Chapter 203

The Sword Trial, the arena to determine the continent’s greatest swordsman.

It was not difficult for swordsmen to gauge each other’s skill. They clashed blades, and the stronger one prevailed.

But finding the seven strongest swords among the dozens gathered here and ranking them in order was no simple task.

For instance, if we assume a winner-advances format where the Sword of Life and the Sword of Death face off in the first round, one of the Seven Swords of the Continent would be eliminated right from the start.

But if they were to fight in a so-called round-robin format, it would become a battle of attrition, losing the meaning of determining pure swordsmanship.

Therefore, in the Sword Trial, victory or defeat does not necessarily determine elimination. Among the weak, even the victor may fall, while among the strong, the defeated may still advance.

This is what is known as a culling process.

At this level, avatars are not yet available. However, there were no particular restrictions on other abilities, and swords were no exception.

And as the first target of that culling, Dale repositioned his grip on the sword hilt.

A knight unknown to Dale stood there. Yet, the crest engraved on his armor suggested he was a swordsman from a fairly renowned noble house.

That was all.

Thwack!

Dale thrust his sword forward with a powerful kick, and the aura exploding from within him overwhelmed his opponent’s blade. Clang! The swords clashed, and in the instant they collided, his sword whirled and plunged vertically into the floor.

One strike.

“Wh-what…!”

The knight’s sword was driven into the floor, and he muttered in disbelief at the sight.

“But… the Saxon family’s heir is a mage who uses magic power, isn’t he?!”

After muttering, he shouted in disbelief.

“He must have accelerated the mana circle in his heart! For one who uses magic power, not aura, to participate in the ‘Sword Trial’…!”

It was at that very moment.

Thud!

The shadow slammed into the ground, and the sword plunged straight down. It tore through the protesting knight’s chest, the blade bursting out through his back.

“……!”

The breastplate, bearing the emblem of the twin-headed dragon symbolizing the Imperial House and its rank. And fluttering the golden-threaded surcoat, the First Imperial Prince, Lancelot, drew the sword from its hilt.

Thud!

Blood spattered over the wound, the pouring blood staining the prince’s golden surcoat and steel armor crimson.

“Ugly and pathetic.”

“……!”

“And above all else, tedious.”

First Prince Lancelot said, twirling the hilt of his sword.

“Is it worth waiting around to watch every little insect fight?”

Lancelot turned his head away. Directly toward Dale, who held the sword.

Through the blood-soaked steel helmet, a cold gleam flashed in his pupils for a moment. They were reptilian, narrow slits like a snake’s.

“I agree, brother.”

In the same silence, the Seventh Prince, Mordred, spoke. Behind the two princes, the swordmaster, Sephelia, bowed her head silently. A stillness that felt like it could freeze everything settled over them.

The imperial camp: the empire’s two princes and the sword spirit.

The Lancaster camp, the Heavenly Sword and Charlotte.

Saxon’s camp, Dale and his three swords: the Light Sword, the Killing Sword, and the Wandering Sword.

With the ‘Sacred Sword’—which should have been vacant—added to the remaining five swords, the blades of the four great camps now glared menacingly at one another.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that among the continent’s Seven Swords, the sword masters of six blades were effectively determined.

Yet only one seat remained unfilled.

The position of the strongest sword master, vacant ever since that day when Bader Orhart fell after being defeated by the hero from another realm.

The Divine Sword.

There is no doubt that the Duke of Lancaster, the Heavenly Sword, and the First Prince Lancelot are eyeing that position. And the ‘Black Prince’ was no exception.

Thus, while the four factions openly engaged in psychological warfare, the remaining knights finally began to understand the weight of this position and trembled. They, too, were no ordinary nobodies. Yet, they were no match for the level of the monsters gathered here.

Even Charlotte Orhart, who had felt the wall daily before Dale’s talent, was one of those monsters.

“Prince Lancelot is correct.”

And so, after a moment of silence, he smiled quietly.

“I, too, find watching the petty squabbles of dozens of nobodies rather unpleasant.”

“I suppose so.”

And before Dale could even finish his sentence, Lancelot thrust off the ground and charged forward.

Clang!

Swords clashed. It was Lancelot’s sword, but not Dale’s.

“Please restrain yourself, Your Highness.”

The greatsword of Sir Helmut Blackbear stood between them. The berserker’s blade, easily a meter long, was Madness.

“How dare you draw your sword before His Highness the Prince, you mad dog of Saxony…!”

Simultaneously, the swordmaster Sephelia drew her blade, ‘Soulbringer,’ and it fell to the swordmaster Baro to block it.

Clang!

“Heh heh, this old lady sure has a temper.”

“Barro, you bastard…!”

A silent standoff had already begun between the powerful figures of the Imperial and Saxon camps, while the Heavenly Sword and the Sacred Sword remained steadfastly silent.

Purely in terms of numbers alone, Saxony’s forces are the strongest among them. Moreover, if things go south, Dale has Charlotte and even the blue spiderweb capable of wielding the ‘Holy Sword’. To put it bluntly, there’s nothing to fear in this situation.

“Rather than die a pointless death, I offer you the chance to withdraw right here and now.”

Thus, the ‘Black Prince’ spoke. To the swords seeking to prove themselves within this Hall of Swords.

“It would be best for all of you to recognize your place and withdraw.”

Ha, ha ha! This brat’s words are a masterpiece, a masterpiece.

At Dale’s words, the Seventh Prince Mordred burst into laughter. He was the defeated commander who had once fought alongside the ‘Black Prince’ in the Northern Demon Realm during the holy war, only to have his entire unit annihilated by the Immortal General and escape alone.

“Ah, Prince Mordred. It seems you’ve safely overcome the defeat and nightmares of that day’s battle.”

