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Count Tristitia and Gilbert faced each other, and Gilbert felt as if two massive boulders were pressing down on his shoulders. Clearly, there was nothing on his shoulders, yet even lifting his arms felt strangely resistant.

“Is this what it means to be from a knight’s family?”

Gilbert took a deep breath. The pressure on his shoulders wasn’t just an illusion. It was a form of skill that knights of a certain level could display, using their mana control to exert an aura.

Perhaps it was a show of strength to dominate the atmosphere, but for Gilbert, it was useless.

Who was he?

None other than the personal disciple of the Empire’s First Sword. Every morning, he sparred with Briana, who was leagues stronger than him. For him, mana control was like the first gate he had to pass to even begin his training.

Those who faced Briana’s mana control often described it as carrying Mount Tai on their backs. Her monstrous mana control exerted immense physical force, almost like a binding spell.

For Gilbert, who had to break through such mana control just to spar, Count Tristitia’s mana control was hardly effective.

“Indeed. You are the Swordmaster’s disciple.”

Count Tristitia let out a small sigh of admiration as Gilbert easily shrugged off his mana control. Though he had heard of Gilbert’s achievements for his age, he hadn’t expected him to break free so effortlessly.

Even his own three sons, who were called geniuses, couldn’t do what Gilbert had done in a single breath. It was a testament to Gilbert’s skill.

What started as a duel to see how much the so-called troublemaker had grown was turning out to be more interesting than expected.

“I’ll begin.”

“Good spirit!”

The Count raised his sword, inviting Gilbert to come at him. Gilbert didn’t hesitate and charged at the Count with his sword drawn.

Clang!

Sparks flew as the duel began.

Gilbert was well aware that he was objectively outmatched by the Count. Though he had begun to surpass human limits with his physical training, the Count had been in the realm of superhumans for decades.

It was only natural that Gilbert, who hadn’t been training with the sword for long, couldn’t overwhelm the Count in swordsmanship.

In the few exchanges they had, Gilbert realized that defeating the Count with swordsmanship alone was currently impossible. The Count effortlessly redirected his strikes and even pulled him in. For a moment, Gilbert considered using sword wrestling but quickly dismissed the idea.

From what he remembered, Count Tristitia’s physical prowess was among the top in tactical combat. The Tristitia Count Family, famous for their knightly lineage, placed utmost importance on physical training. If Gilbert, still inexperienced, tried sword wrestling, he would likely lose his advantage in an instant.

He blocked the Count’s downward strike with an ox guard, using the sword’s crossguard to deflect the blow. As he struggled against the heavy strike, Gilbert gritted his teeth.

It was a good thing he hadn’t tried sword wrestling earlier. The Count’s attempt to hook his sword forced him to grip his sword tightly.

But even then, the Count’s subtle control of strength had already taken the initiative. Gilbert quickly grabbed the middle of his sword with his left hand, using a half-swording technique to pivot around the Count’s right side.

Winter Sword

Frostwind

As he pivoted, his grip naturally shifted. The tip of the blade wasn’t aimed at the Count’s neck, but the hilt, like a hawk targeting its prey.

The foundation of swordsmanship was defense, and its purpose was not to subdue but to kill. To achieve that, aiming for the head was paramount, and the tip of the sword should always point toward the head, no matter the situation.

Even in a spar, it was necessary to treat it like a real battle to avoid developing bad habits.

In that regard, Gilbert was excellent. So much so that Count Tristitia couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s it! That’s what swordsmanship is about!”

To block the strike aimed at his neck, the Count chose to push Gilbert’s left shoulder. Before the blade could reach his neck, he struck Gilbert’s shoulder with his left fist, creating distance and bringing a brief lull in the fight.

“Phew.”

Though the exchange was short, Gilbert already felt exhausted. Physically, he was fine, but the mental fatigue was overwhelming.

As he caught his breath, Gilbert noticed the Count raising his sword above his head. It was the posture for a Posture Falcon, a stance that allowed for both thrusts and slashes.

A thrust? Or a slash?

Neither choice was easy. The Count’s stance showed no openings.

“What are you waiting for? I don’t see the same spirit as before.”

