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The Imperial Palace in the capital of the Empire, Ruden, is renowned for its immense size.

Some people, particularly her father and sibling, Orcus, dislike it, claiming it is unnecessarily large, but Noel loves it. The gigantic palace, far exceeding her needs, felt like an enormous playground, making her heart swell with joy.

“Yay!!!”

“Your Highness!!! It’s dangerous to run around like that!!”

So, in her childhood, simply racing through the palace satisfied her overflowing adventurous spirit.

Like any other child, everything around her appeared vast, but even without that, the palace was an extensive and wondrous place. Just exploring and dashing about was enough to satisfy her energy.

When Noel turned ten, the Emperor took away her freedom. Specifically, he instructed her to adhere to the decorum befitting royalty and prohibited her from running freely in the castle.

He could not raise the sole princess of the Empire to be careless in her words and actions. It would be more accurate to say that children from other noble families began their training much earlier, while the Emperor allowed Noel to roam free until now.

No matter the reason, the fact remained that the Emperor had stripped Noel of her freedom. However, Noel complied with the Emperor’s wishes without much rebellion.

Being bright and lively did not equate to being simply a naïve child, so she understood the Emperor’s intentions well.

Ever since the Emperor said that, she no longer had the joy of running through the castle with a smile.

As a result, a source of joy for the court attendants, watching the princess frolic through the palace, vanished, but the biggest victim was Noel herself. It was akin to her having to suddenly stop playing the games she enjoyed.

Now, it was time to find new playthings.

The palace was vast. However, her options were limited.

She had no interest in embroidery or refreshments that the maids kept wanting to point out. The same went for books. She knew that gaining knowledge through reading was necessary study, but if asked whether she found it interesting or enjoyable, she would answer with a resounding no.

In that same year, so many things happened in the palace.

First and foremost, the biggest change for Noel was no longer being able to run freely in the palace.

Orcus participated in central politics with the Emperor that year. Noel had the same qualifications, so at first, she joined him in observing, but she found herself utterly uninterested in the noisy arguments among the nobles.

Only Orcus listened to the unpleasant noise, wearing a faint smile. Seeing him like that assured Noel that it wasn’t for her. They were opposites. She understood well that what Orcus found interesting did not suit her.

The Emperor made no particular comments to Orcus or Noel. Aside from cautioning Noel to act carefully, he did not impose great restrictions on their movements.

Therefore, having exhausted all the things she could do within the palace, Noel went outside.

Once outside, dazzled by the view of the gardens, she spent a day tending to flowers alongside the gardener. It was certainly more fun than what she did before, but it didn’t spark a desire to keep doing it.

A good start.

Still, she saw a glimmer of hope compared to her tiring search within the palace. Who would have thought that among all the things she could do in that vast castle, something as simple as running around would be the most fun?

Playing with flowers was nice, but Noel wanted to do something more active. Something akin to racing around freely in the palace.

As she thought deeper, she soon found herself wandering into a place she had never been before. How ironic it was for a princess living in the palace to discover an unknown area. But with the palace being that spacious, it was unavoidable.

“Your Highness. Perhaps it’s time to return. You’ve strayed too far from the main palace.”

“What’s the problem with that? No matter how far I go from the main palace, we’re all still part of the same imperial palace.”

“That’s…”

The maid, who had been attending to her, clearly appeared flustered, as though she wished to prevent Noel from going further.

People often find themselves wanting to do what they are told not to do even more. With a bright smile typical of her, Noel ignored the maid’s words and began to walk forward.

As she took a few more steps, a sound reached her ears. It was the sound of something solid clashing. The maid grimaced at the noise as if she detested the irritating sound, but to Noel, the chaotic metallic noise felt like a beautiful melody.

Eventually, Noel discovered the source of the sound. Before her eyes were the palace knights practicing sword fighting.

Though they were familiar faces, always guarding the Emperor, it was her first time seeing them draw and swing their swords like that. At Noel’s sudden appearance, the knights, surprised, paused and saluted her.

“Your Highness?”

Noel did not respond to their salute or the maid’s bewildered question. Silently, she walked toward the training grounds. The knights could only stay rooted in place, unable to utter a word as she approached them.

Noel stood before the closest knight.

