“So arrogant, so proud… Fine, young knight. Pay dearly for it.”

The fight unfolded just as the Ironclad Knight had declared.

Lance moved like wind over snow, his Battle Aura threading through each feint and guard. It looked even, yet any keen eye saw time favored his defeat.

“Earthsplitter!” On the third exchange, the Ironclad Knight finally unleashed his technique.

One strike, like a quake under ice. Lance staggered back step after step, teeth clenched, draining strength to bleed off the force, barely holding upright.

The crowd’s hearts tightened, like drums beneath winter frost.

“Look! He’s the knight-commander of the Golden Legion—vast aura, veteran skill. Against such a foe, can the Blazing Fire Knight win?!” The announcer’s voice surged, then broke in awe.

“One more hit. End it!” Seizing the uneasy hush, and before Lance could recover his breath, the Ironclad Knight drove in again. “Earthsplitter!”

Battle Aura rose like a tidal wall, about to tear Lance clean open. In that heartbeat, he flared with an unexpected power.

“Emerald Impact Shield!”

“What?!” The Ironclad Knight recoiled. He’d expected Secret Sword Blazing Fire, not a spell.

Lance’s spell diffused the strike perfectly. That rending edge that tore the ground—and could have torn the youth—vanished into cool, azure light.

“This is—?!” The announcer faltered, then shouted. “A warding-type spell. Emerald Impact Shield!”

Knights don’t learn spells—human knights don’t. To humans, Battle Aura and mana are opposing currents. So people say, “Even the strongest knight fears magic.”

The Ironclad Knight was an Earth Knight. He couldn’t, like a Sky Knight, blow spells away with raw aura.

Unsure what else his foe hid, the burly Earth Knight shed his earlier ease, held careful distance, and ground out, “Why does the Light Deity always favor schemers like you?”

On the Nordland Continent, only the most gifted human knights wield both aura and magic.

While his opponent hesitated, Lance steadied his breath and frayed muscles. He held the same tone as before. “I told you. I’ll win.”

“Lance! Lance!” The altar grounds lifted in cheers again.

“Nothing but a fame-chasing cur…” the Ironclad Knight muttered.

“So what?” Lance kept prodding.

“You cast off your heart for the kingdom’s cause. You deserve death.” He paused, then his bearing sharpened like drawn steel. “In the future where the king-designate unfurls grand designs, there’s no place for rebels like you.”

Like a mountain of iron rousing in storm, his Battle Aura exploded. Snow became a howling blizzard, white knives racing the wind.

He had been concealing his strength. Out of mercy, he’d matched Lance with ordinary Earth Knight force. Now, he discarded mercy.

“Die!” His roar slammed like a hammer. Aura condensed like steel into a raging, unstoppable surge.

Everyone thought Lance would be torn to shreds.

The Earth Knight of the Golden Legion suddenly grimaced, spat a dull, dark red, and his torrent of aura cut off mid-wave.

“You vile little—” He never finished. He toppled like a collapsing cliff. Thud.

“Wh—what is this?” The announcer sounded lost in the wind. People around the ritual grounds fell silent.

It was too sudden. No death-blow, no finishing exchange.

Who could have imagined a famed legion knight would fall like this?

After a brief huddle at the judges’ dais, the announcer raised his voice, uncertain but firm. “I declare the winner of the second duel—the Blazing Fire Knight!”

The crowd froze for a few heartbeats. A few more, as the ruling sank in.

“Lance! Lance!” The cheer surged again, hesitant yet full. Debates churned, many didn’t know what happened—but passion rose anyway.

This time, Lance didn’t answer their calls.

The young knight walked off the steps in silence, like embers banked under ash.

Naturally, his companions pressed him.

Alice, daughter of the Iron Duke, spoke first. “Lance, can you tell me—how did you bring him down?”

Her eyes were firm yet evasive, friendship and rule wrestling beneath a calm face.

Compared to Alice’s caution, the second prince was blunt.

“You used a ‘trick’ to fell an unbeatable foe.” He sneered, then nodded. “But the trick worked. Most folks couldn’t pull that off.”

The Feng Wolf Marquis frowned. “Blazing Fire Knight, if you keep winning like this… the ancient iron-and-blood may be stained with shadows that aren’t hers.”

Lance knew what they suspected—poison, or something just as dirty.

If this stuck, the Blazing Fire Knight would carry an unforgivable shame. So would they.

He moved to clarify, instinct tugging at his tongue.