Though the Count taunted him, Gilbert didn’t take the bait. He was already deeply immersed in the duel, focused solely on breaking through the Count’s defense.

The Count, realizing this, didn’t push the taunt further. Taunting a swordsman with such resolve would only be a waste of breath.

After a brief moment, Gilbert made the first move. As his breathing steadied, he thrust his sword half a beat faster, and the Count, as expected, blocked it with a downward strike.

Sparks flew, and the next exchange began. Gilbert, having thrust his sword, stepped into the Count’s range and raised his sword, aiming for the Count’s head. Though the crossguard prevented him from reaching his target, he hooked his arm around the Count’s arm.

He was going for a sword wrestling move.

Having avoided sword wrestling until now, Gilbert had lured the Count into a false sense of security. The Count hadn’t expected Gilbert to attempt it.

But the Count, curious about Gilbert’s skill in sword wrestling, gladly accepted the challenge. Their joints locked, and they struggled to disable each other. Gilbert kept pushing inward, trying to find an advantageous position.

However, as time passed, it was Gilbert who found himself on the defensive. Despite catching the Count off guard, the Count was a veteran knight who had survived countless battles with just a sword.

In contrast, Gilbert, though a soldier in his previous world, mainly piloted fighters. His talent shone brightest when he was piloting something.

Eventually, Gilbert gave up on sword wrestling and created distance. The Count didn’t pursue him, letting him go.

“Not bad.”

“Phew…”

As he caught his breath, Gilbert raised his sword. This would likely be the final clash. The only reason he had lasted this long was because the Count had been holding back.

But as the Count’s aura shifted upon creating distance, it was clear he intended to end the duel.

If that was the case, Gilbert would give it his all.

Gilbert’s hands tightened around the sword’s grip. Though he hadn’t wanted this duel, he had gained much from it. Depending on how he internalized this experience, his swordsmanship could reach a new level.

With his resolve firm, Gilbert swung his sword at Count Tristitia once more—and was defeated.

It was his first loss to anyone other than his master, Briana, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

***

Camilla, who had been silently watching the duel between Gilbert and her father, Count Tristitia, felt a deep sense of regret as the duel ended in Gilbert’s defeat. Few had ever performed so well against her father.

Considering Gilbert was the same age as her, he might even be the only one. Even her three older brothers, who were called the sacred heirs of the family, struggled against their father.

In comparison, Gilbert had fought valiantly, even if her father had held back. What started as a half-joke to get Gilbert to duel had turned into an intense match that left her sweating.

She had wanted him to win.

She knew it was greedy, but she had hoped for Gilbert’s victory.

“Good job, Gilbert!”

That’s why she handed him the towel and water prepared by the maids.

“Hmm…”

Gilbert accepted the towel and water with a somewhat awkward expression. He could feel the strange stares from her father and brothers behind him, but Camilla didn’t care.

The most important thing to her was gushing about how amazing the duel had been.

“You were incredible earlier! I never imagined you’d go for sword wrestling!”

“Really?”

“Of course! Who would believe you tried sword wrestling against my dad? No one who didn’t see it would believe it!”

As she chattered excitedly beside Gilbert, her father approached.

“Ahem.”

“Ah, Dad, you worked hard too.”

Camilla turned her head slightly to acknowledge her father before turning back to Gilbert with sparkling eyes. It was clear who her top priority was at the moment.

“It seems you’re lacking in duels. How about another round?”

“No, thank you. I don’t have the strength to hold a sword anymore.”

Seeing the fiery look in Count Tristitia’s eyes, Gilbert shook his head. If they dueled now, it would cause a significant delay in their return to the Lithuania Territory.

“Oh, Dad. Can I go with Gilbert now?”

“Well…”

“Is it okay?”

“No, Camilla. Listen to your father…”

“Thank you!”

Camilla cut off her father’s words and cheered, thrilled that she could go with Gilbert. Her self-centered nature was on full display.

In an instant, it was decided that she would accompany Gilbert. Gilbert felt a headache coming on, acutely aware of the sharp gazes from the Count and his three sons.

Whether she noticed or not, Camilla continued to smile brightly, leaving Gilbert to sigh deeply.

He had a strong feeling that the journey to the Lithuania Territory with her would be anything but smooth.

 

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