She hadn’t even had time to get a good look—yet the bout on the other side had already ended.
“Well then, who’s next?”
At Iris’s calm voice, the tournament stumbled forward into a few more rounds.
There were no more knights foolish enough to go easy on her.
Everyone approached the duel with sincerity—and Iris, too, responded in kind.
With each level she ascended, she came to understand more clearly why Cedric took such pride in his knight order.
Cedric was right.
Their prowess was simply buried beneath the shadow of Valentine. But in truth, calling them some of the best wouldn’t be an overstatement.
They all walked a path denied by others, yet no one walked it more righteously than Cedric Leontheim.
And his knights were just like him.
Their sword styles embraced such variety—even techniques entirely foreign to the capital’s rigid doctrine.
This… this is what it means to wield the sword.
Unlike the holy knights of Valentine, who were bound to live upright under divine grace.
To them, swordsmanship often became little more than a ceremonial performance—especially among nobles.
“Urgh!”
“Hah!”
But in Leontheim, swordsmanship was a survival technique—
Not for show, but to avoid being devoured by beasts.
To protect one’s life.
“…I yield.”
The final opponent, having poured everything into the duel, raised his hand.
“I’ve learned so much today.”
“And so have I,” Iris replied, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow and bowing in kind.
Even knights who had rushed back after forfeiting their own matches stood stunned.
Every single duel had ended with overwhelming dominance.
She can’t wield sword Qi? That’s nonsense.
People typically used the presence of sword Qi as a standard of power—
because sword Qi was supposed to manifest only when one had honed their sword art to a high degree and attuned with their inner energy.
But watching Iris made them question everything.
Honestly, with swordplay like that, whether she had Qi or not didn’t matter in the slightest.
What is she?
She was a monster—different from Cedric, but monstrous all the same.
When they had first bowed to their lord, it was out of awe.
But with Iris, it was entirely different.
Cedric’s sword was unpredictable because it lacked refinement—chaotic and unreadable.
That was a foolish thought.
Iris’s sword, in contrast, was refined to the breath—down to the faintest flicker of her blade.
Smooth. Unassuming. And that was the terrifying part.
Even when her blade was right in front of you, you couldn’t read her movements.
Because nothing stood out.
And before you even knew it, your neck was exposed to the cut.
It was never about whether her technique was flashy or not.
The reason no one could best Cedric or Iris was simple.
She’s the real thing.
Whether they’d crossed swords with her or simply watched, everyone was left with chills.
She can’t summon sword Qi? That has to be wrong.
Without question, her strength existed on a level that couldn’t be measured by ordinary standards like Qi manifestation.
She’s what it means to be a true cultivator of the sword.
Every knight who had crossed blades with her felt a rush of exhilaration they couldn’t suppress.
She was on par with Cedric in raw skill—but the
nature
of that strength was different.
If Cedric was a star in the heavens they could never reach,
Iris was like a finely polished gem—shaped through relentless effort and pain.
Our lord will never truly understand us.
Those born with such dreamlike gifts cannot understand the struggles of those stuck at the bottom.
But Iris was different.
She had walked their path. You could feel it.
The arcs of her sword. Her controlled movements.
All of it radiated the presence of someone who had shattered and rebuilt herself countless times.
Steel forged again and again in the fires of hardship.
She was someone who had walked the road they all aspired to—
before
them.
Not a fantasy.
A real, attainable ideal.
A fellow knight, who had just returned to his seat after a total and humbling defeat, was asked:
“So? How was it?”
“…She’s insane. No doubt about it—Milady is a genius.”
And maybe he was insane too.
He’d poured everything into the match… lost cleanly…
and yet he was filled with joy.
He looked at Iris standing with grace before everyone—
and felt gratitude just for the chance to face her in battle.
“Then who’s up for the final?”
“Ah, who was it again—?”
Whack!
“Argh!”
“Watch your tone.”
The one who struck him down playfully stepped forward past the others.
“You dare forget my name?”
That smug smile was one Iris had grown quite familiar with.
Ah, that’s right.
From the moment they first met, this knight had always been the most talkative.
Iris had heard he was known for spreading gossip about her throughout the sect like a busybody.
“Greetings, Lady! The name’s Liu!”
His exaggerated greeting drew groans and jeers from all sides.
“Liu, quit flapping your mouth and focus.”
“Hey! Don’t ruin my image in front of Her Grace!”
It was said he was like the binding thread that kept the sect together.
‘Indeed,’ Iris thought.
The aura he carried was cheerful and warm, very different from the cold, sharp edge of Valentine.
“Why don’t you look at me like you did Greg? I beat him in the last round, you know.”
Grumbling to himself, Liu unsheathed his sword—
And the smile on Iris’s face began to fade.
That sword—
She recognized it all too well.
It was identical to Orchid’s sword.
The very same one Iris had never once managed to overcome, no matter how many lifetimes she tried.
Not once had she ever defeated Orchid in a spar.
‘Iris. Let’s duel.’
‘…But, Brother…’
‘If you don’t spar regularly, you’ll stagnate. You don’t want to be a useless cultivator, do you?’
Orchid had always pushed her to the brink.
Whenever she raised her sword, he would respond with an even harsher blade, eyes full of scorn and ridicule.
