This time, it was Mile who initiated the attack with the Evening Dress Mask... It was a high-speed battle.
Closing the distance in an instant, the mock sword was swiftly driven into the opponent's left side. The Earl parried it with his own sword, deflecting it upwards. Mile then brought down the deflected sword in a diagonal slash.
What followed was a fierce exchange of blows.
However, it was not a chaotic melee like the battle with Glen, where they ran around and moved wildly. The Earl chose a straightforward, dignified duel as a knight, and Mile had to follow suit.
A fierce exchange of blows in one spot without much movement. It seemed disadvantageous for a hunter who excelled in mobility, but it didn't matter to Mile. Her sword skills as a hunter were poor to begin with, so the style of battle made little difference. Her strengths were speed and power, and that was all.
As the prolonged exchange of blows continued, the Earl began to feel increasingly anxious.
It was because his opponent's technique was extremely poor.
A swordsman with a certain level of skill can hardly win against a very skilled swordsman. It's nearly impossible to beat someone who surpasses you in technique, speed, and judgment, and who can read your every move.
However, amateurs can make unexpected moves. Judgments that are unthinkable in common sense, sword strokes that a sane person would never choose. The probability of winning is low due to inferior technique and speed, but there is always a chance of landing an unexpected blow, making them unpredictable and nerve-wracking opponents for veterans.
But this opponent wielded amateurish swords with speed and power that surpassed even seasoned fighters.
It was dangerous. An incredibly dangerous opponent.
A moment's lapse in concentration could result in a fatal wound, and the powerful, high-speed continuous attacks were completely unpredictable. The Earl had to maintain full concentration, which was extremely exhausting.
Normally, one would quickly finish off a dangerous amateur with a single blow. But no matter how many attacks he launched, they didn't land. They were either dodged, blocked, or deflected, and the follow-up actions always led to a counterattack. The battle continued indefinitely with no end in sight. The Earl gradually grew more fatigued and anxious.
(If this continues, it will be a draw... No, is it really a draw?
Is this woman really giving it her all?
With that reaction speed to deflect my attacks so calmly, couldn't she launch a faster counterattack?
Moreover, she shows no signs of fatigue or anxiety.
Could it be... Could it be that she's toying with me... No, that's ridiculous, it can't be!)
Anxiety and fatigue led to disarray in his sword movements, creating openings.
*Clang*
"Ugh..."
Struck near the base of the blade, the Earl dropped his sword in a daze.
He wasn't knocked back. It was a blow of a different caliber, a single strike of unprecedented speed and weight that made him drop his sword. It was forced out of his hand.
The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.
As a knight, what a disgrace. What a humiliation.
His face flushed and his arm trembling uncontrollably.
"Pick it up quickly."
"What...?"
Instead of declaring victory and raising a triumphant cheer, ...
It was too much to mock.
Normally, one would kick the mock sword away and leave, but this time, he couldn't do that.
This battle was for the life of his precious daughter. He couldn't let her continue the dangerous hunter's life. Absolutely not.
He didn't doubt his son's victory, but even a one in a thousand or one in ten thousand chance of endangering his daughter's life couldn't be ignored. No matter how much he would embarrass himself in front of his subordinates and the people, as long as there was any chance of victory, he couldn't give up the fight.
The Earl picked up his sword and took his stance again.
And thirty minutes later.
There was the Earl of Austin, on his hands and knees on the ground.
He had reached his limit. He had no strength left to stand or even to grip his sword.
A complete defeat. There were no other words to describe it.
"Shall we call it my victory, then?"
In response to Mile's confirmation, the Earl nodded silently.
As Mile returned to the waiting area, the Earl, supported by his subordinates, returned to the opposite waiting area, greeted by loud applause and cheers.
No one laughed at the Earl.
The Earl was strong. Even B-rank, no, A-rank hunters might not have been able to defeat him. It was just that his opponent was too formidable.
Amidst the generous applause, the Earl's face was twisted.
He felt no anger or hatred towards his opponent. On the contrary, he admired her strength despite her physique. Her level of skill, which seemed to have received only a brief period of proper training, was remarkable. The effort of self-training and relentless self-improvement was truly commendable.
The Earl's anger was directed at his own inadequacy and self-loathing for not being able to ensure his daughter's safety.
Finally, the Earl returned to the waiting area and told his trusted son,
"Win at all costs. Never let your guard down."
"Understood!"
And so, the eldest son of the Austin family, Weylin von Austin, prepared to face his beloved sister, determined to bring her back home.
Weylin was regretful.
After three sons, Mavis was finally born into the Austin family.
She was doted on by her parents and grandparents, and her three older brothers doted on her even more.
Raised as a princess of the Austin family, Mavis, seeing her three older brothers training in swordsmanship, said she wanted to do it too.
Thinking she didn't want to be left out, he let her practice in form, but she took it seriously and continued with remarkable talent, surprising her three brothers. To protect her from potential dangers, they occasionally taught her necessary self-defense skills during their training sessions. When Mavis came to Weylin alone, saying, "Brother, I want to train with you," he couldn't turn her away and took advantage of his position as the eldest to train with her privately. ... It was much later that he learned she had been training three times as much with her younger brothers.
Her face, filled with admiration as she watched him and her brothers at their knighthood ceremonies, made their joy as knights multiply. He thought her admiration was directed at them as knights.
But who would have thought that her admiration was for the profession of 'knight' itself, and that she dreamed of becoming one?
... It was a mistake. If he had noticed it earlier, he might have redirected her interests or at least prevented her from running away. It was a big mistake.
But this time, he wouldn't fail.
He would definitely bring Mavis back home. For the sake of the eldest son of the Austin family.
"I'll borrow your chest, Big Brother."
The siblings faced each other in the center of the arena.
"It's been eight months since we last sparred...
But today, I can't go easy on you. I'll be careful not to hurt you, but it might be a bit painful. Consider it a punishment for running away, so bear with it."
Mavis smiled wryly at Weylin's words.
"Big Brother, I'm not a child anymore. C-rank Hunter 'Red Vow' Leader, Mavis. Watch my strength!"
With that, Mavis drew her mock sword. Weylin followed suit.