Clang!Boom!
In the morning light, the clash of steel rang out intermittently, but more often, the sound was of hyper-compressed magical energy carving deep furrows into the flat grassland as swords swung through empty air.
At the center of the battlefield, the two figures moved like phantoms swallowed by the wind. Weaker knights couldn't even track their movements.
Even at such high speeds, the King of Knights' every step was perfectly steady, her magical energy lifting her just above the surface of the soil.
Each swing of her sword carried the full might of her Sword, forcing Guinevere back with the heaviest, most ferocious strikes. Guinevere only chose to block when evasion was impossible.
In contrast, after gauging the King of Knights' strength with her initial surprise attack, Guinevere opted to dodge and observe, occasionally thrusting her sword toward openings she had baited out.
Is this the King of Knights' Instinct?
Guinevere asked herself this internally, but the answer came to her as soon as she posed the question. She understood that defeating the King of Knights by exploiting her openings was nearly impossible.
The Skill [Instinct] allowed the King of Knights to instantly determine the best course of action even when faced with unforeseen surprise attacks.
"As I thought, the best way to beat you is head-on."
Guinevere spoke the words aloud, waiting for the King of Knights to be momentarily distracted by the urge to reply...
Then, she launched a surprise attack, aiming for the King of Knights' sword hand.
The King of Knights' open mouth snapped shut. She sank her stance, and a heavier sword strike intercepted Guinevere's blade. The violent collision of magical energy and steel erupted from the point of impact, creating the loudest explosion of the battle so far.
A moment later, with a low crack of shattering steel, Guinevere—who held the advantage in raw strength—chose to retreat. A new chip appeared on her Sword, and a fleeting look of heartache crossed her face.
Then, Guinevere changed her stance, mirroring the very first one the King of Knights had taken at the start of the battle.
Guinevere's left foot stepped half a pace ahead of her right, both hands gripping her sword before her.
"From the moment I gained consciousness, I've strived to master every skill that could make me stronger. I learned the sword techniques of every knight under my father's command.
At the age of fifteen, I finally integrated all my learned skills on the battlefield, forging a sword technique truly my own.
Now, every knight in the Kingdom of Cameliard wields this technique."
As she spoke, the battle raged on. Yet Guinevere wasn't using the sword technique she claimed to have mastered; instead, she was mimicking the King of Knights' earlier style, which naturally put her at a disadvantage.
She lacked the King of Knights' high-level Instinct and her mastery of the technique paled in comparison.
With each clash of their longswords, the King of Knights added more scars to Guinevere's blade. But the more victories she claimed, the stronger the unease grew in her heart.
She had already fallen for Guinevere's trick once. She tried to dismiss these words as mere distractions, but she couldn't.
Halting her offensive and retreating into a defensive stance, the King of Knights decided to play it safe until she could discern the source of the danger. She would wait for Guinevere to reveal her true strategy.
"Leodegrance Swordsmanship... I've heard of it and experienced it on the battlefield. But I still won."
The King of Knights' unwavering composure caused Guinevere's lips to tremble slightly.
Guinevere understood: the King of Knights harbored no ill intent; she was simply expressing genuine admiration and stating a plain truth.
Protected by a shield of wind, the King of Knights' unarmored blue combat dress remained spotless throughout the battle.
In contrast, the hems of Guinevere's casual trousers had already accumulated mud and stray leaves.
"I've been using it since the very beginning of the fight."
As a transmigrator, Guinevere had read countless wuxia novels in her previous life. From the moment she began training in swordsmanship, the concept of "no form surpasses form" had become her ultimate aspiration.
At fifteen, she had forged her own unique sword style. Now, at eighteen, she had completely forgotten it.
Though still far from achieving her ideal state, Guinevere had mastered the art of adapting to her opponent's moves. By observing and subtly guiding the flow of combat, every lethal strike she unleashed targeted their precise weaknesses.
However, while Guinevere possessed the ability to perceive and guide her opponent into revealing weaknesses, the King of Knights' Instinct nullified every opening she created.
"King of Knights, let's stop here," Guinevere said. "With the sword I have now, I cannot defeat you. Besides, it wouldn't be appropriate for me to win against you in front of everyone. I am your Queen, after all."
The battle had lasted only three minutes since it began. In that short time, the ground within a hundred-meter radius around them had been churned as if deeply plowed, becoming soft and fine. Farther out, sword-pressure gashes scarred the earth like a constellation, each recording their distinct sword styles.
And this was the result of them holding back, with no killing intent in their strikes.
"Are you sure you want to stop?"
The King of Knights felt left hanging, having just warmed up. From Guinevere's words, it didn't sound like she was admitting defeat. Instead, she was blaming her sword and showing consideration for the King's pride, implying she could have won otherwise.
"Yes, I'm done. If you still want to fight, then first give me a sword that can rival your Sword—one that won't be shattered by it."
Seeing the cunning look on Guinevere's face, even the King of Knights, who was naive about worldly matters, couldn't help but think: Guinevere had known the outcome of the battle all along. The only reason she insisted on fighting was to swindle a good sword out of her.
But a sword that could rival Excalibur was not something one could find easily.
Just as the King of Knights hesitated, she heard Guinevere continue, "The sword I ask for is my only betrothal gift request. My dowry, however, is an entire kingdom. And I truly wish to fight you without holding anything back."
With Guinevere's words and the heavily scarred Knight's Sword in her hand, the King of Knights found it impossible to refuse.
Besides, her own fighting spirit had been ignited. She wanted to settle the score with Guinevere once and for all.
As their longswords clashed and their mana intertwined, Guinevere's true intentions were laid bare.
The King of Knights saw a spirit forged through sweat and effort—a fierce determination to slaughter every enemy on the most desperate battlefield and emerge as the sole survivor.
Indeed, Guinevere's mana was bloody and frenzied, capable of slightly influencing the King of Knights' thoughts and making her recall brutal battlefields.
But the dominant emotion within her mana, the reason she sought to slaughter every enemy, was simply her desire to survive.
Guinevere's sword was a blade of survival.
"I understand," the King of Knights said, her resolve finally hardening. "I will prepare the betrothal gift you desire."
Only then did she truly commit to marrying Guinevere. In her heart, Guinevere was a good woman.
Yet, because she had no understanding of same-sex relationships—even after Guinevere had explicitly stated her preference for women—the King of Knights still felt she was wronging her.
With her promise made, her gaze inevitably fell upon the Great Mage Merlin. The betrothal gift she had pledged... she would have to ask Merlin for help once again.