She’d believed it was her weakness that provoked such contempt in him.
Over time, just seeing Orchid’s sword filled her with an instinctive fear—
A trauma that haunted her soul.
“That blade… how did you come by it?”
“Oh—uh, it was popular a while back. Bought it then, and it just suits my sword style!”
Ah, right.
Back when Orchid’s fame as a sword genius had spread far and wide, countless imitations of his blade had been made.
“I see…”
Iris lifted her sword solemnly.
It’s fine. He said he wouldn’t use sword qi.
He’s not Orchid. He won’t come at me like a storm of steel.
“Begin!”
At Greg’s command, Liu struck first. Iris hastily blocked with her rapier.
She
should
have been able to counter. But—
‘My feet won’t move.’
The learned fear from years of torment narrowed her movements.
While Liu fluidly shifted from offense to defense, her own blade was reduced to nothing more than a shield.
Crushed by her emotions, Iris couldn’t find the will to retaliate.
“What’s wrong with Lady Iris?”
She was clearly struggling—her back was tense, and her gaze unfocused.
Liu was certainly one of the more gifted cultivators of Leonteim, but even he couldn’t compare to the Iris they saw earlier.
And yet…
Something felt wrong.
This was supposed to be a spar—a match of strength and skill.
But why did it feel so… tragic?
Iris wasn’t fighting to win. She was barely enduring, as though trying to protect something invisible.
It didn’t look like an equal exchange of moves—
It looked like the desperate struggle of a weakling cornered by a mighty foe.
“Please, my lady! Raise your sword!”
Liu could feel it too.
Iris, breathing heavily, met his gaze. Her lips pressed tight, and once again, her blade slipped out of position.
‘Maybe I should just surrender.’
She was so tired.
Her pride had been worn thin by memories that refused to fade.
Twisting her body, she deflected the next strike—
And that’s when she saw a familiar figure at the edge of her vision. Cedric.
Clang!
She had no time to confirm. But it
felt
like Cedric.
Iris turned pale.
Would he be disappointed in her?
She’d told him she loved the sword…
Promised she would never let go.
But now here she was again—
Crushed. Weak.
‘He must think I’m pathetic—’
The self-loathing thoughts stopped.
Everyone was watching her with worry—just like back in Valentine.
But Cedric’s gaze felt different.
‘Strange… I couldn’t even see him clearly, but I just know.’
If it were him, he’d probably say something like:
Whether you win or lose—
‘You did well.’
Yes. That alone was enough for now.
As her heart settled, the path of her opponent’s blade became clear.
Liu’s sword curved like a serpent, aimed first at her waist, then shifting to strike her neck—
But before it could land, Iris’s rapier sliced through its arc.
“W-Whoa!”
From an unexpected angle, she severed the momentum of his strike.
A powerful blow—hard to believe it came from such a slender blade.
Typically, techniques relying on brute force are powerful, but Iris shattered one such technique using an unbelievably precise angle.
‘How can a sword even move like that from such a position?’
Her sword moved as if it had a will of its own.
Though lacking in raw strength, Iris utilized her light body and flexible wrists to glide through the air like a feather on the wind.
‘Where should I move next?’
Liu’s blade faltered, its trajectory broken, as if the sword itself had lost its freedom.
Iris instantly picked up on that shift.
Though she had no profound strength or Sword Qi to speak of, Iris possessed a superior gift others lacked:
Keen Insight.
With her razor-sharp perception, she could read her opponent’s movements in a blink and trace the trajectory of their swordplay.
And then, using that understanding, she would break the flow and seize control of the battle.
‘All I need is the smallest opening.’
The fleeting moment when she could reverse the blade’s edge and pierce through the opening in her opponent’s guard—
Now was that very moment.
“Hup.”
Liu inhaled sharply in shock.
The rapier had swiftly climbed along the length of his blade and now pointed straight at his abdomen.
Its speed was so blinding that it was hard to believe it wasn't reinforced by Sword Qi.
The blade surged forward like a flash of light, twisting Liu’s sword at a strange angle and striking with terrifying precision.
Chk.
The tip of Iris’s sword stopped just short of Liu’s body.
Victory belonged to her.
As Iris exhaled in short bursts, Liu shook his head and raised his hand.
“I yield.”
Applause erupted from all around.
Startled, Iris looked around to find knights smiling and cheering.
“Wow, that was truly breathtaking!”
“Milady! You were holding back just because it’s the finals, weren’t you? That was unbelievable!”
Liu flopped down on the ground, completely spent.
Throughout the duel, he had genuinely believed Iris was toying with him.
“Milady, if it’s alright, may I request another bout sometime?”
“With skills like that, how could anyone call her talentless? That rumor’s nonsense!”
“Are Valentine knights monsters or something? How did they ever beat her before?”
Compared to their first conversation, a flood of questions poured in now.
Iris answered each one politely—until she realized they were all under a misunderstanding.
“Well… truth be told, aside from sparring with family, I’ve hardly ever dueled anyone before.”
Silence fell like a guillotine.
The reason knights spar is simple—training alone will only take one so far.
‘She’s joking… right?’
They wanted to believe that.
But in those sky-blue eyes, there wasn’t a trace of deception.