Her gaze wasn’t on the knight himself; it was directed at the sword he had laid on the ground. As Noel picked up the sword, it felt like time stood still for everyone present. Although it was not sharpened, it was still a sword, and it posed no issue for a young girl to wield.

It was crafted with the expectation that a superhuman knight would handle it. For a ten-year-old girl to lift a heavy iron sword that was solid and dense was no small feat. And that was what they feared the most. If Noel were to stumble while wielding the sword, the risk of her getting hurt was extremely high.

As Noel’s hand touched the sword, the knight closest to her immediately attempted to intervene. The maid screamed and rushed toward her, joined by everyone else present as they all rushed to Noel.

But it was only for a moment. All of them running toward Noel halted in place with blank expressions.

Woom—

The sword in Noel’s hand quivered slightly, making a sound. A faint halo enveloped the blade.

Noel lifted the sword effortlessly. With the sword in hand, she was surrounded by a light similar to that of the sword. The knights present knew better than anyone what that light signified.

When she swung the sword, a small breeze stirred alongside its arc.

Though it was still too weak to cut anything, everyone had no doubt it would become a gale that could shred anything in front of her.

After one swing, Noel returned the sword to the ground. Perhaps because she had finally found something to do, she laughed loudly with joy, just as she did when running through the palace.

This marked the memory of Noel Estellia holding a sword for the first time.

*

Gulp.

Noel swallowed dryly, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation she felt for the first time.

Her reason clearly understood what she was feeling, but her heart did not. It was like the first time she experienced an invasion by a pathogen—she had no resilience to the intent to kill.

With such exceptional skill in wielding a weapon that harms people, why was she so vulnerable to the idea of taking life? Naturally, she knew the answer better than anyone else. Gathering herself, she opened her eyes to gaze upon the ongoing duel in the training grounds.

There were still two combatants exchanging blows, emanating an ominous air. Their dance of death gripped the observer in a chill that felt as if one’s own head would roll just from watching.

Duels are supposed to take place without intending to harm each other, yet those two seemed to think otherwise. As time passed, their clashes only grew fiercer, yet their expressions remained calm and undisturbed, much like when she first picked up a sword.

Although a similar atmosphere had filled previous duels among mid-level knights, compared to the one unfolding now, that felt like mere child’s play.

Sparks flew with each clash of swords. Their blades intertwined, and for a moment, both swords grazed each other’s bodies. Damian’s sword nicked the opponent’s collar while the sword of the knight named Gwen brushed against his right shoulder. Despite the dueling swords being blunt, they somehow could not dull the sharpness of either fighter’s technique.

Even without using aura, the swords of those two already resembled real blades.

It wasn’t unusual to shout for an immediate halt to the duel, yet none of the attendees dared voice such a thing. Alphonse, who sat beside Noel, observed the duel with the expression of someone far older than his years, as if he were already accustomed to this intensity.

Noel, too, had no intention of calling for an end. Watching their duel felt like the worries she’d been holding inside were unburdened, so she silently followed their movements with her eyes. To keep up with the increasing speed of their actions with each clash, she needed to clear her mind, focusing solely on the trajectories of their swords.

With each swing Damian made, the sunlight reflected on his blade, scattering it across the world. His sword seemed to wield light itself. Although he wasn’t using aura, it shimmered with brilliance, and beams of sunlight trailed behind each of his sword paths.

Was he using magic?

Though she had seen impossible feats through aura, witnessing such skill purely through technique felt new. Even when she clashed with the lesser branch of Cromel, Reinhardt Cromel, a boy known as a sword genius, she had never felt such admiration.

The lesser branch of Cromel. Reinhardt’s sword danced like the sky itself—ever-changing and perplexing. Yet, it remained within the realm of technique; she could discern its meaning and how to respond. However, what unfolded before her now felt like an entirely different world.

It was merely an ordinary sword, devoid of any aura, yet the thought of facing it while embedding both divinity and aura made her feel it would inevitably get absorbed. In her imagination, she could already see her sword shattering after a single exchange.

It wasn’t even her turn yet, but she felt a sense of defeat.

However, Noel did not deny that feeling. Facing off against Damian could very well end in such a way. It would be foolish to ignore the clear difference in skill, so this time, she shifted her mindset and surveyed the training grounds.

