It was one thing to die for a cause without expectation. That, at least, had a certain beauty to it.
But the people Aizen had seen demanded an equivalent exchange—if they were to throw away their lives, then they had to achieve their goal.
And if there was a chance they wouldn't, then they hesitated.
"I've seen plenty of people consumed by revenge, only to cower when they realized that taking their enemy's life didn't guarantee their own survival."
"How ironic, for those 'prepared to die' to hold back."
"They don't just want death. They want to die only if the price is high enough. Look at this ridiculous duel request—Calix is the same."
William smirked.
It was clear now.
Calix wanted a battle where his death would at least cost William something in return.
He couldn't accept an outcome where he died while William only suffered minor injuries.
So he was making outrageous demands, hoping that if he made a hundred desperate moves, one might land.
"The truly dangerous ones," Aizen continued, "are those who coldly calculate the cost of their vengeance. Those who know that even taking an enemy's arm or an eye is a victory. But fools like this? They demand an equal exchange, and in doing so, they often lose everything."
William leaned back in his chair, amused.
"I see. Then I suppose I should accept."
"...Your Highness. Did you listen to a single word I just said?"
"I did. You're saying that until he sees an opportunity to kill me outright, he'll stall for time."
Aizen frowned.
William wasn't wrong.
If Calix was the type to only take a fight when he believed he could guarantee a worthy outcome, then he wouldn't truly commit unless he saw an opening.
William's conclusion was clear.
He would give him that opening—only for it to be a trap.
Aizen was about to protest, but before he could, William slid a box across the table.
Thud.
The weight of it was undeniable.
It was nearly the size of a person's torso.
Aizen blinked "What is this?"
William grinned "A royal heirloom."
A Royal Legacy.
Aizen froze the moment he heard those words.
Even in an age dominated by the Empire, there were still remnants of royal families scattered across the lands—vassal states that had been left intact rather than being completely annexed.
But to call something a legacy meant something entirely different.
"…Could it be something left behind by the previous Duke of Grimaldi?"
"Not just something—but things."
William's correction made Aizen's brow furrow.
Not a single relic, but multiple?
Did the fallen House Grimaldi truly possess the means to leave behind such an inheritance?
Unable to suppress his curiosity, Aizen reached forward and opened the chest.
"…Armor?"
What lay inside was a breastplate—gleaming white, reminiscent of pure platinum.
It was only a single piece of a full suit of armor, but even this fragment alone spoke volumes.
Aizen carefully lifted the breastplate out of the box, and the moment his fingers brushed against its surface, his eyes widened.
"Impossible…!"
Even by touch alone, he knew.
There was no one in the present age capable of forging something like this.
He wasn't sure what metal had been used, but it was unlike any armor he had ever encountered—both impossibly light and incredibly durable.
Moreover, intricate runes had been inscribed into the gaps between the plates, subtly distorting the surrounding mana.
'This isn't just sturdy—it's built to counter magical attacks as well.'
Unfortunately, Aizen had no way of deciphering the exact enchantments.
He was a master of the sword, not magic.
Still engrossed in studying the armor, Aizen only snapped back to reality when William spoke again.
"I'd like to ask Sir Aizen to test its durability."
"…Test? You don't mean…?"
"Yes. Strike it with all your might."
"Hah…!"
Aizen barely swallowed back his shock.
Even he had rarely seen craftsmanship this flawless.
And now, William was asking him to destroy it?
"Your Highness, there's no need to test an armor of this caliber. Just by looking at it, I can tell—it's one of the finest suits of armor in existence."
"Still, wouldn't it be useful to know the exact limit of its durability?"
"That applies to mass-produced equipment. But an artifact like this—one that cannot be easily replaced—is no different from destroying a treasure with your own hands."
"In that case, all the more reason to test it."
"…Excuse me?"
"This armor is mass-produced."
"...!"
Aizen's composure slipped for the first time.
Mass-produced?
This treasure?
Stunned, he instinctively rose to his feet, demanding clarification.
"You're telling me… this is a mass-produced item?"
"Technically, an ancient mass-produced item. There are about a thousand of them remaining."
"Hah… Haha…!"
A bitter laugh escaped Aizen's lips.
A thousand.
Not ten, not a hundred—but a thousand pieces of this armor still existed?
Just imagining an army of a thousand soldiers clad in this was enough to send chills down his spine.
'Even raw recruits wearing this could raze a fortress with ease…'
That realization alone was unsettling.
But then he considered a darker possibility.
What if those thousand warriors weren't mere recruits, but trained veterans?
Or worse—what if they were all knights, fully mastered in swordsmanship?
"…Sir Aizen."
William's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Aizen exhaled slowly before refocusing on the breastplate before him.
It was still an extraordinary piece of armor.
But if there were truly one thousand of them…
Well, breaking just one wouldn't be an issue.
Having made his decision, Aizen reached for the wooden practice sword beside him.
"You're going to strike it with a wooden sword?"
"If I use a real sword, it won't be a test."
It was a statement that could have sounded arrogant—yet there was no falsehood in it.
No matter how durable the armor, it was still an inanimate object standing still, taking the hit head-on.
If Aizen swung his true blade, nothing would remain intact.
The test would be meaningless.
Hum—
As Aizen gripped the wooden sword with both hands, waves of condensed mana surged through the weapon.
It wouldn't be as sharp as a real blade, but with this much energy imbued into it, the strike itself was no different from a battering ram.
Taking a deep breath, Aizen stepped forward—
—And swung.