How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?-Chapter 70Vol 3. : Too Close to Call

Under everyone’s gaze, Isatia came to the opposite side of the Training Field’s center, slipped off her student loafers, and stepped up in over-knee black stockings. Black hair, black dress, black stockings, and cool pale skin—stark contrast, strangely mesmerizing.

Mm. Two pairs of violet eyes crossing swords; two pairs of black stockings.

Vinny looked at the weapon Isatia chose—a training rapier with a basket hilt.

With Isatia’s talent, this obviously wasn’t the only weapon she’d mastered.

Aesphyra vs. Isatia. Destiny Heroine vs. Destiny Heroine. Carillian Academy first-year #1 vs. #2—this was the main event of main events.

Even an old hand like Vinny had to admit: he needed to sit up for this.

Between Aesphyra and Isatia—these standouts among Destiny Heroines—whose fortune, whose protagonist halo, whose favor, whose talent, and whose trials honed them harder??

This duel was going to be spectacular—even if it forbade magic, Spirit Souls, and Saint’s Favor; even if it was pure weapons only.

And yeah, the tacit understanding between these two? One look through the crowd and they both knew the invitation was for the other.

Vinny glanced around. Plenty of classmates had snapped out of the shock from his own flashy showing and were now locked on Aesphyra vs. Isatia.

Be real: what’s a hateful stinky guy compared to two outstanding girls going head-to-head? The gold content of a high-level duel is just different.

Worst case, even putting skill aside—men fighting is never as... entertaining as women fighting. Women fighting is the most entertaining.

Now it wasn’t just their class’s attention. Even other classes in the adjacent Training Fields, once they saw who was on this stage, had all eyes drawn over.

These two had sky-high popularity on campus, after all.

After the instructor announced they could begin, neither moved. They observed each other’s micro-motions, probed for offensive intent, and pre-read the next step.

Vinny watched and tried to learn. How to put it... He could see what both intended, but learning it himself was still hard. The reaction speed and insight needed were another tier up; if you’re not at that realm, even knowing what experts will do doesn’t mean you can handle it.

No wonder people say when experts cross blades, every move kills. Compared to the opponents Vinny had just faced—who attacked without scruple, telegraphing intentions with zero feints and pure “heart on sleeve”—this was a different difficulty class altogether.

Isatia was waiting. Aesphyra was waiting. Both waited for the other to betray intent. Whoever couldn’t hold it first—whoever let a micro-motion slip—would have their move read first.

So even after the instructor’s “friendship first, competition second” and the call to start, they didn’t budge. They stared each other down, letting the wind lift their hair.

Hm? Wait—wind??

Vinny suddenly looked to the edge of the Training Field. Their field sat right by the windows, so the wind was stronger here.

Between masters, a gust can tip the scales—that saying wasn’t wrong.

A breeze swept in. Aesphyra was facing the windows; the wind flipped her bangs. For a split second, a lock of hair veiled her sight.

Isatia moved that instant. From flawless stillness—immovable mountain—to brandished edge, it took her less than half a second.

As Aesphyra’s silver fringe fell, Isatia—who’d been at a safe distance—was already within arm’s reach, the rapier flashing in on a wicked angle.

That wasn’t “winning dishonorably.” A real battlefield shifts in instants. Environmental factors must be accounted for before the first move. If this happens, it’s your bad luck—or your lack of meticulous prep—for not foreseeing it.

In the space of a gust, the opponent “blinked” in front of you—an attack with zero windup, no window to react. Anyone would be hard-pressed. Even upperclassmen would panic in that moment and lose their calm.

Seeing the details, Vinny clicked his tongue inwardly. If it were him—could he handle that?

Well, his bangs weren’t that long. A breeze wouldn’t blind him.

Anyone who caught how Aesphyra got timed held their breath for her, thinking the match was already decided.

“Clang, clang!” To everyone’s surprise, Aesphyra lifted her sword and caught the thrust cleanly—as if her sight had never been affected—parrying Isatia’s sudden lunge.

A flicker of surprise flashed in Isatia’s eyes—so faint you could miss it—but it didn’t change her follow-up.

Longsword versus rapier—steel rang in midair again and again, too fast to track, two white bolts of lightning colliding and rebounding, making viewers break into a sweat.

The gale their blades kicked up felt like midwinter snow, needling every student’s face.

Plenty of spectators couldn’t help thinking: if this were live steel—and your opponent were either of them—wouldn’t the fight be over before a single exchange?

You might not even realize your head had hit the ground. You wouldn’t even feel pain, right?

Right. The “clang-clang-clang-clang” was like a squall slamming glass—several impacts per second. What kind of attack frequency was that??

How were the two of them even seeing ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) each other’s moves?

“S-So strong!” Shicodale’s little mouth was almost an “o.” “They’re both so strong.”

Well, yeah. They’re both Destiny Heroine big shots.

Vinny pursed his lips on the side—then something struck him. He looked at the white-haired Moon Elf beside him.

Right, there was a Destiny Heroine here too. He always forgot this dopey, fluffy Moon Elf was also one of them.

Right then, Aesphyra seized an opening. Her crossguard caught and bound Isatia’s rapier—a perfect parry-riposte—then the knight’s longsword chopped down at Isatia.

Isatia had already anticipated Aesphyra’s follow-up the moment her blade was bound. Her rapier couldn’t move—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t counter.

