Chapter 4: Holy Knight vs. Holy Knight
“Then, let the battle begin!!”
The voice of Anon, the referee, echoed through the arena. Following the command, Ashley took her stance.
Her combat style utilized both sword and shield. However, just because she was skilled with her shield didn’t mean she was merely a shield-bearer.
The reason she had dedicated most of her battles against the Hero Party to defense was that she had no other choice. After all, she was a Holy Knight, possessing skills that matched her title. She held a strong belief that she could rival even the Knight Commander of the kingdom.
Yet, in this battle, Ashley decided to adopt a strategy of exploiting the defensive opponent’s openings right from the start. This was largely due to the fact that the young man before her, who introduced himself as Row, had no apparent weaknesses.
From his stance, it was clear that the young man’s swordsmanship was based on the mainstream Sword Style practiced in the kingdom.
As both fighters cautiously observed each other, it was Row who made the first move. He shouted and lunged forward.
It was a strike that was both fast and heavy. The fact that his weapon was a wooden sword made it manageable to withstand—however, Ashley soon realized the mistake she had made.
“Seriously, he’s going all out right from the first strike?” she thought, but Row’s form suddenly blurred before her eyes.
What followed was a relentless barrage of strikes from Row.
It was a grave misjudgment to think of him as just a practitioner of Sword Style swordsmanship. While his foundation was indeed Sword Style, his technique was something entirely different. His swordsmanship was honed for real combat, specializing in practical applications.
In other words, his technique was a blend of “wildness and refinement, built upon a solid foundation.” Ashley felt a shiver run down her spine, pondering how much real combat experience it must have taken to reach such a level.
Row continued his assault with a speed that could rival even a Sword Saint, delivering effective and unconventional attacks. Ashley was acutely aware that her defense was being chipped away with each passing moment. Yet, she refused to back down.
While Row was undoubtedly a top-tier swordsman, he was not beyond her capabilities. The continuous strikes and her large shield held firm against them, creating a stalemate where both sides were equally matched.
But Ashley knew one thing: in a stalemate, the first to lose their composure would be the one to lose the fight. The key was to seize any openings that presented themselves. Her instinct for finding the right moment was exceptional.
After what felt like an eternity of relentless strikes, Row unleashed his most powerful blow yet.
“This is it!!” Ashley thought.
The moment of respite in his onslaught, the relaxation of his Qi as he prepared to withdraw—there was one more thing—an instant that felt like an eternity. Would the moment ripen, or would it slip away? The goddess of victory smiled upon Ashley.
Row blinked—at that instant,
“Now!!”
She exposed her body from behind her shield and thrust forward with a speed that left no room for recognition.
“I got you!!”
Though she didn’t voice it, she felt a surge of confidence in her victory—until the very moment it was shattered.
Row, with a speed that surpassed all he had shown so far, thrust his sword upward from below, deflecting her attack.
“Is he still able to go faster?” Ashley thought in disbelief, realizing that, like her, he was also watching for an opening.
Row’s speed increased even further, and he began to move in a way that seemed almost acrobatic, darting to the blind spots of her shield with precision.
Ashley could not see the end of his capabilities.
Before the battle, she had some thoughts about Row. She wanted to evaluate him as accurately as possible.
This was because she felt it would be unfair to measure him against the Sword Saint she had fought just days prior. It was more out of compassion—rather, as someone who would decide whether to allow him to accompany them, Ashley felt a twinge of sympathy for him.
—Evaluate him accurately.
While deflecting his attacks from his blind spots, she recalled her own words and felt a wave of shame for her arrogance.
“Is this enough to meet the standards of a Holy Knight?” Row asked.
“Not even close!!”
With a Shield Bash, she sent Row flying back. She couldn’t use skills or magic, and the difference in physical abilities was glaring. In terms of swordsmanship, they were roughly equal. To win… Ashley saw only one path to victory.
There was a hint of overconfidence in his words. If that was the case, then there was something she could do—she had to.
“Power is what truly matters!!”
As he muttered something, he leaned forward dramatically, launching himself from the ground like an arrow released from a taut bow.
Her instincts screamed at her to dodge, but it was impossible. Then she would have to deflect—too late—an explosive sound echoed as Row struck her large shield with a fist, creating a massive hole right in the center.
That fist was right in front of Ashley’s face. He grasped the edge of the shattered shield.
What is he—? The moment that thought crossed her mind, Ashley found herself lifted into the air.
In a contest of strength, she had never lost, not even to her master—how could this happen to me?—the sensation of floating, followed by a sudden drop.
But instead of crashing down, she was halted just before impact. It was a complete defeat. The moment she recognized this, all her strength drained away.
Ashley’s memories of battle ended there.
When she awoke, she found herself back in bed.
“Not a bad awakening, is it?”
A beautiful woman with black hair—Omi—sat cross-legged on a chair beside her bed.
“I’ve completely healed the damage to your body and mind from earlier.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Ashley blushed at the sight of Omi’s partially exposed chest from her kimono, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her.
“No need for thanks. More importantly, that battle you fought was impressive. You did well, considering you were still recovering.”
Omi’s voice was filled with warmth.
“More importantly, my lord, you were almost killed back there.”
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