The tension flickered in the air as the Knights and students stared at one another, while the elf and Mel stood back, watching what would unfold.
As the Knight with the messy hair struggled to clear the ice, the less experienced Knight sprinted toward the Heiress.
Through the Cult's influence, he had managed to sneak into the ranks of the Royal Knights after his exile in the North.
Yet his grudge remained, clouding his judgment as he swung at the Heiress, driven by pure irrationality.
But before the blade could reach her, the Heiress caught the sword between her fingertips.
Rosana clicked her tongue. "It's humiliating that I've to waste my cleaning garbage."
Letting go of her waraxe, she wove a glove onto her hand with
The helmet cracked from the impact, sending the Knight airborne before he crashed onto the grasslands in a grunting heap.
"I commend that stubbornness, at the very least."
