Look at this brat.
When he first heard the word spar, Lucian had felt a surge of displeasure.
Not only were Joshua's intentions painfully obvious, but the situation itself was overwhelmingly unfavorable.
He's just a sixteen-year-old kid, but he's trained properly for longer than I have. And on top of that, I can't use my previous sword forms, and my body isn't fully conditioned yet. If we clash head-on, I'm at a disadvantage.
In a beginner's fight where technique couldn't be relied on, bluntly speaking, strength was everything.
The harder you swung, the faster, more powerful, and harder to block your attacks became.
Yet Lucian was in a state where his techniques were forcibly sealed, and his body—after a long period of near-invalid living—had grown weak.
There was no way he could win a contest of strength against Joshua, who had continued training consistently.
Tch. If I'd had just two more months, I could've crushed him one-sidedly.
His body might be blessed, but the true value of mana purity only manifested after sufficient training.
In a novice-level fight lacking raw stamina and mastery of sword forms, it offered little help.
By sheer coincidence, it was an infuriatingly bad moment.
But if he avoided the spar now, the reputation he had only just begun to build would inevitably crack.
No choice, then. I'll push through with experience alone and end this in a draw.
His techniques were sealed and his body weakened, but when it came to real combat experience, Lucian had more than enough.
Joshua, by contrast, was a greenhorn who had never swung a blade even once on a battlefield.
If he squeezed out everything he had left, a draw might at least be possible.
It was just as Lucian was thinking that when an entirely unexpected proposal reached his ears.
"Since we have this opportunity, how about crossing real blades?"
At Joshua's words, Lucian's eyes lit up.
Real swords? Not wooden ones?
Then that changed everything.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea! Let's do it right away!"
"…?!"
The two of them stared at Lucian with stunned expressions.
Even with wooden swords, this was something to worry about—yet he was welcoming real blades?
Aizen, in particular, seemed to have completely misunderstood something and grabbed Lucian by the shoulders as he shouted.
"Third Young Master, how can you be so reckless when you've never even properly held a real sword!"
"What of it? Aren't sword forms meant to be used with an actual blade in the first place? If we use real swords instead of wooden ones, wouldn't that be even better for developing practical combat sense?"
"That's something only seasoned veterans can say! Do you have any idea how many beginners get injured because they mishandle a sword!?"
"I've heard a thing or two."
In truth, it was more than just hearing about it—he had experienced it firsthand.
If you misjudged the force while swinging a sword, it was all too easy to end up slashing your own shoulder or thigh when the blade slipped from your grip.
When Lucian was a novice training on his own, he had been injured like that twice himself.
But pretending not to know any of that, Lucian spoke with a perfectly straight face.
"Still, it's only a spar. To avoid causing injury, we'll both hold back as much as possible—wouldn't that actually be less dangerous than training where one swings with full force? Please don't worry."
"N–No, that's not the point—!"
"My brother is absolutely right. Master, there's no need to worry so much. Surely I wouldn't use this sword to harm my own brother, would I?"
Aizen shut his eyes tightly.
Since both parties insisted, there was no longer any justification to stop them.
As Aizen sighed and nodded, a cold smile formed at the corner of Joshua's lips.
"Hand my brother his sword."
"Yes, Young Master."
No sooner had the order been given than the servant respectfully raised the sword with both hands.
Lucian snatched it from the servant's grasp without a hint of hesitation.
"Ah… this cool, weighty sensation…"
At the sight of Lucian caressing the real blade in rapture, Joshua swallowed a scoff.
Truly foolish. Did he still not grasp the situation?
Being drawn to weapons might be a man's instinct, but that very weapon was soon to be aimed at his own throat—yet he remained so carefree.
Well, I suppose that works in my favor. If he steels himself in advance, the fear when we cross blades might be dulled.
Joshua's true aim had been to instill fear in Lucian.
By publicly exposing him trembling in terror, he intended to shatter the reputation Lucian had built.
The only witnesses were those present here, but that hardly mattered.
The fact that Sword Saint Aizen himself would be unable to deny it would be more than enough proof.
"If you are both ready, draw your swords."
Shrring—
Lucian and Joshua drew their swords at the exact same moment, without the slightest discrepancy.
With a clear metallic ring, two snow-white blades revealed themselves.
It was a sight of peerless beauty—but those who had ever crossed blades with an equal or superior opponent knew the truth.
The instant that icy edge touched the back of one's neck, the mind went completely blank.
Nothing remained but the desire to live.
Let's see what my brother's face looks like.
Chuckling to himself as he imagined what was about to happen, Joshua took his stance.
"Begin."
Whoo—
The moment the signal was given, a sharp blade flew straight toward Joshua's head.
—!
Kkaang!
"Ugh!"
"Third Young Master!?"
"Young Master!"
The clash of steel rang out, accompanied by three cries of shock that echoed through the training grounds.
Despite it being a spar, Lucian had unleashed a merciless diagonal slash with a real blade.
Had Joshua failed to block it by the narrowest margin, he would have been cut from shoulder to lower abdomen.
Yet Lucian paid no heed to the surrounding reactions and swung his sword again.
Kkaang, clang, kka-gang—
"This lunatic…!"
Each time their blades struck and sparks flew, a chill ran down Joshua's spine.
Every single attack was lethal if blocked incorrectly.
This wasn't a wooden sword—it was a real blade—and yet the killing intent behind each strike was unmistakable.
You bastard! Are you trying to kill me right here?!
Joshua clenched his teeth, barely regaining his composure.
As he began to discern the opponent's trajectory little by little, fear gave way to anger.
"With tricks like this—!"
Kkaaang!
