The unique swordsmanship of the Duke of Decaraznan, The Shattered Sun, was designed to exploit anomalies and target an opponent’s weaknesses.
“Hah—!”
Noel suddenly lunged forward, and the sword in her hand twisted grotesquely in a reverse grip, aiming fiercely at Cain’s vitals.
In the next moment, dozens of shimmering lines materialized in the air, converging toward him in an unpredictable assault.
Yet, Cain’s expression remained unchanged. He thrust his sword straight ahead, subtly disrupting Noel’s trajectory before she even realized it. Without hesitation, he used the resulting force to slip into her blind spot.
However, Noel did not panic. She swiftly twisted her body and reversed her grip. The sword rotated gracefully in her hand, releasing a sharp, piercing blast.
The Shattered Sun was a sword technique designed to be effective in any stance or position. There was no reason to falter simply because her opponent had shifted.
In an instant, Noel’s silhouette blurred. This time, she lunged at Cain, her blade slicing through the air toward his torso. She moved so fast that the sword’s trajectory shimmered like a flash of light.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“…!”
But at that moment, her sword was deflected at an almost imperceptible speed. It was pure reflex—instinct honed to an extraordinary degree.
Cain had parried her blade without the slightest hint of distress. His composure, his effortless deflection of her attacks—he truly embodied the presence of a master.
‘…What?’
Then, something odd caught her eye. The arm Cain had used to block her earlier attack was trembling slightly. There was no way a warrior of his caliber could be exhausted from such a brief exchange.
No… it wasn’t fatigue.
It was hesitation.
As if he were unsure whether he should strike down someone so vastly inferior to him.
He was an ideal soldier!
A warrior so great that even his mercy was overwhelming.
Noel was awestruck.
But admiration alone wouldn’t win this fight. She attacked once more, pouring her full strength into her strikes, yet Cain dodged them all with an almost disinterested gaze.
Shhh—!
No matter how she swung, her sword never reached him. Each time it neared its mark, its course veered off, as if manipulated by an unseen force.
…No. That was impossible.
His evasive skills were simply that refined.
Deep down, Noel had no choice but to acknowledge the vast difference in their abilities.
And then—
Cain suddenly dropped his sword.
His abrupt surrender left her momentarily stunned.
To an untrained observer, it might have seemed like exhaustion had finally overtaken him after such rapid movements.
But Noel wasn’t naive enough to believe that.
A warrior of his level wouldn’t tire so easily.
This was a trap—one meant to lure her in.
‘…Should I take the bait?’
It was tempting. Too tempting.
She had no chance of winning at this rate. Even if she lost, she at least wanted to land a single blow on him.
Her pride demanded it.
Whoosh!
In the end, Noel made her choice.
Gathering every ounce of her remaining strength, she launched herself at Cain’s heart.
This was her last, desperate gamble.
And it led to her utter defeat.
Boom!
“…!”
She didn’t even understand what had happened.
By the time she regained her senses, the sky and ground had flipped.
The only thing she could guess was that he had countered her attack and effortlessly subdued her.
A complete defeat.
Yes, she had lost.
And it wasn’t just a simple loss—Cain had taught her something through this battle.
Perhaps this was what Heir Estel had been trying to instill in her all along:
[Never drop your guard until the very last moment.]
Cain had engraved that lesson onto her very body. He had pretended to be vulnerable—against someone he completely outclassed—just to teach her.
“I lost,” Noel admitted. “It’s my complete defeat.”
Her voice was steady, almost refreshed. And as she gazed at Cain, admiration flickered in her eyes.
The rumors had been true.
Heir Estel was indeed perfection, both as a warrior and as a person.
“…Umm, Heir Estel.”
She was about to suggest having tea with him—perhaps even discussing swordsmanship over a quiet conversation.
But—
“Young Lord, you did well.”
A soft, feminine voice interrupted.
A white-haired woman approached Cain, moving with effortless grace as she handed him a towel.
Noel frowned at the sudden intrusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but the moment she did, an unseen force nudged her back slightly.
Looking closer, this white-haired woman was no ordinary person.
“…Hmph.”
The woman glanced at Noel and let out a quiet sigh, her lips curving into a small smile.
Normally, Noel wouldn’t have let such behavior slide.
Yet, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.
Maybe it was the presence of Heir Estel.
Or maybe—just maybe—as a woman, she instinctively felt that if she asserted herself now, she would somehow lose.
Tzzle—
As she locked eyes with the white-haired woman, Noel suddenly recalled a certain rumor.
Come to think of it, Duke Estel had once been engaged to Sarah Cernard, one of the five most beautiful women on the continent.
Yet, he had broken off the engagement because he fell for another woman.
‘…Could she be his lover?’
Even from a woman’s perspective, the white-haired lady was stunning.
So much so that Noel could almost understand why Cain had been willing to abandon Sarah Cernard.
‘…Why?’
Noel didn’t resent Cain.
Her own father, the Duke of Decaraznan, had two concubines in addition to his wife. For a duke, having multiple lovers was hardly unusual.
It was just…
She resented the matter a little.
Because while she stood here—struggling, fighting to prove herself—this proud, untouchable man had someone perfectly suited for him right beside him.
And perhaps, just perhaps, in some hidden corner of Noel von Decaraznan’s heart, a tiny, imperceptible feeling had begun to take root.
A feeling she didn’t yet recognize.
One that would only grow… ever so slightly.
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