Crimson current and pure white current clashed in midair.

Crackle!

A blinding burst of sparks flared along the collision plane.

The balance tipped instantly—to his side.

It was only natural.

Even with Heavenly Lightning Conduction and two relentless weeks of daily training, he still couldn’t bridge the gap born of bloodline and years of mastery.

The crimson current surged closer.

Heat burned across his palms.

“Kyrie!”

Nereus shouted in a voice thick with fury and passion, thrusting his left hand forward.

The pressure doubled.

The ground around them hissed and split, stones and dirt scattering hard enough to strike Kyrie’s face.

“I didn’t need Trisan’s damn Elixirs! I’m a scion of a noble branch line! I just needed to beat you!”

He raged like a wounded beast.

The crimson current was nearly upon Kyrie’s hands now—close enough to knock him unconscious at any moment.

“If that’s true, then why’d you take them?”

But he didn’t fall.

“You already know it—Trisan’s connection with Lady Andromeda, and my connection with her!”

Heavenly Lightning Conduction wasn’t just raw output—it encompassed control and endurance both.

No matter how fiercely Nereus’s current tried to invade, Kyrie’s body was already saturated with his own white voltage.

It was like holding steady through turbulence.

“If you wanted to pretend ignorance, you shouldn’t have accepted a thing. Then I might’ve been glad to fight you honestly!”

“Shut up, you one-eyed bastard!”

“You’ve got two eyes, yet you can’t see a damn thing!”

He endured—heat scorching every muscle, pain prickling through every nerve—gritting his teeth until the moment came.

“Sir! Sir Kyrie!”

The reward arrived swiftly.

“What—the 7th Century? When!?”

Through Bio Radar, Kyrie saw Nereus’s adjutant frozen in shock.

The ship was already drifting away from the pier, rocking toward mid-river.

“Climb aboard!”

Jo and the soldiers threw down ropes and ladders.

“By order of Sir Kyrie! The 7th Century will embark immediately!”

Jo shouted toward the heavens, his voice cutting through every ear like a blade.

“Waaah!”
“For victory!”
“Follow Sir Kyrie’s command!”

The 7th Century soldiers turned away from their standoff with the 1st and sprinted for the ship.

“What? Wh—what are you doing!?”
“Stop them!”
“It’s dangerous! We’re in heavy armor—!”

The 1st Century’s adjutant was a capable officer. He assessed the situation instantly and barked orders, but his men were in no position to obey.

“My legs—stuck!”
“Don’t go in the water! You can’t swim in chainmail!”

Unlike Kyrie’s lightly equipped troops, Nereus’s men wore chain and plate—some even in full suits of armor.

“Help! I’m sinking!”
“My leg’s caught!”

In the mud and river beyond the pier, they were helpless.

Meanwhile, Kyrie’s men scaled the ropes easily; the more agile simply swam.

The 7th Century’s ship began moving steadily toward the river’s center.

“Sir Kyrie!”

Jo shouted desperately from the deck.

“Kyrie!”

Nereus gathered lightning into his right hand as well.

Crackle!

Twin bolts doubled the voltage, searing the air toward Kyrie.

He drew upon half his remaining mana in an instant.

Crackle!

An electrifying rush raced down his spine, from crown to nape.

Before, he couldn’t even attempt this without frying his nerves—but not now.

He unleashed it all in one crashing surge.

Thoom!

The white current surged outward, sweeping Nereus’s crimson bolts aside like a wave breaking through the tide.

Nereus crossed his arms and braced himself.

“...Hah.”

Kyrie seized the opening—disengaged the current, pivoted, and sprinted.

The pier to the ship was a long stretch, but with Thunder Step, it was nothing.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

Nereus charged after him.

“Stop! Settle this here!”

Kyrie glanced back at his face.

“Graduation’s soon, isn’t it?”

The expression twisted in humiliation and self-reproach more than anger.

Kyrie had focused only on the entrance exam’s top rank, even knowing about Trisan’s and Nereus’s schemes.