Joshua swung with all his strength, knocking the incoming blade aside.
The impact disrupted Lucian's balance, and Joshua immediately followed up with a second strike aimed at his leg.
He didn't intend to kill him—just to smash his thigh with the flat of the blade.
But before that could happen, Lucian's leg moved first.
Thud.
"Ugh—!?"
"Hoh."
A cry of shock escaped Joshua, while an exclamation of astonishment slipped from Aizen.
Lucian had stepped down and pinned the side of the incoming blade with his foot.
"What the—!"
Caught completely off guard by the unforeseen response, Joshua was thrown into confusion.
Blocking a sword not by parrying it, but by stepping on it with one's foot?
That wasn't swordsmanship—it looked more like a tavern brawl!
Yet Sword Saint Aizen, watching from the side, was impressed by Lucian's improvisation.
Remarkable. That's the sort of move you usually only see from a veteran who's been through countless battles.
Aizen knew better than anyone how vital improvisation beyond formal sword forms was in real combat.
An enemy would never politely fight you under conditions where you could execute your forms perfectly.
Having your sword knocked away, suffering serious injuries that restricted movement, or being unable to use techniques due to unstable terrain were everyday occurrences.
There were even times when the gap in skill was so vast that pure swordsmanship alone could never secure victory.
In moments like those, improvisation that exploited the opponent's blind spots was crucial.
In fact, countless knights with outstanding talent had lost their lives early simply because they failed to come up with such responses in unexpected situations.
To Aizen, Lucian seemed to possess something close to a feral instinct in this regard.
"Damn it!"
When the pinned sword wouldn't budge, Joshua cursed and yanked his body backward with all his strength.
And at that very moment, Lucian lifted his foot from the blade.
"Ugh—!?"
With the sudden disappearance of the pressure pinning it down, Joshua's body lurched.
The added weight of the sword he had been pulling threw him further off balance, and once lost, his footing refused to recover.
By the time he barely managed not to fall, Lucian's blade was already flying toward his neck.
"W–Wait—!"
Slash.
"Gaaah!"
"Young Master!"
The servant screamed and rushed toward his master, who was crying out in agony.
He really had swung without the slightest hesitation!
Gasping and choking, Joshua clutched his neck where the cold metal had just passed.
Am I dying? Like this—so pointlessly?
As overwhelming terror seized him, scenes from his past flashed through his mind.
Had he struggled so desperately to survive, only to be killed here by a madman?
The injustice of it all made tears threaten to spill over.
Even so, the servant fumbled frantically, pulling out a cloth and pressing it forward.
"Y–Young Master! First, we have to stop the bleeding!"
"It's useless. With a cut like that—…huh?"
Mid-lament, Joshua felt something was off.
His throat had been slashed so brutally—so why were his words coming out so smoothly?
With a creeping sense of dread, he pulled both hands away from his neck.
"…Young Master. There's no bleeding."
"What?!"
Startled, Joshua gingerly touched his neck.
There was truly no blood.
In fact, there wasn't even a small wound—his skin was smooth, just as it always was.
As the two stared in shock, Lucian tilted his head in confusion.
"What are you doing all of a sudden? Collapsing in the middle of a spar."
"N–No, just now… my neck… the sword—"
"Yes. I brought the blade to your neck and drew it across. I pressed lightly with the flat of the sword so it wouldn't leave a wound."
The thin edge had brushed past his throat, making him think he'd been cut.
But in reality, Lucian had only let the flat of the blade touch it just enough to create that illusion.
Then that means I wasn't even cut, and I was clutching my neck like that…?!
A wave of humiliation and rage made Joshua's vision swim.
This worthless bastard—he toyed with me?!
Spar or not, I'll kill him right here!
Just as Joshua was about to surge to his feet, surrendering to his emotions—
"Stop."
Aizen, who had already approached, pressed down firmly on Joshua's shoulder.
The rock-like pressure transmitted through his palm snapped Joshua back to his senses.
But that didn't mean the anger had subsided.
He had been thoroughly humiliated—retreating like this was unbearable!
"Sir Aizen, I apologize, but the spar is not yet—"
"It is over. I believe I said from the beginning that it would be only once."
"But—!"
"Do not go back on your word, Fourth Young Master. If you bear the name of ValdecK, your words must carry weight."
Under the aura emanating from the Sword Saint, Joshua shrank like a mouse before a cat.
He had already trampled over Aizen's patience by forcing the spar in the first place.
If he pushed things any further, rank or status aside, Aizen would step in and subdue him himself.
Joshua had no choice but to lower his sword and step back.
"That ended a bit too quickly, but it wasn't bad. You were scared, yet you reacted quite well."
"—!"
"Still, having your legs give out just because a blade touched your neck isn't a great look. You are one of the candidates for family head, after all. You've got a long way to go, little brother. Hahaha!"
At Lucian's mockery, Joshua clenched his teeth.
His face, which had only just calmed down, flushed even redder than before, as if it might burst.
If things had gone according to plan, their positions should have been reversed—what kind of farce was this?
Before any more taunts could follow, Joshua hurriedly stood up.
"The spar is over, so I'll be taking my leave."
"Sure. You used your sword well. Take it with you."
"No need. Just keep it. I'm leaving."
Desperate to get away as quickly as possible, Joshua immediately turned his back.
But Lucian's mouth didn't stop, even as Joshua practically fled.
"Don't be too discouraged! It was just a spar—people lose sometimes! You'll win someday! Not today, of course!"
"And hey, are you really sure I can keep the sword? I'll hang it up as a memento of victory! After all, it's the blade with which I defeated my little brother!"
That bastard—seriously…!
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