For a brief moment after Knox tied the cloth around his eyes, the courtyard fell into an uneasy silence.
The air drifted quietly across the stone arena, carrying with it the faint rustle of banners hanging from the surrounding pillars. From the balconies above, nobles leaned forward in their seats, unsure whether what they had just witnessed was confidence… or pure arrogance.
Roland Falkner stared at him in disbelief.
The blindfold rested neatly across Knox's eyes, yet his posture remained as relaxed as ever, as though he had merely closed them to take a short nap beneath the afternoon sun.
The corner of Roland's mouth twitched. "…You're mocking me."
Knox tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of amusement lingering in his voice.
"Hmm?"
He lifted one hand casually, waving it once through the air as if dismissing the accusation.
"Not at all." Then he added gently, "I'm simply giving you a chance."
Those words landed harder than any strike.
A ripple of whispers spread across the watching nobles. Some looked stunned, others amused, while a few knights watching from the courtyard's edge began exchanging doubtful glances.
Roland's grip on the greatsword tightened. His pride, already wounded by the fact that none of his attacks had connected, was now being scraped raw by Knox's effortless calm.
"So be it," Roland muttered under his breath. A dark shimmer began to gather around his body.
The air shifted subtly. At first it was barely noticeable—a faint distortion in the flow of mana within the courtyard—but to those with trained senses, the change was unmistakable.
A dense, shadowed aura slowly seeped outward from Roland's body like smoke leaking from unseen cracks.
Jet-Black. The energy of necromancers.
Roland lowered his stance.
The greatsword in his hands suddenly felt lighter, his muscles strengthened by the surge of power flowing through his body.
If brute force could not overwhelm Knox before…
Then he would simply strike faster. Roland's figure burst forward.
The courtyard stone cracked faintly beneath his step as the greatsword cut through the air with terrifying speed, the blade tracing a dark arc toward Knox's side.
And yet—
Despite the cloth covering his eyes, his body shifted with effortless precision. His step carried him just beyond the blade's reach, the greatsword passing so close that the wind from its swing stirred the hem of his uniform.
Another strike followed instantly.
Then another.
Roland pressed forward relentlessly, his attacks now fueled by Jet-Black as the greatsword carved deep lines through the air again and again.
To many of the spectators, the duel suddenly appeared far more dangerous than before. But Knox continued to move exactly as he had earlier.
From the edge of the courtyard, Jane watched the exchange with quiet amusement.
A faint smirk appeared on her lips. "He really doesn't learn."
Princess Molly, standing near the royal seats, blinked in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
Jane's gaze remained fixed on the arena. "If Roland believes using Jet-Black will change the outcome…"
Her voice lowered slightly. "…then he hasn't understood the situation at all."
In the arena, Roland's breathing had already begun to grow uneven.
Every swing of the greatsword carried enormous weight, yet Knox continued slipping past each attack with the same casual grace, as though he were walking through falling leaves rather than avoiding lethal strikes.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
The rhythm of Roland's attacks began to falter.
His shoulders rose and fell with heavier breaths, the dark aura around his body flickering as his control over the Jet-Black slowly weakened.
Knox, meanwhile, had not changed at all.
He simply stood there, blindfolded, gently shifting his footing each time the greatsword approached.
Eventually Roland staggered back a single step, his chest heaving. His arms trembled slightly from the strain.
For several seconds he simply stood there, glaring at Knox as if willing the impossible to happen.
Then Knox slowly raised one hand. With a soft motion, he untied the cloth covering his eyes. His crimson gaze returned to the world.
He looked at Roland with the same relaxed smile he had worn since the duel began.
"Are you done?"
The question sounded almost polite. Roland said nothing.
Knox tilted his head slightly, studying the exhausted knight before him.
Then he spoke again. "For a man…"
The corner of his lips curved upward. "…you're quite quick."
A few nobles blinked in confusion. Others, however, immediately understood the implication.
Jane covered her mouth with one hand. "Heh."
Roland's face turned red with anger. "You—!"
But Knox had already taken a step forward.
"Now…"
His voice softened. "…it's my turn, right?"
And then—
He vanished. For the briefest instant, Knox's figure blurred.
Before Roland could react, Knox had already appeared directly in front of him.
The movement was so sudden that several spectators gasped aloud.
Knox's fist moved. But it did not swing.
Instead, his knuckles simply touched Roland's chest.
The contact looked almost gentle. So gentle, in fact, that many of the watching nobles frowned in confusion.
"…That's it?" someone whispered.
Roland himself looked equally baffled. For a moment, nothing happened.
From the side of the courtyard, Jane chuckled quietly.
Nearby, Gregor Halstein slowly shook his head. "…It's over."
The king frowned slightly.
"What do you—"
Before he could finish the sentence—
The impact arrived.
Roland's entire body suddenly jerked backward as if struck by an invisible hammer. The force exploded through his chest a fraction of a second after Knox's fist had touched him, sending the armored knight flying across the courtyard.
His body slammed into the far stone wall.