Nereus had fought him on both fronts—merit and manipulation.

That was the difference between them.

Between the first and second place.

Kyrie braced to launch another Thunder Step.

Whizz!

A flaming arrow streaked overhead.

Fire arrow?

It struck the sail—flames spreading instantly.

“Damn it!”

He looked back toward Nereus’s soldiers.

“Huh?”

None of them held bows.

Cadet Blue Knight Karl nearly suffered neural burnout despite not even using lightning arts.

No, no, no. I can’t waste this chance!

The greenskins he had sent had attacked not Kyrie, but Nereus—the worst possible outcome.

He’d ended up exhausting the only rival who could truly match Kyrie.

I have to eliminate Kyrie. I don’t need first place myself. I just need to make sure he’s not the first to return. Burn the ship—yes. Then he’ll be stuck wallowing in the mud just like me!

Karl focused on one thing alone—
Dragging Kyrie down.

“Abandon the cannons. Leave the wagons. Sell off anything heavy to the village chief if you must.”

He lightened his troops’ load.

“Move fast. Target: the pier.”

Armed only with essentials, they marched.

Thanks to that, Karl managed to catch up to Kyrie and Nereus, who were competing for the lead.

“Fire!”

Flaming arrows shot skyward.

“If I can’t go, neither can you, Kyrie!”

Fwoosh!

The ship’s sail burst into flame.

It was a medium sailing ship, its main propulsion the sails. With them burning, it was as good as crippled.

And the first to react wasn’t Kyrie, nor even Jo—

“You bastard!”

It was Nereus, roaring with fury.

Another one meddling in my fight.

He’d already been furious once over Trisan’s ploys—

Then why did that bastard send greenskins after me?

—and twice over Karl’s interference.

The ship can’t burn. I planned to seize it myself. Without it, I’ll be dragging wagons and cannons through the muck again.

Now, the third and worst cause of his anger blazed before him.

“Load the cannons! Whoever they are—don’t leave a single one alive!”

The violent, impulsive Blue Knight didn’t bother to ask who the enemy was before ordering artillery fire.

Not that it would’ve changed anything.

“Ready to fire!”

At his command, his adjutant obeyed immediately.

Within moments, ballistae were unloaded from wagons and fitted with massive bolts.

“Fire!”

Thwack!

Kyrie, of course, didn’t stand idle.

“Put out the flames! Lower the sails! I don’t care if we can’t move yet!”

His pragmatic instinct for minimizing loss shone brightest in disaster.

“Sir Kyrie’s orders! Lower any sail not yet burning! Douse it before the flames spread!”

Jo obeyed without hesitation.

“But sir, if we slow down, they might catch us!” one squad leader protested.

A fair concern—Nereus’s soldiers still half-swam toward the ship, stripping armor as they went.

If they slowed now, the ship could be seized.

“If the sail burns, it’s all over. Sir Kyrie’s orders stand—we follow them.”

“Yes, sir!”

The trust built over the past ten days outweighed every doubt.

Even if it meant slogging through mud again, they would follow Kyrie’s word without question.

Karl’s attack didn’t last long.

Ballista bolts were powerful enough to wound even ogres.

Even a Blue Knight couldn’t survive a direct hit.

And when Kyrie started hurling lightning-charged javelins in return, Karl and his 3rd Century had no choice but to retreat.

Still, the ship was burning.

“Put it out!”
“Douse the flames!”

Kyrie and Nereus reached the same conclusion—from reason and emotion alike.

Save the ship first.

Both knew that a knight’s honor wasn’t in shouting orders from behind—it was in wielding a blade at the front.

So the two Blue Knights grabbed buckets, filled them, and dashed across the deck themselves.

By dawn’s first light—

“We’re alive.”
“Barely.”

Kyrie and Nereus lay side by side on the scorched deck, staring up at the fading stars.

“Lord of Thunder’s Roar…”

The heavens felt distant.

Above, the stars shone indifferently, unaware of the blood and struggle below.

Minutes passed.

“Remember that time at the training school?”