Then all those doubtful eyes fixed on him. Lance faltered. He hesitated.

He’d never told them—especially those who didn’t know Fulin. He’d never shared the details behind his wins.

He’d kept the mystique to buy blind trust and adoration.

Now it backfired. The realization hit like cold rain. He wilted inside.

Before gloom took root, someone spoke for him.

“Boss would never do that!” Jeremy, once a mercenary, leaped forward. Rank and status be damned, he jabbed fingers like a furious monkey, calling out each doubter.

“Boss bled for you. And for some princess’s ‘honor’, you suspect him?” He mocked Princess Alice, calling her stance the usual noble hypocrisy.

“And you!” He rounded on Gio Robel. “Boss doesn’t care about you brothers’ feud. You dragged him in, now you toss barbs—what kind of friend is that?”

“In the end, Boss risked his life for me, for my crew, for all of us! You’ve got no right to doubt him!”

Tongues tied, the second prince blinked, then tried. “No, Mister Jeremy, that’s not what I meant. But in matters like—”

He never finished. The Spy Mage at his side cut in. “Your Highness, let’s trust Sir Lance this time.”

“Vien, you too—?!”

“Your Highness, Lance will do all he can to win, but he won’t employ vile means. In the end, he’s a brave young knight.” The Spy Mage was earnest, and he briefly recounted Lance’s deeds in Golden Bay City.

“Alright.” Gio Robel let out a long breath. He sounded helpless, yet a touch admiring. “Lance, no wonder your comrades stay by your side.”

“In any case, if anything else happens, I, Gio Robel, will keep guaranteeing you in the name of the royal house—no, the king-designate.”

“Even if my retainers kept quiet, if your mentor were here, he’d probably strong-arm everyone into trusting you, right?”

“Would he?” Lance asked, puzzled.

“He would. He’s likely on some mission now. If the Duke’s knights serve so hard, and I as royalty can’t show proper stature—can I truly be king?”

“Your Highness, please don’t say that.”

“Hahaha. Vien, you’re always so stiff. Can’t you flatter me like you do the Blazing Fire Knight?”

“No, Your Highness—”

Vien’s eyes flared. Before he could explain, Gio waved it off. “Alright, enough.”

His gaze steadied, voice turning solemn. “Blazing Fire Knight, beating a knight-commander of the Golden Legion was already unexpected. If you can also defeat the Thunderlight Knight and not stop here, then tell me how you won. In the name of the royal house—no—”

“In the name of a friend.” He repeated.

“No problem.” Lance forced the answer out.

The noise on the grounds swelled again as the announcer’s fervor returned. “Good! The short rest is over. Now for the final match of the Knight Festival—”

“From the Heavenly Spirit Empire, a noble, beautiful, and mighty knight of the Celestial Race—the Thunderlight Knight!” As his words rang, she entered on a staged burst of lightning, power flaunted like a banner in a storm.

Gasps rippled across the crowd. “And her opponent—”

“From the Doran Kingdom, until recently a nameless young knight, now renowned—the Blazing Fire Knight—”

“Lance Morrison!” The announcer’s voice scraped raw. Lance answered with a blaze that roared and died. He stepped onto the altar through falling sparks.

Unlike the hush for the Thunderlight Knight, Lance’s arrival pulled cheers like wildfire through dry grass.

People forgot the last duel’s confusion. They forgot this was a Charge Knight versus an Earth Knight. They poured everything into their cry.

“Lance—Lance!”

Lance turned to the crowd, thumb to his chest, voice high and fierce. “I, the Blazing Fire Knight, will win!”

No adoration greeted the Thunderlight Knight. No honor for the Heavenly Spirit Empire. None of the Celestial Race’s unique gravitas echoed back.

The sharp drop and the mismatch with her purpose stirred displeasure in her heart.

Facing a youth who shouldn’t threaten her, the cold beauty’s expression changed.

“I regret that my opponent is a base, weak human.”

“I have no interest in bullying the weak. If you don’t want to die, concede and step down.” She demanded, unfolding Battle Aura without restraint. It pressed down like a thunderhead, near the Sky Rank.

Lance trembled, body’s survival instinct drumming under his skin. He forced a smirk. “You’ll regret more soon.”

“For example, you’ll lose to me.”

“Is that so…” Her tone was chill. Her answer was a flash like flint and storm.

A streak, and she was on him. No sword drawn. She swung a fist, driving straight for his gut.