“……!”

At those words, a murderous aura, ominous beyond measure, once again filled the air. It was at that very moment.

“Everyone, that’s enough.”

Kwoong!

After a long silence, Cheon-geom finally drew his sword and thrust it into the ground. Simultaneously, a shockwave reverberated, as if the very earth at the mountain’s peak had twisted.

“Count Brandenburg, as the one presiding over the trial by sword, would you kindly bring order to this chaos?”

Cheon-geom retorted directly at Philip. Among the Knights of Saint Magdalena, Philip laughed coldly, as if it were someone else’s affair.

“The ‘Black Prince’ standing before us killed my proud father.”

Philip said after laughing.

“And he killed Prince Michael, the beloved son of His Highness the Duke of Lancaster, the Heavenly Sword.”

“……”

“At the hands of this wicked ‘Black Prince,’ we have lost countless beloved family members!”

Philip declared.

“Above all, did not the Holy Maiden Aurelia, the next wielder of the Sacred Sword, have her very life taken from her?”

“So what do you intend to do about it, Count Philip?”

Dale retorted coldly.

“The traditions of the long-failed Kingdom of Tutonia are none of my concern. But there are things I must reclaim here!”

Philip declared. At last, he revealed the ‘masterstroke’ he had been harboring in his heart.

“──Lady Saint, I wish to propose betrothal to you!”

To Aurelia, the Swordmaster of the Sacred Sword, who should have perished as ashes in the frozen lands of Saxony—a lie and a pure white.

“……?”

At the utterly unexpected words that followed, Dale gasped in disbelief.

“My father was the former Sacred Sword, and thus, by forming a bond with the Count’s house, the Sacred Maiden’s position will become even more secure!”

Philip said.

“Is not the Duke of Lancaster, the Heavenly Sword, the same? I too know it. The sorrow of having beloved family torn from me by that ‘Black Prince’! How much more so for the imperial house itself. How threatening Saxony is to us, how it has taken away what we cherish……!”

Silence fell. Yet within that silence, Philip of Brandenburg paid no heed.

“I propose a three-way alliance right here and now, where we join forces to eliminate the ‘Black Prince’! Only then can we peacefully and honorably divide the Seven Swords among ourselves. Once Saxony’s ‘Black Prince’ and the three swords following him are gone, the Seven Swords will be more than enough for all of us!”

“……”

“And I am content with the position of the Mad Sword!”

“…….”

“……”

Silence fell after Philip spoke. It was the coldest silence in the world.

“Wow.”

After the silence, it was the Seventh Prince Mordred who spoke.

“I’ve seen my share of idiots in my life, but I’ve never seen a moron as astonishingly idiotic as this bastard.”

“P-Prince Mordred…?”

“What the hell gives a piece of trash like you the right to call yourself the son of the Sacred Sword?”

“They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and it couldn’t be more true.”

Dale shrugged his shoulders in mockery, paying no heed to the fact that Philip’s arrows were aimed directly at him.

“Do you really think that kind of strategy will work?”

Dale sneered, turning to Philip.

“What… what did you say…?”

At those words, Philip’s expression froze for a moment. The Duke of Lancaster, the Heavenly Sword, remained silent. Only Charlotte’s face showed a faint trace of bewilderment. Seeing that, it became clear. When the time came, Charlotte would gladly answer her lord’s call and take up the sword.

“Ha! You’ve become a cornered rat, trapped by my brilliant strategy!”

“One question,”

Dale retorted in disbelief.

“Do you even know what your father, the Holy Sword, did to the Holy Maiden on the island of Britannia?”

“Ha! You call that a deed? Was it not a noble knight who defeated her and claimed victory in fair combat?”

Philip shouted without a shred of doubt. Hearing this, Dale was left speechless.

He turned his head away abruptly.

The jet-black Aurelia in the shadows was speechless, and the pure white Holy Maiden there was no exception.

They swallowed their cold hatred, leaving behind shock and utter disbelief.

It was at that very moment.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

After a long silence, the sword-eared Celestia spoke. She drew the ‘Soulbringer’ held in her hand.

“Forget that stupid pig’s nonsense for now. Is there any reason we can’t kill the ‘Black Prince’ right here?”

Her words carried a chill of demonic aura beyond compare.

“The ‘Black Prince’ of Saxony is dangerous. But even if we kill him here, it would be easy to disguise it as an unfortunate incident during the sword trial. What do you think, Your Highness?”

At those words, the blatant killing intent finally stretched taut.

Grand Duke Lancaster of the Heavenly Swords remained silent, and Charlotte looked at Dale. As if awaiting her lord’s command.

The pure white maiden of the castle turned her head, gripping the sacred sword.

“Well now, old lady. Seeing our numbers, is that all you have to say?”

Master Baro retorted coldly. Purely in terms of the Seven Swords, it was three against two. The fact that the neutral Holy Sword was bound by the ‘Blue Spiderweb’ would become a fatal ambush they didn’t know about.

“The Seven Swords’ numbers may be that way.”

Just then, the Seventh Prince Mordred looked around and asked again.

“Come to think of it, the number of ‘testers’ here doesn’t seem to match that.”

However, regardless of the number of swords, the number of knights gathered here in the Sword Hall to take the ‘Sword Trial’ is indeed that.

“At this very moment, anyone who defies my brother’s and my command will be treated as a ‘traitor to the Empire’ and their entire lineage, spanning three generations, will be exterminated.”

The Seventh Prince, Mordred, said with a cold sneer.

“So now you’re starting to get a sense of what needs to be done, aren’t you? Proud swords of the empire.”

Moreover, with the Crown Prince—the heir to the imperial bloodline—present there, it was a foregone conclusion which side they would align with.