Chapter 10: Guardian Knight – (4)

“You picked it up? Seriously?”

This sword—this ridiculously expensive-looking sword? A masterpiece that was probably forged by the Empire’s top blacksmiths pouring their heart and soul into it? You’re telling me you just picked it up like a random coin on the street?

“...Y-Yes.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, like she wanted to crawl into a mouse hole and disappear.

It seemed even Millia understood just how absurd her claim sounded. She lowered her head and fidgeted with her fingers, unable to meet my gaze.

“Well... sure. Let’s go with that.”

At my response, Millia flinched slightly.

Still. In the end, she brought it for my sake, didn’t she?

The fact that someone went out of their way to do something like this for someone like Freud of all people… it kind of made my chest tighten up a little.

“Thanks. That really takes a load off my mind.”

“Ahem. It’s nothing, really.”

I carefully wrapped the sword in its crimson cloth again and placed it by my side. Whether she found it or not didn’t matter—the important part was that I had a sword now. Without Millia, I would’ve been stuck using that ominous curved blade I took from Slane.

I glanced back at Millia. She jerked like a student caught cheating on a test when our eyes met.

Why is she just hanging around here like this? Does she have something else to say?

“Is something bothering you?”

Wait—I’m probably what’s bothering her. I gave a wry smile at the thought.

“N-No, not at all.”

“O-Okay…”

And then, awkward silence.

Eventually, it was Millia who surrendered first.

“Then, I’ll take my leave now.”

She took a few quick steps backward, gave me a small nod, and turned on her heel. With brisk steps, she started walking toward the royal guards’ quarters.

“Hey, Millia.”

I called out to stop her.

She stiffened up like a wooden doll and slowly turned her head back.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

As I spoke first, a bit of color returned to Millia’s face. She looked almost hopeful—like she’d been waiting for me to start the conversation.

“Yes! Please, ask me anything!”

I hesitated for a moment before bringing it up.

“How does one learn spirit arts?”

Even if my body had dramatically strengthened due to the synchronization with Freud, it wasn’t like I had unlocked one hundred percent of his abilities. At best, I was now at the top of what you’d call “normal people,” but I wasn’t strong enough to stand among the real powerhouses.

I needed something—a trick to bridge that gap.

One of the options I’d considered was spirit arts. It didn’t require me to use my own mana, so I wouldn’t have to worry about mana control. Plus, it was incredibly powerful.

The only problem was whether I might end up corrupted like Lautrec someday. But that was a problem for future me.

“Hmm.”

But Millia tilted her head.

“Didn’t you say before, Sir Freud, that ‘Spirit arts are lowly and vulgar sorcery used only by third-rate mages who aren’t confident in their own mana’?”

“……”

“You said it right in front of Lord Lautrec.”

Goddamn it, Freud, you bastard.

I searched my brain for something—anything—to say, but Millia’s deadpan delivery left me completely speechless.

“More importantly, spirit arts require high elemental affinity. Since that’s something you’re born with, I don’t think either of us would be very suited for it, Sir Freud. If our affinity had been high to begin with, a spirit would’ve reached out to us first.”

“I see.”

From what she was saying, spirit arts might be off the table.

Of course, I’d considered a few other possibilities too. But they all assumed I could handle mana decently.

And as someone who’d been a modern-day human just a little while ago, using mana skillfully felt about as easy as writing my name with a tail I suddenly grew overnight.

Every evening, I’d been training by swinging at a scarecrow and trying to channel mana, but my progress was abysmal. I finally understood what “grasping at clouds” meant.

“Well, then another question. Where can I get spellstones?”

If there was one thing that seemed promising, it was spellstones.

In Raising the Empress, spellstones were incredibly handy items. Even if you didn’t know the first thing about mana, you could just throw one and use magic. And if the stone was high-grade, it could unleash magic comparable to grand spells.

The catch was that they were insanely expensive—and single-use. But they were always worth the investment.

Millia thought for a moment before replying.

“If it’s spellstones, I think there’s a craftsman who specializes in them in the capital.”

“Oh? Where exactly?”

“Well… I think their workshop was in the blast zone from the last terrorist attack.”

“……”

“If you’re talking about a high-level mage, they might be able to make spellstones, but unless they’re at least Tower Master level, it’d be difficult. And the cost would be astronomical. As for the royal court’s archmage, he’s been swamped reinforcing the palace’s magical security, so I doubt he has any time to spare.”

“…Haaah.”

Nothing ever goes smoothly, does it?

I sighed internally, grumbling in my mind, when Millia cautiously asked,

“Um… if I may ask, why are you asking about things like that?”

Millia asked with an unusually serious expression.

What could I say that would make her understand?

After a brief moment of thought, I replied.

“…I just figured… I should try something. For Her Highness’ safety, if nothing else.”

I gave a bitter smile.

What flashed through my mind was the scene during the founding day incident—how I had been so blinded by the enemy before me that I’d failed to protect Lincia.

If Lautrec hadn’t been there, she probably would’ve been skewered by arrows. Game over.

“I realized something that day. No matter how many enemies I cut down, there’s a limit. From now on, it’s not about cutting, it’s about protecting. That’s what being a Guardian Knight means.”

“Protecting is more important… A Guardian Knight…”

Millia echoed my words, her eyes suddenly lighting up, as if something had clicked deep inside.

