“Thank you, Sir Gilbert. Though I can’t say that I expected to hear that at a time like this,” said Evans, commander of the Imperial Knights, as he gave a faint, bitter smile at the remark.

Gilbert wore a similar expression. There had never been enmity between the two—only mutual respect. Once, they had been comrades, senior and junior, proud knights of the same banner. Even now, facing each other as enemies, neither found it easy to raise his blade.

Perhaps that was why Evans’s gaze drifted past Gilbert’s shoulder, to the young man behind him.

“It’s been a long time, Your Highness,” he said flatly. “I trust you’ve been well?”

Lyon’s lips curled into a cold smirk as he replied, “Bold of you to speak to me without even raising your visor, Sir Evans.”

“My apologies, Your Highness. I lack the courage to expose my guard while standing before so many strong foes.”

“A poor excuse for a knight who once swore fealty to the royal blood.”

The rebuke, which should have made him bow his head in shame, only drew a dry laugh. Evans’s eyes gleamed with derision, utterly devoid of loyalty or respect.

“Hah. Royal blood, is it?” he snarked. “Do you truly believe those words, Your Highness? You must have seen the state of the capital on your way here. Clyde is finished. Our loyalty for the emperor, the people we were sworn to protect—they’ve all been swallowed by the abyss.”

“How insolent, Sir Evans!” Gilbert scolded.

“You should wake up, Sir Gilbert! It’s far too late! If you knew what the Mad Emperor has become...”

The fury that had flared in Evans’s eyes suddenly faded, replaced by a hollow stillness. It wasn’t his own will. It was as if someone else had seized control.

He fell silent, placed a hand on his sword, and spoke evenly.

“I’ve said enough. Even if you manage to pass through here, you’ll end up... Never mind. Ignorance might be the kinder fate.”

“You would raise your sword against His Highness?!” Gilbert barked, but Evans only shook his head slowly.

“If you insist on such words, then allow me to show my own form of loyalty, Your Highness.”

“What?” Lyon said.

“Withdraw to the rear with Sir Gilbert. If you refrain from entering the fight, we shall leave you both untouched. Whichever side wins, pledge yourselves to them afterward. It seems the most reasonable course.”

“How dare you...!”

Lyon’s anger rose, but he caught himself. The insult stung, yet he understood the truth in Evans’s words. His own strength was negligible. His value lay in his blood. The royal lineage was the key to breaching the White Peak Palace’s defenses.

If he died, the infiltration team—who had entered as his “guests”—would immediately be targeted by the palace’s security wards. And if the Imperial Knights focused their assault on him first, his chances of survival were near zero. Gilbert was in no condition to fight either.

Still... to follow their terms like this...!

Even knowing it was practical, the thought sickened him.

Gilbert, ever loyal, hesitated as well, unable to accept such a shameful offer. But before either could answer—

“Well, I don’t mind,” a voice drawled. “Let’s do as he says.”

“Sir Cedric?”

Cedric stepped forward, drawing his sword. The blade of Dainslife hummed with a sinister resonance, forcing even Evans to take a wary half-step back. His instincts screamed danger as though he were no longer facing a man, but the sword itself.

“Pride’s important and all,” Cedric said, his grin razor-sharp, “but this isn’t the time to be stubborn. Go on. Stay out of the way with the old man.”

One by one, the other Masters stepped forward as well. Like Lyon, they knew it was better to keep the prince and the wounded knight away from the battle entirely.

As the five Masters advanced, the Imperial Knights raised their weapons in unison.

The air quivered with pressure as two overwhelming forces collided. The sheer weight was nothing like the clash with the Imperial Guards earlier.

This is dangerous, Leon realized instantly.

The Imperial Guards had been troublesome at best, but each of these men radiated the weight of a true threat. Every single knight here could contend with a Master, and there were over a hundred of them.

And at their forefront was Evans, who had reached the realm of Master. And it wasn’t just the title—his strength was several times that of an ordinary Master.

“Pathetic,” Cedric scoffed, unbothered by the oppressive power pressing against him. “Does it feel good, flaunting strength you borrowed from others? Step outside this palace, and you’ll shrivel up like a punctured pufferfish.”

Evans snapped back, “That is quite crude for a taunt. I take it you’re of common birth?”

“At least I’m not a lunatic’s dog,” Cedric shot back. “Funny to hear a so-called Swordmaster talk about birth, when a real one can fully build his own name with his blade alone.”

“Your lack of an answer says enough. A commoner indeed.”

