Margaret tightened her grip on her sword.

On the surface, she remained composed. To anyone watching, she looked no different from before, as if the battle had yet to take its toll on her.

But that was not the truth.

The relentless waves they had endured had already pushed her far past what most knights could handle. Under normal circumstances, even the most seasoned knight would have sought rest by now.

She did not have that luxury.

The power behind each strike from Admiral Julius rivaled that of a Dullahan, forcing her to meet every attack with absolute focus. She could cut through them, yes. That much remained within her capabilities.

But the cost was beginning to show.

A dull ache spread through her arms, and the strain only kept accumulating with every motion as each deflection pushed her closer to her limit.

It was not a question of whether she could respond to the attacks, but whether her body could continue to endure the force that came with them.

And sooner or later, that answer would become clear.

She needed to end this quickly, or at the very least force him off her trail.

Zyphran was no longer a place where she could afford to let her guard down. There were no allies to rely on, not even those who still bore the Aetherion insignia. Even the Emperor’s own people had turned against him.

It was unfortunate.

But Margaret had already made her choice.

There was no room left for doubt. Whatever consequences followed, she would bear them without question. If their faction was to be branded as villains, then so be it. The judgment of others meant nothing to her to begin with.

As long as it aligned with Vanitas’ goals, that was enough.

For his sake, she would act.

Even if it meant standing against the entire world, even if it meant abandoning everything she once believed in, Margaret would not waver.

Because in the end, there was only one thing that mattered.

Vanitas Astrea was a dying man.

And she would do anything for him.

"So... get out of my way!"

Margaret’s blade came down.

She needed to close the distance. As long as there was space between them while Admiral Julius remained at full capacity, the fight would always be to her disadvantage.

She could not afford to let him dictate the pace any longer.

The general understanding had always been that mages were weaker in close combat. After all, magic was, at its core, a tool developed to counter demons.

But a knight’s path was different.

It was the sword, honed through constant battle. A life spent fighting, refining technique through experience rather than theory.

Under normal circumstances, that difference was decisive.

But this was not a normal circumstance.

Admiral Julius was not a conventional mage. He did not rely solely on distance or overwhelming spells.

He was just as capable in close quarters as she. His control over magic allowed him to bridge the gap of a mage’s natural disposition, enhancing his mobility and speed in a way that eliminated the typical weaknesses mages were known for.

Unlike most common mages, he was no glass cannon.

———!

Margaret planted her heel firmly into the ground, drawing in as much aura as her body could muster. The energy gathered quickly, tightening around her form as she prepared her next strike.

But by the time her blade moved, Admiral Julius had already responded. His shadows surged forward, closing in from all sides and leaving Margaret no clear path through.

Gnashing her teeth, Margaret adjusted mid-motion. Her strike shifted from offense to defense. Her blade met the incoming shadows as she forced them away just enough to keep them from fully enclosing her.

Deflection.

That was all she could manage.

There was no opportunity to turn the exchange in her favor. Every attempt to advance was met with an equally refined response. Julius did not overextend, nor did he leave gaps in his control.

His defense was as solid as his offense. He was not lacking in any area at all. A true all-rounder.

———!

Margaret stepped back, creating a brief moment of distance, before pivoting forward once more and pressing back into the exchange.

This had become a contest of initiative.

Whoever seized the offensive would dictate the flow of the battle, while the one forced onto the defensive would inevitably fall behind. Neither of them could afford that position, and so they continued to clash, each refusing to yield control.

Their blades met again and again.

Sparks scattered through the dense forest. Flashes of light ignited through as steel collided with shadow and force.

Injuries began to accumulate.

Margaret’s body showed signs of small cuts and bruises forming as the battle wore on. Julius was no different. Though composed, he too bore the evidence of their clash.

To an outside observer, it would appear as a stalemate.

But Margaret knew better.

This could not continue for long.

"That style of swordsmanship... It brings back memories."

"...."

Margaret paused for a brief moment as the words reached her.

"I have been to Illenia... before it fell."

"...."

The forest grew quieter as their clash came to a cease. Margaret took a single step back.

This was not the first time she had heard something like this.

Countless people had spoken of Illenia with the same sense of regret. They spoke of its fall as a tragedy, of its beauty as something lost to time.

It had become a story told by others she had long since grown accustomed to hearing.

"Your father... Dante Illenia, the King... he had the same fire in his eyes."

...But not like this.

"You knew... my father?"

"How could I not?"

"...."

Margaret fell silent.

"I had even personally crossed blades with him many times in the past. Knight against mage.

"...."

Margaret’s eyes widened as something surfaced from the depths of her memory.

There had been one instance.

Only once had her father personally dueled a foreign guest. She had been there that day, seated among the audience within Illenia’s small stadium, watching from afar as the match unfolded.

To her, her father had always been the strongest.

There had never been a doubt in her mind.

And yet, that day...

She had watched him fall.