“Tch!” Lance reacted, but she was too fast. He raised the not-yet-fully shifted Sirius Sword to guard.

A booming impact.

Despite the block, the savage punch knocked him back ten meters, like a leaf in a gale.

He skidded toward the altar’s edge. He chose in an instant. He reset his stance and planted the Sirius Sword, biting into stone for friction. A long gouge ripped the floor, embers spitting like fireflowers. He spent everything to stop short of being ringed out.

“Ah—what?!” The announcer yelped. Onlookers in the stands and those watching through crystal orbs jerked in unison. The Thunderlight Knight’s staggering power, the Blazing Fire Knight’s grit, and the lopsided exchange shocked them all.

Several passes later, the Thunderlight Knight still didn’t draw her blade. She used fists and feet, mocking her opponent’s weakness with every strike.

Lance fought on, stubborn as a cliff against waves, but every strike chewed his flesh; the young knight’s figure hung in tatters like torn banners.

The people of Doran watched, hearts crumpling like frostbitten leaves under a gray dawn.

“So ironic—before the Empire, no struggle matters; is Doran truly helpless?” The king sighed, worry shuttering his eyes like a storm-dimmed sun.

Alice’s regret hit first, sharp as a knife in the ribs, and only then did she move; with each blow Lance took, her heart splintered like ice; she recalled his oath, a hundred tangled feelings welled up, and tears fell. “Enough, Lance! …Enough… Lance…”

“You hear that? Your girlfriend’s calling your name,” the Thunderlight Knight eased her assault, a cold smile slicing like sleet. “Can’t you surrender for her?”

“Shut up. I’m not doing it for her!”

“Then for what?” Her surprise flashed, a winter spark in iron clouds.

If not for love, what’s worth your life?

Lance’s answer came like a slap of wind, almost mocking. “For myself, of course.” He spat blood like rust, pain written across his face, yet control steady as a rock, and he smiled.

That answer had never crossed the Thunderlight Knight’s mind, a thorn she hadn’t expected in this thornbush of a boy.

Or she had, and refused to believe someone this stubborn would say it aloud.

“Humans really are filthy,” she sneered, contempt falling like ash. “You’re just one more. Disappointing.”

“So what? What’s wrong with fighting for myself?” Lance shot back, defiant as a sapling after fire.

Her temper flared like dry tinder, then froze into a killing calm; her hand finally settled on the hilt at her waist, a winter blade drawing breath.

Her gaze turned glacial; anger made her Battle Aura spark with uneasy lightning, a storm gathering under skin.

“Thunderclap Sword, Zophikal,” she whispered, the name like thunder behind clouds.

A bolt fell from heaven; a blade bound in lightning burned white; hearts across the altar went cold, like a lake under sleet, as one truth settled—this boy might die to thunderlight.

On the brink, the Blazing Fire Knight felt no fear; his voice went light, a tale told by a brazier. “Heard of the Maple Leaf Princess of the Doran Kingdom?”

She closed in, eyeing the flowers round the altar from the corner of her eye, a smirk like a thorn. “Heard. She’s long gone, isn’t she?”

“No. She still exists—only asleep. And now—”

“I’ll wake her.” A deep blue radiance, magic and not Battle Aura, rose around Lance like moonlit tide.

“What?!” She stopped on instinct, the Celestial Race’s spell-sense pricking like needles; a nameless threat moved like wind through grass.

But seconds later, recognizing the spell, she laughed, a dry branch snapping. “All this for plants?”

Within twenty meters of Lance’s feet, grasses surged and trees thrust upward, a green tide erupting like spring breaking ice.

The announcer cried out, voice ringing like a gong. “A Level-6 earth-and-wood spell—Plant Domain?!”

“Plant Domain, a mid-tier spell,” a learned spectator muttered, thoughts fluttering like pages, “an instant garden that blooms and withers. No attack. No cover. At a moment like this, what good is landscaping?”

“With these weeds, are you throwing yourself a grand funeral?” The Thunderlight Knight chuckled, voice like hail.

“Of course not.” Lance’s calm was a steady flame. “I told you, I’m waking the sleeping Maple Leaf Princess.”

His words fell, and the ocean of green turned to fire; along towering trunks, fierce flame speared upward like banners of autumn.

“What—?!” Feeling an unprecedented heat, she sprang back, lightning snapping shut as she shifted Zophikal to defense, weaving a crackling shield around herself.