Evans’ tone was indifferent, but his face inevitably twisted when Cedric mocked his servitude to the Mad Emperor. After all, Nex was the same man who had joined hands with the Evil Order and turned Calelum into a graveyard.

Evans, too, had once loved this nation. Whatever loyalty he now professed, it was no longer his own but a chain that bound him, forged by an oath he could not break.

And then, Cedric said the words that snapped that final thread.

“Guess it can’t be helped. You’re a dog who’s lived his whole life on scraps. Your master can kick him all he wants, but just call your name and you’ll still wag your tail. That’s just perfect, isn’t it?”

“You...”

It happened in an instant. Evans stepped forward, and Cedric, sensing it before it came, moved at the same time.

Two steps. That was all it took for the distance between them to vanish.

Their blades met midair, faster than sound itself. The clash of two Swordmasters shook the air as Cedric’s grey-blue Aura bit into Evans’ crimson one like two wild beasts tearing at each other.

The explosion of force served as a signal flare. The entire Imperial Knight Order surged forward like a tidal wave, charging the remaining four Masters. However, it wasn’t to assist their commander. Their goal was to block any interference from stepping into that duel between two monsters.

Leon and Elahan, who were at the forefront of the infiltration team, were met with twenty imperial knights. Forehead, throat, heart, gut—blades and spears thrust for all four vital points at once, their weapons cloaked in thick layers of Aura Fire.

“Sun Sword, Crimson Lotus, First Form: Prominence.”

Leon’s sword erupted into a golden pillar of fire. Rather than parry four weapons, it was faster to sweep away their wielders. The blazing sword light scorched forward, forcing the knights to halt. That hesitation was exactly what Leon had wanted.

“Grand Chariot.”

A half-hearted attack would do nothing against full plate armor reinforced with Aura Fire. If he wanted results, he had to strike with enough force to crush their Aura itself.

“Heavenly Jade, Second Form: Merak.”

The sword light streaked horizontally like a golden horizon. The radiant slash cleaved through the knights’ waists, armor and steel splitting apart as easily as flesh.

The four who had charged first and two from the second rank fell in halves before they even realized what had happened.

“Only six...” Leon muttered.

If it were the guards from earlier, he could have cut down six times that number. The difference in quality was night and day. Leon sliced the heads from the fallen knights and pressed forward.

The other Masters seemed to be having a similar experience.

Elahan’s Holy Iron Breaker came crashing down, smashing through sword, helm, and ribcage, driving the knight’s body deep into the ground. The man didn’t even twitch afterward. His regeneration couldn’t begin before death claimed him.

After delivering a single strike that was absolute and fatal, Elahan drew in a rough breath. Even after killing one, her armor was marred with deep scratches.

Unlike the suicidal imperial guards, the knights fought efficiently and methodically, like hunters trained to bring down the strong.

Even Valter’s Dragon-Shaped Sword struggled to make headway.

“Annoying bastards!”

The flaming blade burned two knights to ash as soon as it manifested, but when dozens of attacks struck it at once, the conjured form faltered and broke apart.

He had no choice but to pull back, forming a defensive stance with the remnants of his Aura. An Aura Blade surpassed ordinary Aura, but against an overwhelming amount of power, even that advantage meant little.

The ninety remaining Imperial Knights pressed forward without pause. Meanwhile, two blades whirled in a storm of sparks.

Cedric swung from the flank, but Evans stepped in rather than retreating, sliding his blade along Cedric’s strike and deflecting it. The grinding of steel threw showers of fire as their swords darted and twisted like vipers seeking flesh.

The moment their blades clashed, they both knew it. They had met their match.

Cedric had reached the peak of unconventional swordsmanship, whereas Evans had done so with the orthodox school. Their styles shared not a single point of intersection, and that made their exchanges all the more violent.

“A dull, outdated form!” Cedric shouted.

“Chaotic flailing without discipline...!” Evans didn’t back down.

The words coming out of their mouths were insults, but the clash of skill only deepened the tension between them.

Evans suddenly broke through Cedric’s offense and countered. One thrust forced Cedric back. And then, without pause, he shifted into an overhead slash. It was a textbook maneuver, but the knight had executed it with lightning speed, making it difficult to read.

Yet, with a loud clash, Cedric tilted his head by mere degrees to avoid the thrust, raising his sword to parry the downward strike in the same motion. Had Evans followed his thrust with a horizontal cut instead, Cedric’s neck would have flown.

