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Unfortunately for Alphonse, by the time the children left the mansion, the duel had already ended.

Only the shattered ground, supporting Damian and Reinhardt, offered a glimpse, albeit indirectly, of how fierce their clash had been.

Alphonse swept his gaze over the remnants on the ground, trying to picture how they fought.

Within a 30-meter radius of Damian and Reinhardt, there were four broken wooden swords. Two lay not far from where the two were standing, while the other two were in their hands. The shapes of the breaks varied, hinting who might have broken which.

Two of the broken ends were relatively clean, while the other two had completely splintered into pieces. Reinhardt was brushing the splinters off the wooden sword he held, making it easy to discern which belonged to whom.

A martial artist of considerable skill wouldn’t easily lose their weapon.

They know how to minimize damage to their own weapons while also understanding how to break their opponent’s. Yet, the fact that both swords had broken four times suggested that it had been an evenly matched and intense battle.

While examining the wooden swords strewn on the floor, Alphonse couldn’t help but be in awe of the traces left by Reinhardt.

The cut surfaces were so clean that if pieced together, it would be hard to distinguish where the break had occurred. The shocking part was that these marks were left by Reinhardt, not his brother Damian.

For a swordsman of equal status to achieve such results was nothing short of miraculous, and that it happened not once, but twice allowed him to indirectly confirm Reinhardt’s immense prowess as a sword fighter.

Indeed, as the Sword Saint’s heir, Reinhardt didn’t seem to lag behind Damian in terms of sword skills. To be frank, based solely on the traces left on the swords, one could argue that his sword technique was superior.

While Alphonse still held onto thoughts of Damian’s superiority, he could no longer do so when confronted with the marks left on the sword. If he were to imagine the wooden sword as a steel one, he doubted it would have cut quite that cleanly.

Conversely, if Damian had wielded a steel sword instead of a wooden one, it was clear he would have turned it to dust as well, affirming that the earlier claims from both had been correct.

The area around them, just like the broken swords, lay in utter chaos, yet curiously, the two culprits appeared completely unscathed, as if not a speck of dust had touched them.

As they had casually remarked about it being light exercise post-meal, this indeed seemed like a rather trivial sparring match from their perspective.

If the number of broken swords were scores, they would be tied, and neither looked worn out; they could have easily continued, but neither seemed inclined to do so. Alphonse couldn’t help but feel disappointment at having missed the chance to see them exchange swords once more.

Even setting aside his personal curiosity, Alphonse knew that as an unrefined martial artist, there were plenty of new lessons to be learned from their battle, which would surely make him a better fighter.

However, oblivious to Alphonse’s regrets, Damian and Reinhardt ended their duel and were now chatting innocently.

“I always say, there’s such a thing as moderation even in post-meal exercise; at this rate, we’ll burn off our dinner too quickly.”

“What’s the problem? If you’re hungry again, just eat more,” Reinhardt replied.

“True, that makes sense, but can we at least take a moment to enjoy being full? Don’t rush out right after eating. If you do, you’ll just want to come out here and do it all over again. What kind of life is this with no room for leisure?”

Damian nodded at Reinhardt’s words, but sensed that it was a reflexive gesture; he looked at him with empty eyes. ‘Just a nodding head again,’ his eyes seemed to say without words.

Despite his flippant remarks, Alphonse understood well that the one saying such things had been constantly busy and lacking leisure himself. During their time in the south, from the moment Alphonse could call out the family name, Damian had been full steam ahead, juggling the duties of a Lesser House, far removed from anything resembling leisure.

Still, Alphonse thought that Damian, saying such things, might have found some escape from the burdens of Lesser House duties here, but momentarily, as he looked at Reinhardt, he changed his mind.

With such a person as his friend, life would probably never become much different from this.

As Damian was chatting with Reinhardt, he suddenly noticed the children outside, his face transforming from one of indifference to one filled with mischief as he approached Elena.

“Everyone came out earlier than I expected. Have you eaten all the macarons over there, Elena?”

“Damian!!! Even I can’t eat that many macarons! Hailey had some too!”

“You did eat them all, huh?”

Given the large spread at the table, there was plenty of dessert, so hearing that they finished it together left Damian momentarily stunned.

Of course, it wasn’t without playful intent, and when Elena puffed her cheeks in protest at Damian’s comment, he playfully smiled and poked her cheek with his finger. The soft cheek indented against his fingertip, looking so soft and gentle. Afterward, Elena retaliated by poking Damian in the side with her finger, but the attack felt entirely harmless.

Alphonse had learned from Maria, the head maid of the mansion, that weight and food can be delicate subjects for women, yet he didn’t find anything strange in the exchange between Damian and Elena. After all, only his brother could get away with such teasing.

Alphonse knew well that such playful banter was only permissible because of the deep bond between Damian and Elena.

Though he had never seen Elena angry, imagining the chaos that would ensue if someone other than Damian dared to jest with her wasn’t hard.

After watching her sweep away the wave of monsters during the previous Hunting Tournament, it was easy to visualize what might happen if she were to truly get mad.

Feeling a warm sensation at the rare display of affection between Damian and Elena, Alphonse quickly found his heart constricting.

Undoubtedly, this bore the mark of envy.

The envy he felt was not towards their characters, but their actions.

Watching Hailey chatting with Elena, Alphonse felt a rush of heat to his face. While he struggled with his own feelings in the presence of the one he liked, the ease with which they interacted somehow felt impressive and enviable.

Of course, Alphonse knew better than anyone that Damian and Elena hadn’t always been like this but that didn’t change the fact that he felt envious.

‘I too…’

He clenched his fist, vowing to himself, but even he recognized how small and weak his fist looked. To be honest, any confession he might make to her would likely be dismissed as childish folly, which made it hard to voice his feelings. In reality, he was just too young.

When he saw Damian again in Ruden, he thought he seemed much taller than before, secretly thrilled and feeling as if he was finally stepping closer to adulthood—something he’d long desired. Yet, the fact remained that there was still a long way to go.

Just earlier, he had foolishly shied away from Hailey, avoiding Lizorote’s gaze. He hadn’t done anything wrong, yet just her presence alone had made him overly cautious.

Both physically and emotionally, he felt far too young. That obvious truth left Alphonse feeling rather suffocated.

“What a shame. I never thought the duel between the two would end so soon. I should have watched it with my own eyes instead.”

Alphonse snapped back to reality at the voice behind him. Lizorote was standing there, looking at him. She seemed to have an idea about the duel’s progression, just like him, as she scanned the remnants on the ground.

Well, considering she was the daughter of a martial family, it might be only natural for her to read the traces left behind by their duel.

Now that his head was clearer, Alphonse realized he had committed a faux pas in their earlier meal. While they may not have exchanged greetings, she had repeatedly signaled him, and he had blatantly ignored her.

Recognizing this clear mistake of his, Alphonse pondered how best to apologize when he noticed a wooden sword soaring through the air towards him.

Given that it had no owner, it was easy to catch. It evidently lacked any force, meaning it was likely tossed towards him intentionally. As he looked around to see who had thrown it, he spotted Lizorote wielding another wooden sword in one hand.

With a smile, she proposed, “Shall we give it a try too?”

 

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