For the first time in her life, she saw him brought to his knees. The image had etched itself into her memory, and it was that specific moment that she felt her entire world shatter.

"You’re that... old fart..."

She remembered him.

Even as a child, she had hated him for that moment. Back then, she had been too young to understand what had truly happened, too young to process it as anything other than an injustice.

But she remembered what she did.

Small as she had been, she had rushed forward, her tiny hands striking against his knees with all the strength she could muster. Tears had blurred her vision as she shouted at him.

——How could you do that to Father? Go away... you’re a bad man!

It had been nothing more than a child’s tantrum.

Julius, much younger then, had only chuckled at the outburst, finding amusement in her reaction rather than offense. Even her father had not taken it seriously.

——Now, now, Margaret. That’s enough.

Dante Illenia had reached out, his voice calm as always.

——Don’t be rude. It was only a friendly spar.

——But he... he...

Her words had faltered, choked by the tears she could not hold back.

Back then, she had not understood.

There were existences in this world that even the invincible Illenia she had believed in could never hope to reach.

Seeing that her tears would not stop, Julius had tried to ease the situation in his own way.

——Ah... ow! You got me, little one!

He staggered back slightly, exaggerating the reaction as if her small strikes had actually hurt him.

——Take that, bad man!

——I yield! I yield! I had no idea the little princess was this strong!

He raised his hands in mock surrender, playing along. It had been nothing more than a simple act, something lighthearted meant to calm a crying child.

——Hmph! Don’t ever hurt Father again!

——Alright, alright! I swear on my name, I won’t!

——I truly apologize for this... Admiral...

Dante Illenia had stepped in. His expression could only be described as embarrassed.

——It’s nothing. Heh. The girl’s got spirit.

Julius had waved it off with a chuckle, his gaze shifting back to the young girl as he lowered himself to her height.

——What’s your name, little knight?

——K-Knight?

——Are you not one? I have seen you carrying a wooden sword around.

——B-But knights are people who train... who work hard... who swing real swords...

Her voice grew softer toward the end, as if unsure whether she even had the right to say it.

Julius reached out and gently placed a hand on her head.

——And what do you think you are doing?

——...Huh?

——You carry a sword. You stand your ground. You rushed at me even though you knew I was stronger.

He smiled.

——That is more than enough to call yourself a knight.

The girl froze for a moment. Her small hands were tightening at her sides as she processed his words.

——B-But... I’m still weak...

——All knights start that way.

His voice was calm, without a hint of mockery.

——What matters is that you keep moving forward. Strength comes later.

She looked down, her earlier anger slowly dissipating.

——So... I can still be one?

——Of course.

His answer was absolute. As if he truly believed a small Kingdom’s princess could become the greatest knight in the world.

——Then stand proud. A knight does not lower their head.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze again, though the confidence from before had turned into something timid.

——Then... tell me your name, little knight. I’ll remember it and wait until you become etched among legends.

——M-Margaret...

——Nice to meet you, Knight Margaret. I am Julius Schneider.

"It seems you have finally recognized me."

Julius looked at her with a faint smile. Blood ran down his torso in thin streaks, staining his uniform.

Margaret tightened her grip on her blade, her teeth grinding against each other as she forced herself to hold his gaze.

"You said you would protect us..." she said. "You said you would come to Illenia’s aid when we needed you..."

Because Julius Schneider had not been just another guest.

He had been her father’s closest friend.

"So where were you?!" Margaret pressed, her voice rising. "Where were you when the demons broke through our walls and burned everything to the ground?!"

"...."

"Where were you when... mother and father—"

"I am sorry, little one."

Margaret bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Then, she adjusted her stance.

"I apologize," she suddenly said. "My emotions got the better of me."

As if a switch had been flipped, her expression turned cold.

"I, Margaret Illenia, Sword of Vanitas Astrea, hereby swear that I will cut you down."

"It is unfortunate that it has come to this."

"As long as you stand in his way, it was always going to end like this."

"Then answer me this," Julius said. "Why him? Why would you devote yourself to someone like Vanitas Astrea? I may not have the right to say this, but Dante... I don’t believe this is the path he would have wished for you."

"You want to know who was there that day?" she said. "Vanitas Astrea."

"...."

"He saved me. Again and again, he was the one who stood in front of me and held my hand when no one else did."

Julius fell silent.

So that was the reason.

He exhaled slowly as he considered her words. It was not a matter of logic to her. It was something far more personal than reason.

And yet, that did not change what he believed.

Vanitas Astrea was clearly the enemy. Not just his, but the entire world.

That was the part Julius could not reconcile. He had known Dante. He had seen the kind of man he was, the values he upheld, and the environment he had raised his daughter in.

None of it aligned with the Margaret before him now.

How had that girl, the one who once stood her ground before him with tears in her eyes, ended up like this?

"Enough pretenses," Margaret said. "Your words will never reach me."

Because, even until now, in Margaret’s eyes, he was a bad man.