"Hans... he didn’t make it back."

That was the outcome Dennis Amber received after sending his first recruit to join a far-off expedition. The youngest knight of the Royal Guard, dispatched to a no-man's land as additional reinforcements, never returned from the battlefield—not even as a body. The shock of losing a comrade for the first time. Dennis Amber buried the scar it left on his heart, never allowing himself to examine it, to keep his motivation from permanently faltering.

He had to endure.

Meanwhile, the palace had already been infiltrated by the influence of the second prince, who had brought the Bening faction into their midst. Many of Dennis’s old comrades from the First Guard, including his recruits, were never coming back. Nothing, no one, could he protect. So Dennis laughed on the outside while clinging desperately to his sword with everything he had.

Eventually, another recruit joined his ranks, even though he wished it would never happen again.

A knight with long black hair and a peculiar aura.

The new recruit, who introduced himself as Arsen Bern, was strikingly powerful. Though he seldom revealed his full swordsmanship skills, the techniques Arsen occasionally displayed in training were at a level that Dennis could barely keep up with. The fact that the King himself personally summoned Arsen made it clear he was no ordinary recruit.

Dennis treated him indifferently, trying not to grow attached. Yet, over time, as they trained together and he saw Arsen’s skills and dedication, Dennis found himself caring deeply for his new recruit. Even if Arsen Bern wasn’t truly meant to be his successor, Dennis treated him as though he were.

And so, when Dennis saw that his opponent in the quarterfinals would be Javier Franco, he felt relieved. Javier’s swordsmanship was rife with enough killing intent to kill anyone, and if Javier was a knight of Leon Bening, there was no telling what dirty tricks he might try during the match.

And thus, Dennis faced off against Javier Franco.

Though his body was riddled with holes, blood pouring down, he never let go of his sword. He had to win here. He had to defeat that man.

When Dennis came to his senses, he found himself lying on the ground, with Javier Franco approaching, sword in hand. With his vision blurring, Dennis glanced at the spectator seats. There, he saw Charlotte and Maxime sitting in their seats. But what caught his eye next was something he never could have imagined.

Dennis blankly stared at the black sword embedded in the ground before him. Someone had thrown it, stopping Javier’s advance in his tracks.

Ah.

Dennis’s eyes widened, and the world regained its normal pace. The sound of the crowd murmuring in confusion and the referee shouting in panic reached his ears.

"Match suspended!!"

Dennis felt the strength leaving his body. He had thought Arsen acted solely out of duty, but the look on Arsen’s distorted face suggested there was more to it than that. Interfering in the middle of a martial arts tournament. Getting disqualified from the tournament was the least of the issues; there would likely be much bigger consequences afterward.

He couldn’t let him go—he should have been the one to stop this.

With this thought, Dennis glared at Javier standing over him, even as event staff rushed into the arena. Two of them hurriedly helped Dennis up.

"Let’s get you to the waiting room... no, the infirmary would be better."

Even as he was escorted by the staff, Dennis kept his eyes fixed on the two swords embedded in the arena. His consciousness was fading, but he refused to pass out. He pushed the two staff members off and insisted on walking out of the arena himself.

If he collapsed now, the victory would automatically be awarded to Javier Franco.

And so, Dennis, dripping blood, trudged toward the waiting room tunnel.

==

Maxime stood frozen in place, holding Baek-Ah in one hand, locked in an ungraceful stance that would have embarrassed him if anyone were watching. But he had no time to worry about the stares of others. His gaze was captured completely by a sword that had been thrown before he could act.

"Senior, was that just...?"

Christine, wide-eyed after witnessing what had happened, looked at Maxime in astonishment. Maxime lowered Baek-Ah. The audience’s eyes weren’t on him but on the jet-black sword embedded in the center of the arena. Charlotte, similarly in disbelief, had her eyes wide open.

"That sword..."

"I think I’ve seen it before. Isn’t that the black sword Theodora Bening used?"

"Hey, yeah! You’re right. But why is her sword stuck there in the arena?"

"Idiot, it’s there because someone threw it, obviously."

Why?

Maxime couldn’t find the words, his gaze fixed on the pitch-black sword in the arena. Could Theodora have sensed Javier’s murderous intent? But even if she had, why would she risk everything to interfere in the match...?

The murmurs among the crowd grew louder. Maxime noticed that the tournament staff were hurriedly rushing somewhere, with people hastily clearing the way. He caught sight of their anxious expressions as they passed by.

Are they going to bring Theodora in? Unconsciously, Maxime began to move. He had no time to think. Christine grabbed onto his sleeve, and Maxime paused to look back at her. She was holding onto him firmly, her expression serious. Maxime placed his hand over hers, intending to remove it when—

"Senior!"

Christine’s sharp voice brought Maxime back to reality. Christine held onto his hand tightly, grounding him. Their eyes met, and she spoke in a rare, angry tone, her eyebrows drawn low.

"Calm down. Where exactly do you think you’re going?"

"...I..."

Maxime’s shoulders trembled at Christine’s words. She let out a sigh.

"The captain will be fine. She’s not someone who can be taken down easily, and this tournament was practically created to make her the champion."

Christine’s words helped clear Maxime’s head. He took a deep breath, calming the rushing blood in his veins. Bitterly, he bit his lip, ashamed that he had almost let his emotions drive his actions. The taste of blood pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

There’s something more important to do right now.

"...Let’s go check on Dennis."

Christine finally sighed in relief when she heard Maxime’s words of clarity.

"That’s what we need to do first."

She quickly looked around, locating Charlotte. The atmosphere in the arena was growing chaotic.

"Senior."

At Christine’s call, Charlotte raised her head as though snapping out of a trance. Regret or guilt marred her expression. Christine felt a strange sense of empathy as she took Charlotte’s hand, her voice softening.