In swordplay, kicks take up a non-trivial slot. A swordsman who uses kicking arts versus one who only swings a blade—there’s a huge gap.

As Aesphyra parry-riposted, Isatia lifted that long, black-stockinged leg and, without warning, stomped Aesphyra’s shin, knocking her off balance for a beat. The riposting blade skewed off line, and Isatia slipped away with ease.

From passive to proactive—Isatia seized initiative again. Rapier in hand, she spun a dazzling flower in the air, making it impossible to read her next attack line.

Aesphyra wasn’t about to let initiative be taken. She simply used the off-balance beat to open distance, dipped low, and swept her longsword at the back of Isatia’s knee—a single flowing chain of motion, no hitch from having been kicked.

Seeing it, Isatia knew her feint hadn’t fooled Aesphyra and chose to guard. Even a cut to the leg counted as a loss. In an unarmored fight, a clean chop to a hand or leg usually ends your ability to continue.

“Clang, clang!” Rapier and longsword collided again, power so great it felt like the air itself warped.

They locked weapons, testing strength—neither yielding—and both reflexively brought in kicks.

They moved almost simultaneously, but Aesphyra was a hair quicker—her black-stockinged foot struck Isatia’s abdomen.

She did pull the force—Aesphyra controlled the power. The aim was only to break Isatia’s balance.

Isatia did lose balance. Aesphyra looked poised to finish—but mid-air, Isatia’s reaction and speed were razor sharp. Her black-stockinged foot hooked Aesphyra’s ankle like a little crook, yanking the single-leg-plant Aesphyra off balance as well.

The two tumbled across the Training Field. Isatia recovered first and drove her rapier down at Aesphyra. Aesphyra returned the favor in kind—before Isatia could fully rise, she snapped a kick into Isatia’s sword hand, precise enough to boot the rapier flying.

Without a weapon, Isatia was suddenly at a disadvantage—but clearly, she wasn’t one to concede. The instant she lost her blade, she didn’t waste a single futile motion. She didn’t lunge to retrieve it, didn’t freeze up.

She did exactly one thing: she clamped Aesphyra’s wrist in her grip.

No weapon? Then take the opponent’s. At least don’t let the enemy have one.

Aesphyra tried to chop with her sword, but Isatia’s grip was iron-tight, doggedly yanking Aesphyra’s wrist to limit her movement.

In the stalemate that followed, the longsword clattered to the ground. Neither bent to pick it up. Reason was simple—they were already too tangled up to stop.

Once weapons were gone, fists and feet became the deadliest tools. In a blur of strikes too fast to track, their blows whipped up savage gusts of fist-wind and leg-wind.

Watching, Vinny’s eyes actually started to ache with fatigue. They were too fast. A black figure and a white figure traded close-combat arts on the stage—weaponless now, but still back-and-forth, neck-and-neck.

All anyone could really make out were those two pairs of black-stockinged legs intertwining and shifting positions again and again.

Isatia truly was among the strongest combatants of the Destiny Heroines—she could fight Aesphyra to a draw. Even if only for a time, and even without using magic, Spirit Soul, or Saint’s Favor—that was already incredible.

Vinny remembered that in close combat, Vanessa’s raw strength exceeded Aesphyra’s, and Vanessa could fight Aesphyra even. Looked like Isatia and Vanessa were about the same tier in melee.

Back in the entrance trial Secret Realm, when he crossed blades with Aesphyra, she’d used a Blessed Hero’s Holy Sword while he’d used a mithril warhammer. Pricey, sure—but in quality, a refined weapon can’t compare to a Hero’s Holy Sword. Not even close.

“Stop! Both of you, stop!” Right then, the instructor stepped in and called out to the two girls locked in the center, still trading even.

Training weapons won’t injure students—getting tagged means a loss. But fists and feet are different.

What if the two got more and more heated as they fought? Remember—these two were first-year #1 and #2.

More importantly—

“You two, halt the match. Class is over.” With the instructor’s reminder, the students realized they had no idea when the class bell had rung. That meant this period was done.

Since the instructor had said so, both had no choice but to rein it in, step apart, and head to opposite sides of the field to put their shoes back on.

“You both performed excellently—perfectly matched, hard to separate a winner. We’ll call this one a draw. No objections?” When they came over, the instructor spoke.

They exchanged a glance—and nodded at the same time.

On the surface, they accepted it. In their hearts... who knew if either was convinced.

“Alright, that’s it for today. This was just a training match—no grades involved. Those who lost, don’t be discouraged: failure is the mother of success. Reflect after the bout if you want to improve. Those who won, don’t get cocky. Above all, don’t let this create rifts between classmates.” After the instructor’s closing words, the class was officially dismissed, and students trickled out.

Vinny got up and left with Shicodale.

Usually they went back to the dorm for lunch. With Shicodale cooking, costs dropped a lot—though on campus, food wasn’t expensive either; there were plenty of good, cheap places.

After Vinny left, he didn’t see Isatia or Aesphyra. No idea where the two of them went.

Ahhh, I’m beat.

The moment he got back to the dorm, Vinny flopped onto the sofa and rolled back and forth like a wheel.

“Classmate Vinny, food’s ready!”

“Oh, okay, got it.” A short while later, Shicodale’s voice came from the kitchen. Vinny sat up. It always felt like his previous life—Mom finishing cooking and calling him out of his room to eat.