stairs, he was a middle-aged knight clad in yellowish brass armor. Upon his cape fluttered an emblem in the form of the sun.

'... A holy knight?'

Erich realized at once that he was a holy knight of the order. Not only from the armor, but also the sun-shaped insignia on his cape, unmistakably indicating his affiliation with the order.

Still, even for Erich, the appearance of a holy knight was quite unexpected.

Weren't the holy knights an organization who kept to themselves and rarely mingled with outsiders?

"Sir Alexander, Exalted Knight of the Allflame Order, from the Order of Innocence, enters."

Alexander, having stepped into the arena, set down his sword and shield and quietly traced a sign of the cross upon himself. However, in that moment, Erich realized he was not 'just one of those holy knights who keep to themselves'.

'The way he handles his shield and sword, he looks more like a warrior than a cleric.'

Erich and Alexander approached each other slowly, neither making a move first. The grand duke looked down from above and slowly lowered his hand, signaling the start.

― Tap!

Alexander was the first to charge. Shield forward, he rushed at Erich. Erich pointed his sword at Alexander as he advanced, stepping back in retreat.

Erich's sword collided with Alexander's shield, sending off small sparks.

― Kagagagak!

'He's planning to knock my sword away as soon as it meets his shield. Very typical of a holy knight.'

Erich, clearly seeing through Alexander's intent, used subtle footwork and distance to prevent the fight from unfolding as Alexander wanted.

At that moment, the middle-aged holy knight suddenly crouched.

Those lacking experience would be thrown off if things didn't unfold as they wished. But this holy knight simply, without stubbornness, leapt the short distance and shoved his shield in.

― Kwaang!

Their bodies collided. The holy knight, having given up on targeting Erich's sword, now aimed to throw Erich off balance.

"Hhup!"

With a shout, the knight swung his sword in an arc. Yet Erich, at the point of collision, simply let the attack flow past him like a feather.

Erich and Alexander passed each other.

― Kagagagak!

Erich's sword glanced off the shoulder armor of the holy knight, throwing sparks. Then the deflected sword grazed Alexander's cheek.

Back and forth, they traded blows. Their swords just barely missed vital spots, each blade grazing the other's body by the closest of margins.

Even the audience held their breath during the tense exchange, watching with clenched fists.

The fierce duel continued, an exchange of strikes meant to tear at each other's flesh. The audience's cheers erupted again when Erich's sword skimmed Alexander's neck.

― Chyaiiiing.

A thin line of blood sprang from the holy knight's neck. But Alexander did not panic. Instead, he used his shield to block Erich's line of sight, created a blind spot, then retreated.

Watching Erich carefully, Alexander tested the wound on his neck. Satisfied that the bleeding was minimal, he smiled faintly.

"... Impressive. I hear the Krupp children are the greatest up-and-comers in the South—the rumors weren't lies."

The greatest promising talents in the South, huh? Erich laughed to himself. Fact is, he had never once been included among those prodigies.

"Seems you've heard rumors about my older brothers. As for the bastard, there were more rumors saying the Krupp's illegitimate child would be best off as just a squire somewhere."

Best off as a squire. In fact, that was something Erich had often heard in his previous life. Nobody said it to his face, but everyone thought so.

For the child of the famous Krupp swordsmen to be a squire and a civil official—it was its own kind of insult. That was, of course, why he'd run away from home.

"So rumors can't be trusted after all. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Alexander, Exalted Knight of the Allflame Order. Some call me the Lion of Barendorf."

"... The Lion of Barendorf. Are you the very one who fought in the Battle of Barendorf?"

"That is correct. Although I don't know how the rumors have spread throughout the South."

The Lion of Barendorf, Alexander. Erich had very much heard of this name.

'... Rumors can't always be trusted, but this man was the real thing.'

The title "Lion of Barendorf" was earned when Alexander scaled the city walls, slew a hundred soldiers, and opened the city gates.

The 100-to-1 legend.

Usually, legends about overwhelming ratios like that are unbelievable—often the numbers are wildly exaggerated or entirely false.

But with Alexander—the genuine Lion of Barendorf—the tale was true.

Even in his old age, he would later play a major role in the Empire's civil war.

Stories of him fighting ten knights at once or repelling armies while commanding only dozens of men—tales that sounded impossible—were just a few of the heroic exploits attached to his name. He was something like a living legend factory.

Why, Erich wondered, was he facing such a formidable opponent as early as the round of 32? Was this all just coincidence?

Of course, every one of the round of 64 survivors was a powerful combatant. But there weren't many bona fide renowned 'real' powerhouses of this level.

'Looks like my stepmother paid special attention to this matchup.'

Erich slowly glanced at the grand duchess seated in the place of honor. And then at Konrad, seated beside her.