“The direct-line brat?”

Nereus spoke first.

“Yeah.”

“Of course I remember. I’ve never met another direct-line kid that pathetic.”

Kyrie gave a short snort.

When he’d first entered the academy from the orphanage, a direct-line noble had ruled the trainees.

That boy had recently lost to Nereus in a sword duel.

Afterward, he and his cronies beat Nereus daily—and demanded Kyrie join in.

“Hit him too.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I said no.”

Kyrie had grown up despised for his low birth and mixed blood. He’d had enough of bullying.

“Then you’ll get the same beating.”

Refusal meant isolation and torment.

“Hey, one-eye.”
“What?”
“Pants-pisser.”
“You look like you can fight. Want to take those bastards down together?”

They did.

They wiped out the bullies and their pack.

“You’re not bad. Name?”
“Kyrie. Kyrie of Astrios.”
“Nereus. Nereus of Tonatio Astrios.”

A rivalry ten years long began as an alliance.

Those were the days.

“Sir Knights?”

The ship’s captain approached Kyrie’s feet.

“What is it?”

Kyrie returned to the present.

“Thanks to your help, we avoided sinking, but the sail’s too damaged. Until we replace it, we’ll have to row. We don’t have enough crew for that—may I borrow some soldiers?”

The captain bowed respectfully.

Before his head even rose again, Kyrie had already finished thinking.

If I fight Nereus again now, the ship could be destroyed for real.

First—
He only wanted a duel. He doesn’t care about the politics between Trisan and Lady Andromeda.

Second—
But I didn’t expect sabotage to reach the level of arson. If Trisan ordered that, he’s taking me seriously as a threat. I’ll have to hit back somehow, or I’ll just keep getting cornered—and worst of all, Andromeda might start doubting my capability.

Third—
Direct confrontation is out of my league right now. Better to inconvenience him. What would trouble him most…? The Elixir of Hundred Thunders, maybe.

Fourth—

“Nereus.”

He called out while the captain still stood frozen.

“What?”

Nereus turned toward him.

“Let’s keep fighting.”

“What?”

The look on his face wasn’t confusion at the words themselves—it was now?

“I’d be glad to—”

He barely started to grin before—

“I mean from now on.”

“From now on?”

Kyrie’s blue left eye gleamed with utter sincerity.

“This entrance trial—we’re going to win by a landslide. Even if rowing slows us down, we’ll still beat anyone walking back.”

“And?”

“I’ll take first. You’ll take second. We’ll both enter the Border Patrol Corps together. It’s rare for the academy’s top two to end up in the same division, but with our score gap, they won’t have a choice.”

“I don’t care about this division. Trisan just told me to fight you here—”

“I’m going to be adopted. The Border Patrol has the highest adoption rate. That’ll put me above you in the family hierarchy. And after a few bottles of Elixir of Hundred Thunders, I’ll surpass you in lightning arts too.”

“...!”

Nereus’s face froze as if he’d been struck.

“You said it yourself—graduation. Right. The academy’s over. The grades are done. But the work we’ve built for ten years isn’t. I’m going higher. You come too. Let’s keep fighting—see who climbs farther, who climbs higher.”

His heart pounded—harder than in battle.

“...Trisan won’t sit still for that.”

He spoke reflexively, already half agreeing.

“I’ve got plans for him.”

Kyrie allowed himself a faint, knowing smile.

Postpone my duel with Nereus. Let him and the third knight clash instead—and make Trisan’s life miserable. That’s the best outcome for now.

Suppressing the urge to smirk, he said,

“You know who attacked us just now, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then you know whose fault it is.”

“You’re saying I should pin it on him?”

Nereus’s tone bristled with pride, unwilling to stoop to deceit.

“I’m saying—let’s state the facts. If calling truth ‘truth’ is virtue, then calling falsehood ‘false’ must be virtue too.”

Kyrie’s tongue moved like a blade.

His swordsmanship had a sixty-percent win rate.

This time, too, he looked ready to win.

Chapter 15

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