In a situation where there was no certainty, Cedric had read the next move of his foe and countered it perfectly out of sheer instinct. The tide of battle turned in his favor.

“Crazy bastard!”

Evans’s eyes widened. Cedric met his gaze and unleashed the secret technique he’d been preparing. The Aura around his sword shimmered, turning nearly transparent.

“Ten Thousand Severing Strikes, First Form: Heaven Slash.”

The moment Dainslife came down like lightning, Evans’s sword was slashed like straw. An Aura Blade—one stronger than most Masters could produce—was cut apart as if it were paper.

Evans reacted immediately despite the shock. He dropped the hilt and reached for the spare sword at his waist.

However, Cedric’s next strike was already there. Evans twisted away, but he wasn’t fast enough. His left collarbone split open, spraying blood.

The wound wasn’t deep, but it would cripple his left arm until it healed. And against Cedric, even that much was fatal. Cedric, now certain of his advantage, gave a cold, predatory smile.

Evans, his face drained of emotion, drew his sword with his remaining arm. With only his right hand, the blade swept upward in a diagonal arc.

Fool, Cedric thought. Cornered animals show their fangs, but when they do, all that’s left is to break those teeth and crush their throats.

Mocking the desperate move, Cedric swung his sword to counter. He planned to deflect the clumsy strike, then land a killing blow while Evans’s guard was open. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Heaven Slash, Cedric’s first form of Ten Thousand Severing Strikes, multiplied his blade’s cutting power for an instant, making it sharp enough to slice through even an Aura Blade or armor made of solid adamantium.

And yet, Evans’s lips curved faintly.

“Heh.”

In the very next moment, the diagonal slash he’d launched twisted midair, curving unnaturally, and passed straight through Cedric’s sword. It was Evans’s secret technique, Balisarda.

It happened in a blink. Before Cedric could react, Evans’s blade carved into his shoulder, tearing a path clear through to his opposite flank. It wasn’t a clean bisecting blow, but deep enough to scrape his ribcage.

Cedric staggered back three steps, crimson spilling down his boots like a waterfall.

“An Aura Blade with a ‘phase through’ property...?”

“Correct.”

Evans’s voice was calm as he flicked the blood from his sword. There was no triumph in his expression.

Balisarda was a weapon of surprise, a blade that could slip through matter itself. But once revealed, its strength diminished. With the element of shock gone, the advantage was also lost. That meant he couldn’t allow Cedric any time to recover.

Without even waiting for his own shoulder to mend, Evans raised his sword again.

“Die, lowlife.”

At this rate, Cedric would die. It had only been one hit, but the wound was catastrophic. Even a Master needed ten minutes of focus to heal enough to move again.

Someone had to save him. Cedric needed someone fast enough to break through the Imperial Knights’ perimeter and whose power countered Evans’s Balisarda.

Only one person fit that description.

“Pitch-Black Dance.”

Karen vaulted through the shadows, leaping several meters before bursting out from Cedric’s own. Her hands spread wide.

Even an Assassin Master couldn’t win a frontal duel with a Swordmaster. She couldn’t trade blades with monsters who’d reached perfection in swordsmanship. Dozens of streaks of green light flared from her palms.

“Projection, First Form: Venomous Serpents.”

Dozens of daggers, each coated in a specially engineered venom, shot toward Evans. With his left arm still not fully responsive, he had to fall back. He poured all his Aura from his sword into his armor, and the daggers clattered harmlessly away from the full plate, unable to pierce it.

Cedric, spared from certain death, gave a crooked grin.

“Hah. Didn’t think I’d end up owing you one like this. But tell me, girl, think you can actually take him? If not, back off now and leave me.”

“Big words from someone who just got caught off guard,” Karen shot back, rolling her shoulders as she turned to face Evans.

His collarbone was already healed. A Swordmaster was dangerous enough on his own, but one empowered by the palace’s magic, wielding a blade that could pass through Aura itself? No matter how skilled she was, in a straight fight, she wouldn’t last ten exchanges.

And yet, a confident smile spread across her face as she let her arms fall.

“Huh. This might actually be doable...”

In her hands appeared a curved dagger shaped like a crescent moon, and the hilt of a sword with no blade. Her instincts as an assassin whispered the truth.

Evans, commander of the Imperial Knights, was surely one of the five strongest foes she’d ever faced. If she fought him head-on, she’d lose. Against this monster, there was only one path. To kill.

I can do it.

She knew then that this was a foe she could kill, and all by herself.