Perhaps the grand duchess had made some promise to Konrad, who managed the tournament matchups. And that "something" must have been enticing enough to appeal to Konrad's interests.

Yet Erich had confidence, no matter who he faced—even if it was the Lion of Barendorf himself.

By this point, he had already assessed Alexander completely.

***

― Swish.

Erich shifted his grip on his sword. From holding it with both hands, he switched to one-handed, with his free hand drawn back behind him.

Alexander, unable to guess Erich's intention, furrowed his brow.

'... A one-handed swordsman can't beat a sword-and-shield user. What is he thinking?'

Certain of this, Alexander re-readied his stance.

This time, Erich swiftly closed in on Alexander. In response, Alexander-nimbly lifted his shield to prepare for the attack.

― Shhhh!

In a blink, Erich's sword shot for Alexander's abdomen. The middle-aged holy knight quickly lowered his shield to intercept.

A slow smile formed on Alexander's lips. Such a direct attack could simply be brushed away. Then the opponent would be left wide open.

Or so he thought.

But in that instant—

― Tak!

Alexander's expression hardened. Just as he was about to deflect Erich's sword with his shield, Erich's free hand dove in and grabbed tightly onto Alexander's shield.

― Kkuuuuuuhk.

Erich's forearm bulged in an instant. Alexander couldn't shake off this youth's grip. It was absolute, overwhelming strength.

But it was then that everyone watching the match—Alexander included—realized: With his shield lowered to intercept Erich's attack, Alexander could no longer swing his sword at Erich.

He had been immobilized.

Now, the only one with the opening to strike was Erich.

"This is...impossible!"

― Kwaaaak!

Erich's sword pierced through the gap in Alexander's armor near his abdomen.

"Keugh!"

Alexander coughed blood, staring up at Erich, whose sword was plunged into him. But Erich wore no expression of triumph—just a blank, unreadable gaze.

Then, as if resigned, Alexander opened his mouth with difficulty.

"Finish it. The victory is yours."

"Hm...."

The moment he heard those words, Erich instantly withdrew his sword.

― Kwajik!

The force knocked Alexander down to his knees.

"Kugh!"

Both Erich and Alexander knew: had Erich twisted the blade as he withdrew it, Alexander would have died on the spot. Though he was injured, the fight could continue. As Alexander tried to stand—

"Stay down. You mustn't die here."

"... What do you mean by that?"

Perplexity flickered in Alexander's eyes. Erich continued.

"I can't afford to lose. It's my conviction—even death would be preferable."

"Your life is needed elsewhere. Don't throw it away in a pointless place like this."

"I'm already close to fifty. What more could I possibly achieve?"

"You can become even stronger. Others may not see it, but to me, it's clear as day."

Hearing this, Alexander replayed their fight in his mind.

The opponent had slipped his empty hand deep inside the shield's arm space, immobilizing it.

It was simple in words, but in actual combat, an almost impossible feat. If Erich hadn't been strong enough, his wrist would have been sliced clean by the sharp shield edge.

Alexander let out a chuckle. Advice from a swordsman far younger than himself. Such hope was a privilege of youth—something long out of his reach.

'Arrogant brat. He may be strong, but he's a century too early to be giving me advice.'

Having finished the thought, Alexander reached to pick up his fallen sword.

― Wung.

Alexander froze in place. For just a moment, Erich's eyes exuded a vivid spirit, glowing crimson.

The middle-aged holy knight's eyes widened. The pinnacle a swordsman could reach, attained at such a young age, stood before him.

His mind whirled in confusion.

"You can become stronger."

The arrogant advice he'd dismissed was now becoming a reality.

He, too, knew the rumors about swordmasters' 'eyes'.

Maybe, just maybe, this youth truly had seen his potential.

The holy knight dropped his sword and raised both hands.

"I surrender."

The audience erupted into thunderous cheers. Erich's sword slid smoothly back into its sheath.

― Chlunk.

Erich slowly turned and walked out of the arena. Alexander, clutching his wounded abdomen, watched him go.

'... Those who face you next are to be pitied.'

Yet, even in defeat, a smile lingered on Alexander's lips.

"To think I can still grow stronger... Is it really true?"

It wasn't merely an empty hope, but words spoken from the mouth of a swordmaster. Whether true or not, he found it compelling. Even now, in his old age, it stirred him deeply.

Alexander felt he would one day meet that young man again. Because in that moment, he had read something in Erich's eyes.

It was as if he was explaining what he already knew—a mysterious sensation, an attitude that had already transcended everything as trivial. The middle-aged holy knight slowly stood again.

He held onto the thought that there would be a reason, one day, that God had spared his life today.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】