The impact cracked the marble surface, dust scattering into the air as Roland's figure embedded itself into the wall before collapsing to the ground in a heap of broken armor and disbelief.
The courtyard fell completely silent. For several seconds, no one spoke.
Knox slowly lowered his hand, flexing his fingers lightly as though he had just finished a minor exercise.
Then he glanced toward Halstein.
"Hmm." His tone remained relaxed. "Did I overdo it a little?~"
For several long seconds after Roland's body struck the wall, the courtyard remained frozen in silence.
Fragments of stone dust slowly drifted down from the cracked marble surface where the knight had collided. Roland slid down along the wall in an awkward heap, his greatsword clattering loudly against the ground beside him as the last echo of the impact faded across the courtyard.
No one moved. No one spoke. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Many of the nobles watching from the balconies stared with wide eyes, their expressions caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion. What they had just witnessed did not resemble the kind of duel they were familiar with. There had been no flashy clash of blades, no dramatic exchange of blows—only a single movement so subtle that most of them had barely noticed it.
Yet the result was undeniable.
Roland Falkner, the rising star of the Fourth Knight Order, now lay crumpled against the wall of the courtyard.
Across the arena, Knox Aznable stood exactly where he had been a moment before, his posture as relaxed as ever, as though the duel had ended before it had even begun.
Near the edge of the courtyard, Gregor Halstein slowly exhaled.
The veteran knight had not moved during the final exchange, but his sharp eyes had followed every motion with absolute clarity. The instant Knox's fist touched Roland's chest, Halstein had already understood what the others had yet to realize.
He stepped forward into the arena. The faint creak of his armor broke the silence as he approached the center of the courtyard, his presence alone enough to draw every gaze toward him.
For a moment he glanced toward Roland, confirming that the young knight was still conscious—though clearly unable to continue.
Then Halstein lifted his voice. "The match is decided."
His tone was steady, calm, and carried easily across the entire courtyard.
After a brief pause, he continued.
"The winner…" His gaze shifted toward Knox. "…is Knox Aznable of Kizen."
The announcement seemed to release the tension that had been gripping the spectators.
For a heartbeat, no one reacted.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sound of a single pair of hands echoed clearly through the courtyard.
Everyone turned.
Standing near the edge of the arena, Jane had already risen from her seat. Her expression remained as calm and aloof as always, yet the faint curve of satisfaction on her lips was unmistakable as she applauded slowly.
Beside her, the assistant professor accompanying the Kizen delegation also stood up, joining the applause with an approving nod.
"Well done," she murmured under her breath.
The sound of their clapping broke the last traces of hesitation among the spectators.
Soon another pair of hands joined.
Then another.
Within moments, the courtyard filled with applause. The nobles watching from the balconies began clapping enthusiastically, their earlier doubt replaced with genuine admiration for the skill they had just witnessed.
Even several of the Dresden knights exchanged impressed glances before reluctantly joining the applause.
At the royal seats, Princess Molly was the first to react. Her eyes were still wide with amazement as she looked toward Knox standing calmly in the arena. "Amazing...." she whispered.
Then, almost instinctively, she began clapping as well.
The King of Dresden followed shortly after, his earlier concern replaced with a thoughtful smile as he applauded the victor of the duel.
However—
Not everyone shared the same enthusiasm.
Seated beside the king, the Queen of Dresden forced her hands together in polite applause. From a distance, her expression appeared composed, even approving.
But anyone standing close enough would have noticed the tension in her jaw. Her teeth were clenched tightly. The elegant smile on her lips did not quite reach her eyes.
The young knight she had carefully arranged to challenge Knox had been defeated so effortlessly that the entire plan had collapsed in front of the court.
Still, she continued clapping. As though nothing had gone wrong at all.
Down in the courtyard, Knox glanced around at the applause with mild curiosity.
"…Hmm." A faint, sheepish smile appeared on his face. "Well," he muttered softly, "that escalated quickly."
Gregor Halstein watched Knox for a moment after the applause slowly faded across the courtyard.
The veteran knight then stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing softly against the stone floor as he approached the young swordsman from Kizen. From up close, his sharp eyes studied Knox carefully, as though trying to measure something deeper than mere skill.
Finally, a faint smile appeared beneath his mustache.
"That was impressive," Halstein said calmly. "Your control over distance and timing… I have rarely seen such precision."
Knox scratched the back of his neck slightly, his usual relaxed smile returning as if the compliment meant little to him.
"Ah, thank you," he replied lightly. "Coming from the Royal Knight Captain of Dresden, that sounds like quite a praise."
Halstein chuckled quietly. However, Knox's smile did not fade.
Instead, his crimson eyes wandered briefly toward the arena floor before he spoke again.
"But…"
His tone remained casual. "I'm still not satisfied at all~."
For a split second—
The entire courtyard froze.
Halstein blinked. Several nobles exchanged confused glances. Even some of the knights standing nearby stiffened slightly.
Only one person reacted differently.