The blaze roared, and Lance’s voice came through like a bell behind smoke. “Just like your secret—”

“If your strength comes from the heavens, if your Zophikal gathers lightning and turns it into surging Battle Aura—”

“If that’s true, then I can—”

He strode from the fire, a figure born of embers; he raised the Sirius Sword high, a lightning rod and a whirlpool in a burning sea, drinking deep of the fire—of heat, of radiance, of near-infinite fervor. “Knight of Maple Leaves, descend—”

Fire wheeled across the sky like autumn leaves, and a twenty-meter colossus took shape, an autumn grove crowned upon her shoulders and hers alone.

The announcer choked on awe, voice ringing like a bell. “Is that the Maple Leaf Princess?!”

“The Maple Leaf Princess,” the king breathed, like wind in a cedar, “a Knight of Hope, emblem of flame, and also a Knight of Ruin… Blazing Fire Knight, you mean to resurrect legend this way?”

The Thunderlight Knight hunched against the heat, waves hammering her shield like summer storms. “Utterly boring,” she hissed, teeth clenched.

Lightning flared brighter; she charged the giant like a thunderhead breaking, intent on smashing legend with skyfire.

“Thunderclap Sword, Zophikal!!”

She detonated with light and might to match the giant; electric shrieks like a thousand birds tore the rhythm and roar from the flames.

But Lance hadn’t summoned the giant to cower; this “Maple Leaf Princess” was his hidden blade to claim the field.

“Take this!! Secret Sword Blazing Fire!!”

As the giant neared shattering, a long sword formed in her hands, armor flowered over her frame; at the cliff’s edge, the fire re-forged her whole armament, and she struck. Flame’s boom and thunder’s crack tangled and crashed, again and again… until the arena fell still as ash.

“Heh… heh…” The Thunderlight Knight panted, chest rising like bellows, laughter rough but sated. “So that’s all?”

“So I win.” She stood firm, Zophikal pointing like a spear at Lance, who lay prone a short distance away.

“No. The winner… is me.” Lance forced himself upright, a reed in wind, and pointed to the ground under her feet.

“What are you trying to say?”

Confusion flickered; she didn’t look where he pointed. In her mind, her strength remained banked like coals, and Lance was spent like burnt paper. Wasn’t the outcome obvious?

Then a cold verdict rang from the judges’ stand, clear as a bell in winter air. “Thunderlight Knight, out of bounds! By the rules, leaving the altar counts as fleeing. The fleer loses. The winner is—”

“Blazing Fire Knight!”

“So, you lost.” Lance’s breath sawed; his hand trembled like a leaf, but he still pointed at her.

She said nothing. She couldn’t swallow it; she hadn’t gone all out, hadn’t shown the Celestial Race’s might, hadn’t unfurled the Empire’s radiance—too many not yets, and she wouldn’t lower Zophikal.

But the fact stood, solid as stone. The Knight Festival has rules, and even she couldn’t deny them.

“So I lost…” She looked up at the gray sky, words thin as mist.

“That’s right. You lost. I won.”

She took in his stubborn silhouette, a sapling after storm, and snorted, unwilling. “Hmph. Seems you’re a proud knight too.”

“Appreciate the compliment.”

Bittersweet and bound by duty, she still warned, voice a cold wind. “Don’t think beating me changes anything. Doran will still—”

A rumble cut her off; the altar’s center collapsed like rotten ice.

Drained to the marrow, Lance couldn’t react; the ground opened like a maw, and darkness rushed up.

“Hold on—don’t you dare let go!” The Thunderlight Knight flashed forward, dropped hard with a smack, and snatched his hand at the last instant, stopping his fall. But he didn’t grip back; blood and dust slicked their palms; even caught, he slid inch by inch, like rain down glass.

“I said don’t let go!” she snapped, voice cracking like a whip.

Lance wanted to, but strength had burned away; he smiled wryly, a candle guttering. “Didn’t you say Doran will fall? If you let go—”

She tightened her hold like iron and barked back. “Idiot. A knight still keeps honor!”

Seconds ticked by; the crowd shook off the quake like dogs shaking rain; dust thinned, and their predicament stood plain as day.

“What are you doing?! By my order—hurry and—” The king’s command cracked, and his armored knights rushed in like a tide.

The order was right, but the result went wrong. The aftershock left the ground brittle as crusted ash; before the knights could haul them up, the hole yawned wider and swallowed whatever it touched.

“Waaah—!” In moments, only a handful of helpless cries hung in the air, then fell away as bodies plunged into the dark.