"Royal Court Knight?"

Grace gasped softly, her brown pupils contracting sharply. A whirlwind of suspicion and conjecture flooded her mind, tightening the furrow between her brows.

Mushiyu also caught the title. Her eyes instantly lit up, her gaze darting back and forth over the man named Dean.

She knew this designation well. In the game, "Royal Court Knight" referred to both a group of NPCs and a prestigious title—reserved for the elite guardians of the Central Empire’s royal family. NPCs bearing this title were mini-bosses during sieges, requiring entire player squads to take down. For players, earning it demanded sky-high contribution points and solo-clearing a brutally difficult test dungeon. Only top-ranked players ever achieved it—a true mark of strength and honor.

Mushiyu had nearly claimed it herself. At the final boss’s last sliver of health, she’d halted her attacks and footwork, letting the monster one-shot her full-health character.

—She never wanted the title. Accepting it would bind her to the Central Empire’s faction. As she’d always said: she played to experience the world, not drown in pointless conflicts.

Equivalent titles existed across races: the Elvenkind’s "Spirit Guardian of the Divine Tree," the Dwarves’ "Master Artificer," the Orcs’ "Ironblood Wolf Rider." Each represented a faction’s pinnacle. Royal Court Knights were most numerous, followed by Ironblood Wolf Riders. The rarest? Spirit Guardians of the Divine Tree.

Strangely, these rarest guardians were also the strongest. Their trials were brutally harder—almost a tier above the rest—making the honor nearly impossible to earn. Many Elvenkind players grumbled incessantly, driving down race selection. Yet those who succeeded enjoyed far superior perks. Why this imbalance? No one knew. But a widely circulated rumor claimed—the game’s developer had created their first character as an Elf.

*To see a Royal Court Knight here?* Mushiyu marveled. *Shouldn’t he be guarding the imperial palace or grinding raid bosses? Is this some hidden mega-dungeon? Ah, crap—what raid dungeon? This isn’t even the game!*

Amused by her own thoughts, she chuckled and tapped her forehead.

Just then, the long-prepared Minotaur lunged.

Muscles coiled in its thick legs unleashed terrifying explosive power. It closed the distance like a gale-force wind, dragging its massive axe. Momentum spun the blade into a crescent arc overhead—then crashed down with earth-shattering force!

"Too slow!" Dean barked, sidestepping in one fluid motion.

He’d read the Minotaur’s entire sequence the moment it tensed to leap. Orcs relied on brute strength; that forward bound seemed swift, but its wind-up was glacial to Dean’s eyes. No matter how ferocious the follow-up strike, it only gifted a prepared opponent an opening.

The axe buried itself deep with a thunderous *crunch*. Shards of stone sprayed outward, spiderweb cracks fracturing the earth—but the blow landed empty. Dean had already slipped to the flank. His wrist flicked; the flat of his sword slammed against the Minotaur’s wrist.

***Crack!***

The beast grunted, its arm going numb. The axe clattered to the ground. Seeing Dean’s sword rise for a strike, its eyes blazed crimson. It threw back its head and unleashed a continuous, bone-rattling roar.

Farther back, Grace instantly clapped her hands over Mushiyu’s ears the moment the Minotaur’s eyes changed. Mushiyu watched helplessly as nearby soldiers staggered and fell from the sonic blast—some bleeding from ears and nose, knocked unconscious. Even the Royal Court Knight faltered mid-swing. The Minotaur seized the opening, driving a crushing fist into Dean’s hastily raised blade. The impact forced him back several stumbling steps.

Mushiyu whirled to check on Grace. Only after seeing her calm, reassuring smile did her own tension ease.

The roar ceased. Grace lowered her hands, eyes fixed on the fight. The Minotaur ignored its fallen axe, closing in with bare fists. Blows rained down like relentless tidal waves. Dean retreated, parrying each strike. Steel met flesh with the sharp *clang* of hammer on anvil.

Without the axe, the Minotaur was terrifyingly faster—agile despite its iron-hard body. Each punch carried palpable wind pressure, making even distant Mushiyu’s scalp prickle.

Dean, however, retreated with unwavering poise. Though on the defensive, his expression remained serene, like an unyielding rock in a storm.

Just as Mushiyu leaned forward, breath held—

"The victor is decided," Grace murmured.

Mushiyu blinked at her in surprise. When she looked back, the tide had turned. Dean surged forward, slipping through a gap in the fist-storm as if the opening had been waiting. He drove his elbow upward. Momentum collided—

The Minotaur’s eyes bulged. Its tidal assault froze. Dean hooked his leg behind the beast’s knee, shoved hard with his left hand, and the towering frame crashed to the earth. Before it could scramble up, the icy tip of Dean’s sword pressed against its furry throat.

"It’s over," Dean stated flatly. Not a bead of sweat marred his brow. His breathing remained steady.

"Whoa… so effortlessly taking down something that huge!" Mushiyu breathed in awe.

Grace caught her starstruck expression and smiled faintly. "Hmph. Exploiting such an obvious opening? I suppose even a Royal Court Knight has *some* skill."

*Uh…* A dark line slid down Mushiyu’s forehead. *That didn’t sound like praise. More like disdain?*

She blurted out, "And what would *you* have done?"

Grace met her eyes, smiling. "A single stroke of the sword. Why complicate it?"

*Gulp.* Mushiyu swallowed hard, forcing a strained grin. "I—Impressive!"

*Who spilled a century-old jar of vinegar here? That’s some next-level sourness!*