Rather than thinking of victory, she reflected on how to accept that sword purely.

Light that lingered with the blade swayed like waves. It appeared as if reflections were swinging all around her. Yet Gwen did not flinch. Firmly, he stood his ground, planting his feet and twisting his body, working alongside his sword. He didn’t need to differentiate what was real or an illusion. When Damian’s sword approached, he loosened his stance and swiftly struck down everything before him.

It was a remarkably domineering sword strike. The wind he generated reached beyond the training grounds.

The grail of light that had swayed in the wind vanished. However, Gwen’s sword had not severed the one in Damian’s hand. He spun in air, catching the wind that Gwen had created, adding it to his sword. Damian’s blade grazed Gwen’s, slipping past him. Before long, Gwen’s trajectory had transformed into Damian’s.

Gwen retrieving his sword happened seconds too late; Damian’s sword reached his neck first.

With not a hint of hesitation, the blade extended forward, striking true. A line of blood followed its path as a head rolled from the shoulders, bathing the ground in crimson.

A person had died. During a duel, no less. However, amid all this, no screams nor voices erupted in the surroundings. It was as if a strange silence filled her ears. In that freshly bloodied world, suddenly a beam of light caught her attention.

A brilliant glow radiated from the white blade in Damian’s hand, shimmering brightly against the sunlight.

Only then did Noel realize that it had all been an illusion.

The victor of the duel was Damian. Unlike what Noel perceived, Gwen’s head remained attached to his body, and Damian’s sword had halted mere moments before it touched him. After the defeated Gwen saluted Damian, he turned back to his original position, and Damian’s gaze shifted toward Noel.

His sharp eyes, reminiscent of a legendary dragon, seemed to pierce through her soul. Noel did not shy away from Damian’s penetrating gaze. Instead, with a calm smile on her face, she walked toward him, gripping the sword she had set aside.

Perhaps due to witnessing the duel earlier, Noel’s heart raced furiously in her chest.

The sword that carried the essence of death was terrifying. She had never contemplated death before, yet here it was, revealing to her how one could perish, even showing her an illusion of it. If she claimed she did not feel fear in the face of that, it would be a lie. But the very act of walking toward Damian, who imparted such fear, felt light and exhilarating.

How long this feeling would last depended on how Damian would act, yet Noel felt a spark of excitement for that as well.

Standing before Damian with sword in hand, Noel declared, “Now it’s my turn!”

“…..Indeed.”

At Noel’s spirited proclamation, Damian seemed to have something to say to her, but he refrained from voicing it. He offered a gentle smile in response to her sparkling eyes, assuming a stance.

Upon seeing that smile, Noel couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had known from the start what thoughts lay behind her request to duel. Was that why? Locking eyes with him, she felt like he could read her mind even now.

If so, it was all the more favorable.

As she found her stance and her breathing steadied, the smile faded from Damian’s face, replaced by a cold, emotionless expression reminiscent of moments before the duel began with Gwen.

Faced directly with the intent to kill emanating from him was entirely different from observing it from a distance. Every hair on her body stood at attention. Cold sweat beaded from her palms, making her fear she might drop the sword at any moment, yet she felt no terror. Rather, she had anticipated this; smiling, she swung her sword.

Clang-!

A sound Noel had never heard before pierced her ears.

It was strikingly distant from the clear sounds she produced when she swung her sword before. It resembled something shattering. Upon inspecting her blade, she discovered it had indeed broken. The long blade was now in half, looking somewhat pathetic.

The culprit that shattered Noel’s sword stood right in front of her.

Although his sword was blunted at the tip, should he swing it, she had no doubt it would unfold as she had envisioned in her mind. Once more, Noel gazed into Damian’s eyes. Just like at the beginning of the duel, it was still difficult to find any emotion in his gaze. The sight of him looking at her with such coldness had her imagining he would plunge that blade straight into her neck without a second thought.

Unlike the consistent hesitation she saw in those she had faced before, the knight in front of her was simply a singular opponent determined to win. With this realization, Noel laughed softly and placed her broken sword on the ground.

“Hehe… I lost!”

At her words, emotion sparked in Damian’s eyes again, and he responded with a smile, “Well fought.”

This brief reply from Damian resonated deeply within Noel, far more than any reply she had previously received from any knight.

 

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