Loras Tyrell.
The "Knight of Flowers" was staring dead at Lynn.
Gone from his handsome face were the usual grace and confidence, replaced only by deep wariness and disbelief.
Lynn felt nothing.
To him, Loras's lance techniques held no secrets anymore.
Winning would be as easy as turning over his hand.
But that wasn't enough.
He didn't just want a simple victory.
He wanted a victory that would plunge everyone, especially that self-righteous Littlefinger, into utter despair!
Lynn's gaze shifted slightly, landing on the man sitting next to Loras.
A taller, more mature, and steadier young knight.
Garlan Tyrell, "Garlan the Gallant."
Loras's older brother, and widely acknowledged as the most gifted swordsman and jouster in House Tyrell.
A thought formed clearly in Lynn's mind.
The royal herald's voice rang out again, carrying a tremor he couldn't suppress.
"The Hand's Tourney, Jousting, Final Match!"
"Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers of Highgarden!"
"Against—"
"The Black Knight of the Wall!"
Lynn didn't enter the lists immediately.
He turned his horse and rode slowly back to his preparation tent.
"I need ten minutes to rest."
Leaving these words behind, he entered the tent and dropped the flap.
Those outside assumed he was exhausted and needed a break; no one found it strange.
Inside the tent, Lynn sat cross-legged.
Greensight!
This time, his target was crystal clear.
Garlan Tyrell!
He needed no anchor.
Because just now, he had deeply etched Garlan's image into his mental world with his own eyes!
Hummm—
His consciousness was extracted once more!
His Spirit transformed into an invisible arrow, piercing the fog of time and space, striking precisely toward Highgarden!
He "saw" it!
On the training grounds of Highgarden, filled with blooming flowers.
Two young knights were engaged in intense sparring.
One was the dazzling Loras.
The other was Garlan, wearing a plain helm and ordinary armor.
Garlan's lance work was starkly different from Loras's elegance.
Every charge carried a calm ease, making the heavy seem light.
His lance tip could always penetrate Loras's defense from angles that seemed mundane but were actually incredibly tricky.
That wasn't just technique.
It was perfect control over timing, distance, and force!
It was a realm of returning to simplicity!
Lynn's consciousness absorbed it all frantically.
[Detecting host observing legendary riding skills...]
[Attributes sufficient. Analyzing riding techniques of "Garlan the Gallant" Garlan Tyrell...]
[Analysis complete!]
[Congratulations, Host. New skill learned: Garlan Style Jousting (replacing Loras Style Jousting).]
[Congratulations, Host. Your skill "Riding (Proficient)" has gained significant insight. Proficiency greatly increased!]
Lynn snapped his eyes open.
He opened his attribute panel.
Name: Lynn
Strength: 9 (96%)
Agility: 8 (61%)
Constitution: 7 (52%)
Spirit: 25 (1%)
[One-Handed Sword (Master) 52/2000] (Increased by training)
[Light Sword (Expert) 3/1000] (Increased by training)
[Dual-Wielding (Arthur Dayne Style) (Expert) 41/500]
[Riding (Expert) 311/1000]
[Jousting (Garlan Style) (Expert) 31/1000]
[Click to expand hidden]...
Remaining Experience: 78
Combining the techniques of Loras and Garlan, his jousting skill leaped from Proficiency to Expert, dragging his Riding skill up to Expert as well.
Even though he lacked the experience points to upgrade further, this was enough.
Lynn stood up, lifted the tent flap, and mounted Storm once more.
The final officially began!
Loras Tyrell watched the Black Knight return to the field, his heart full of caution.
He didn't know how the man had defeated Jaime.
But he knew this person was not as simple as he appeared.
"Begin!"
Charge!
Loras adjusted his state to its peak!
Like a blooming golden rose, he rushed toward his opponent with unmatched elegance and sharpness!
However, the black figure opposite him changed again.
Gone was the brute, domineering posture he used against Jaime.
Lynn's body relaxed slightly, his lance held level, seemingly casual.
It was a posture Loras knew intimately.
That was... his brother Garlan's opening stance!
Loras's heart skipped a beat.
Impossible!
Just a coincidence?
He forcibly suppressed the strange feeling, focusing his attention on the duel before him.
THUD!
A muffled sound!
Loras's lance tip aimed precisely for Lynn's shield.
However, just before impact, Lynn's shield dipped at a tiny angle!
Loras's lance slid off the edge of the shield!
But Lynn's lance struck second, landing on Loras's breastplate with speed that looked slow but was actually blindingly fast!
The force was moderate.
But it shook Loras violently, nearly throwing him off balance.
Round one, Lynn's win.
Loras's face changed instantly.
That wasn't a coincidence!
That technique of deflecting force, that grasp of timing to strike second but hit first!
Except for his brother Garlan, he had never seen it in a second person!
On the high dais, the smile on Renly Baratheon's face froze.
He looked anxiously at Garlan Tyrell beside him.
Garlan had already stood up.
He stared dead at the Black Knight in the field, his usually steady face written with disbelief.
How is this possible?
"Again!"
Second charge!
Loras's heart was in chaos.
He felt he wasn't facing a nameless Black Knight.
He was facing his brother Garlan, whom he had never beaten once since childhood!
The feeling of being completely seen through, completely suppressed, enveloped him again.
This brought immense psychological pressure.
Before the pass even happened, he had already lost half the battle!
THUD!
This time, Loras's lance missed again.
And Lynn's lance tip tapped precisely at the point where his old force was spent and new force had not yet been generated!
Loras shook violently in the saddle, nearly falling.
He lost this round. Again.
"No..."
Loras murmured unwillingly.
Then he forced himself to rally.
He couldn't lose!
He was the Knight of Flowers!
The most popular knight in the Seven Kingdoms!
How could he lose to a nameless crow!
Third, final charge!
Loras charged almost blindly, pinning all his hope on this desperate thrust!
He saw the Black Knight coming to meet him.
That posture, that silhouette.
Even the charging stance was identical.
Lynn's figure merged completely with the memory of his brother.
There were even traces of his own shadow in it.
A fear originating from the depths of his soul instantly shattered all his pride and fighting spirit.
He simply couldn't comprehend this inconceivable scene.
Loras's hand trembled uncontrollably.
That tremor decided the victor.
THUD!
There was no earth-shattering crash.
Lynn's lance simply guided, deflected, and pushed with understated ease.
Loras lost all balance.
He traced an elegant yet pathetic arc in the air, then crashed heavily to the ground.
Dead silence filled the arena.
On the high dais, Petyr Baelish felt his vision go dark.
He slumped, boneless, from his chair.
---