It took her a moment before she spoke again.

“…I see now. I never truly understood the ideals you held, Sir Freud.”

“Huh?”

“Even during the founding day massacre, you protected Her Highness more like a true Guardian Knight than anyone else. But I… I assumed you had some ulterior motive.”

Millia brought a hand to her chest and bowed deeply at the waist.

“That was my mistake. My immaturity. I sincerely apologize.”

Startled, I stood up.

“Whoa, no—there’s no need to apologize like that.”

But Millia cut me off and raised her head.

“I’d like to ask a favor then.”

Her eyes blazed—like cold fire.

Why cold fire?

Because there was a chilling intensity behind them that made my skin crawl.

“Time has passed, and I’ve grown. I no longer think of myself as a rookie.”

She unsheathed her sword.

“Please, allow me to duel you again—for training.”

…Here we go again. I never said this was a training duel.

****

Millia Liantour stood at one end of the training grounds, taking a deep breath.

Air circulated through her lungs, and every muscle in her body tightened in anticipation.

Across from her stood a knight with ash-gray hair—Freud—looking thoroughly unmotivated.

Both of them held wooden swords.

They’d originally planned to use real blades, but Freud had adamantly refused.

Even when Millia insisted that realistic training was the foundation of real victory, he wouldn’t budge.

Millia didn’t really get it, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Real sword or not—this was the moment she’d waited for: another chance to cross swords with Freud.

To her, this duel could be an act of revenge for that day, or a farewell to the weaker self she’d once been.

Either way, she welcomed it.

She spun the wooden sword, loosening her wrist.

“Hey, Millia?”

Freud started talking while strapping on some protective gear.

“Are you sure about this? Your leg’s still not fully healed.”

“I’m fine. I can still move.”

He was one to talk. Even while recovering from serious injuries, Freud continued his daily training.

Millia saw that and decided she needed to match that level of dedication.

“Do you remember?”

She brought up a memory, letting the words flow.

“Half a year ago, right here… I suffered a humiliating defeat at your hands.”

It was supposed to be a joyful day—her first day as a newly appointed Holy Knight.

Everyone congratulated her. She felt hopeful, full of determination.

Then Freud came to her quarters, dragged her outside, and challenged her to a duel out of nowhere.

He called it a “welcome ritual.”

She’d refused at first.

She couldn’t accept fighting like that—it wasn’t even proper training.

“And then you said this: ‘You don’t even have skill, and you got this title just because of your noble family’s name. What a disgrace of a knight.’”

“…Yeah. I was a real bastard. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Hearing that, Millia had burst into flames of anger and took the fight head-on.

But she was utterly crushed.

Beaten black and blue.

She couldn’t even graze him—not a single strand of his hair.

And when it was over, Freud had sneered.

“See? I was right.”

She couldn’t argue.

She had thought too highly of herself. Thought she was more skilled than she was.

Freud had ripped away that illusion.

She realized then—she was just a frog in a well.

Despite both bearing the title of Guardian Knight, the gap between them was enormous.

She had to face her shortcomings.

Since that day, Millia had trained harder than anyone else to overcome that evaluation.

****

“That’s why I see this duel as a trial,” she said firmly.

She would overcome the enormous hurdle named Freud Escoval.

She would stand as his equal, shoulder to shoulder, and protect the Empire from its crises.

She would prove she was a true Guardian Knight.

Millia let out a sharp breath and lowered her body into a combat stance, wooden blade leveled forward.

She would go all out.

Anything less, and she knew she couldn’t win.

“Here I come.”

She announced her move—but Freud still hadn’t even raised his sword properly.

‘You’re seriously underestimating me.’

Millia’s expression twisted.

Fine. That just meant she needed to show him.

Without a doubt.

She tensed her calves.

A power duel would be suicide. Without Oswald around, Freud was the physically strongest of the Guardian Knights.

But a long duel was also out of the question.

In stamina, endurance—in everything—Millia was at a disadvantage.

Her leg wasn’t even fully healed.

The one thing going in her favor?

This was just training.

Neither of them would be using mana.

Considering Freud’s mana was in another league, that was a blessing.

So she’d finish this in a single exchange.

She would go all in—open with the strongest move she had.

That was her only shot.

She analyzed Freud’s stance.

He was wide open—completely off guard.

And that would be his downfall.

“Hmph.”

The moment the thought ended, Millia launched forward with a sharp stomp.

Before the wind could even react, she was already in front of Freud.

The one thing Millia had over him—

Speed.

Shff—

She swung her wooden sword.

The strike was straightforward, but the speed rivaled mana-enhanced attacks. The product of relentless training.

As Freud raised his sword to block, she suddenly pulled back.

Then lunged again—with explosive force, so fast her veins felt like they might burst.

Of course, she didn’t expect to deal real damage.

But by twisting her pattern, she could throw Freud’s defense into chaos.

She’d aim straight for the gap it created.

With that thought, Millia smiled.

CRACK.

A thunderous sound rang out as her wooden sword smacked Freud square in the forehead.

“GAAAH!”

He couldn’t even withstand the blow—his body was flung backward like a ragdoll, slamming into the far corner of the training ground.

Dust flew everywhere.

Millia remained frozen in the same stance, arm extended from the strike.

“…Huh?”

That… wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was definitely supposed to stop before hitting him…

-- The End OF The Chapter --

 

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