"Let’s go to the infirmary, quickly."

"...Yeah, let’s go."

Charlotte nodded weakly, rising as Christine held her hand. The murmurs in the stands grew even louder.

==

She had done it. In a way, it was liberating. Theodora, gazing at her sword, Black Wolf, lodged in the arena, thought as much. Had she left things as they were, Javier Franco would have certainly killed his opponent. Theodora could feel the vile bloodlust emanating from him. Though the crowd clearly didn’t understand her actions, Theodora paid them no mind.

Father... It must have been the Patriarch’s orders.

It was a filthy tactic. One she could never agree with. Just like the incident four years ago, during the winter finals, Leon Bening often preferred “natural assassinations.” However, unlike her past self, the pawn he’d used this time was fully aware of his actions.

Cold hatred welled up within her. In this tournament, each participant bore responsibility for their actions. Her father knew this well and thus tried to use the tournament as an excuse for murder. But it also meant that the responsibility for her own interference by throwing her sword fell entirely on her.

You failed.

A small smile crept onto Theodora’s face. Perhaps, for the first time, she had bested her father. Theodora felt a strange sensation, as though the blood was draining from her fingertips. A sense of freedom, or maybe the emptiness that followed? At the moment, it didn’t matter.

"...Lady Theodora."

A cautious voice came from behind her. Theodora turned, her expression hardening. The tournament staff, all of whom were affiliated with the Bening family, had entered the stands. They looked at her with troubled expressions. Though they were supposed to take her into custody and escort her back to headquarters, none dared to act disrespectfully toward her.

"For now, please follow us."

Theodora nodded at the staff member’s words, then turned her back on the arena and followed her escort. The tournament organizers were undoubtedly scrambling to report this to Leon Bening at this very moment.

According to the tournament’s rules, she would be disqualified. And it wasn’t just about disqualification; her future as a knight was at stake. Yet Theodora knew she would not be forced to withdraw from the tournament. Leon Bening would stop at nothing to ensure she emerged as the champion, even with this violation hanging over her.

Outside the arena, a carriage bearing the Bening family crest awaited her. Theodora instantly knew where it was meant to take her. A servant, apparently a retainer of the family, opened the carriage door and gestured for her to enter.

"My lady."

The retainer bowed deeply, but Theodora only regarded him with a cold stare.

"It hasn’t even been thirty minutes, and yet you’re here already?"

"The Count is greatly disappointed with your actions, my lady. Why would you do such a thing...?"

Theodora cut him off, stepping into the carriage without answering. The retainer hesitated, then closed the door and climbed onto the driver’s seat. She heard the door shut with a hollow thud to her left.

Calm down.

Theodora shook her head, then stared ahead. What was done, was done. Now, she would have to face the consequences. With her constant companion Black Wolf absent, she would have to face everything relying solely on herself.

After a short ride, the carriage arrived at a building that served as headquarters for the tournament organizers. The retainer opened the carriage door and bowed.

"I will lead you to the Count."

The servant quickened his pace, and Theodora followed, her face stoic. She was anxious to see how Leon Bening would respond to this open defiance. Eventually, she found herself at the door to his office.

"Come in."

The Count’s voice was as even as expected, giving no hint of anger or indifference. Whether he was furious that his plans had been ruined or felt nothing at all was impossible for Theodora to tell. She entered the room, and as soon as the door closed behind her, Leon Bening spoke. His first words were unexpected, bearing no relation to the current situation.

"What were you thinking?"

Leon Bening’s tone was cold, demanding an answer. But Theodora didn’t flinch, responding sharply.

"What were you thinking, trying to have him killed?"

"It was necessary, an unavoidable choice to secure victory for myself and for the Bening family. Surely you, Theodora, understand that much by now?"

"I have no desire to understand you or your intentions."

"The tournament will continue, regardless."

Leon Bening’s gaze was icy. Theodora bit her lip.

"The rules..."

"If you truly wish everything to proceed by the book, then I can arrange that. Along with the disbanding of your Raven Guard."

"You were the one who insisted that each individual is accountable for their actions in the tournament."

Leon Bening tilted his head.

"The rules that apply to me are not the same as the rules that apply to you, Theodora. Do you truly want to see where your little rebellion leads?"

Theodora remained silent, but Leon Bening continued, unaffected by her lack of response.

"All your actions will be overlooked. You will proceed as planned to the semi-final, and soon enough, this incident will fade from everyone’s memory."

Leon closed the folder he’d been reading with a loud snap.

"Don’t even think about forfeiting, Theodora. I don’t want to turn my daughter into an enemy."

"...I didn’t think you’d stoop so low."

Her voice trembled, but Leon merely shrugged.

"Just win. If you do as I say, you’ll get what you want. But if you ignore my warning again, daughter..."

Leon lowered his voice.

"I’ll leave it to your imagination what awaits you."

Theodora bit her lip. She hadn’t thrown Black Wolf for this—to listen to her father’s threats again. She had acted to break free from the shackles of her father.

I’ll win. But afterward, you’ll regret making me the champion.

"...If I win,"

She said, her voice steady but laced with defiance.

"Do you really think things will go as you wish?"

Leon regarded her for a moment. The frightened little girl was gone, replaced by a platinum hawk seeking freedom from her gilded cage.

Leon Bening shook his head, seeing the need to lock that bird away again. And he knew exactly where to find the key.

"The moment you reach the final, the tournament will already be over, Theodora."

Leon’s words were loaded with meaning. Not wanting to hear any more, Theodora turned and left his office. Once she was gone, he muttered the rest of his message to her empty seat.

"Because your opponent will forfeit the final… or simply not show up."