Jane sighed softly and shook her head.
"…Sighed, color me surprised."
Princess Molly turned toward her immediately.
"What does Knox mean?"
Jane's gaze returned to the arena, her expression as calm as ever.
"Just like he said."
She folded her arms. "He's not satisfied at all."
Then she added quietly, "Which is perfectly normal."
Molly blinked. "…Normal?"
Jane nodded slightly.
"Considering his opponent was only…"
She paused briefly. "…at that level."
Across the arena, Halstein looked back at Knox again, this time with a slightly more curious expression.
"You mean to say," the veteran knight asked slowly, "you wish to continue sparring?"
Knox tilted his head slightly, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"Of course."
A faint grin appeared on his face. "I mean, it's not every day I get to spar with Dresden's Royal Knights, right~?"
The way he said it sounded almost innocent. Yet the subtle sarcasm hiding beneath the words did not escape several of the knights standing nearby.
Halstein glanced toward the royal seats.
The King of Dresden had clearly heard everything. For a moment, the king remained silent before suddenly laughing.
"Hahaha!" His voice echoed across the courtyard.
"Well said!"
He leaned forward slightly in his seat. "It is not every day our knights have the chance to spar with Kizen's number one, after all!"
At that moment—
The Queen's expression darkened. Her fingers tightened slightly against the armrest of her chair.
Something about the direction of this situation made a faint sense of unease creep into her mind. Almost like a bad premonition.
Meanwhile, down in the courtyard, several knights from the Fourth Knight Order began stepping forward one by one.
The pride of their order had just been defeated. And none of them were willing to let the matter end so easily.
One knight stepped into the arena.
Then another.
The air in the courtyard grew tense once again.
Knox glanced at them and chuckled softly.
"Well…"
He reached behind him.
From thin air—
A long blade appeared in his hand. An odachi. The weapon's curved edge gleamed faintly beneath the winter sunlight as Knox slowly lowered it to his side.
Across the arena, the next knight tightened his grip on his weapon.
Knox rolled his shoulders slightly, then exhaled.
His stance shifted. Almost like a leaf drifting in autumn wind.
Then he spoke quietly.
"Eight Leaves One Blade…"
The courtyard fell silent again.
"…Fourth Form."
Knox's body suddenly moved.
"Autumn Leaf."
For a moment—
No one understood what had happened.
Knox's figure blurred forward like a passing breeze, the movement so precise and swift that it barely disturbed the air itself.
His blade flashed once. A single clean arc.
And then—
He had already passed the knight. Standing behind him.
The odachi slowly lowered to Knox's side.
A second later—
The knight's weapon split cleanly in half. The broken steel clattered onto the stone floor.
And the knight himself froze in place, a thin line of torn cloth appearing across the chest of his armor.
The courtyard went silent once more.
The knight himself staggered backward before dropping to one knee, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Knox did not even turn around.
He simply continued walking a few steps before stopping and resting the odachi over his shoulder.
"Next?" he asked lightly.
A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the watching crowd.
Another knight stepped forward.
This one moved far more cautiously than the last. Clearly, the previous exchange had shaken the confidence of the Fourth Order.
Still, he raised his blade.
Knox exhaled softly. Then he spoke again, his voice calm but loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear.
"Eight Leaves One Blade, Second Form — Gale."
The air seemed to tremble. In the next instant Knox burst forward like a sudden gust of wind. His odachi moved so quickly that the blade became little more than a silver blur.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
The rapid strikes flowed together like a violent storm of steel, each movement seamlessly blending into the next.
The knight attempted to defend himself, but the difference in speed was overwhelming. Within seconds his guard collapsed.
His sword was knocked from his hands, spinning across the courtyard before landing several meters away. The knight stumbled backward and fell to the ground.
Knox stopped.
The courtyard fell silent again. Even the nobles watching from the balconies had stopped whispering. The realization slowly spread through the crowd.
This was not a duel anymore.
It was a demonstration.
A third knight stepped forward.
This time the man attacked immediately, hoping to catch Knox before he could even finish announcing his technique.
But Knox simply raised his blade slightly.
"Eight Leaves One Blade, First Form — Helix."
His body twisted forward. The odachi spun with him, drawing a spiraling arc of steel that carved through the air like a miniature storm.
The knight's attack shattered instantly.
His sword was knocked aside as the force of the spinning strike sent him stumbling several steps backward before he collapsed onto the stone floor.
For a moment—
No one from the Fourth Knight Order moved.
Across the courtyard, Gregor Halstein folded his arms slowly, his sharp eyes observing Knox with growing interest.
From the royal seats, Princess Molly stared at the arena in stunned silence.
"…How many techniques does he even have?"
Beside her, the King of Dresden could only chuckle in disbelief. But the Queen said nothing. Her expression had grown noticeably darker.
Down in the courtyard, Knox slowly rested the odachi against his shoulder again and looked toward the line of knights waiting at the edge of the arena.
The faint smile on his lips returned.
"Well?" he said casually.
"Is that all?"