A pillar of high-heat, high-pressure lightning traced a path like the trunk of a massive thorn tree and fell straight onto Epichus’s head.

Flash—!

The moment lasted less than a second, but it burned into the retinas of those watching for ten.

It would remain in memory for ten years, perhaps longer.

Guided Strike.

Nereus half-rose without noticing, then bit his lip and sat back down.

It was nearly as thick as an actual sky-called Lightning. If not for seeing the brain-bolts earlier, I could have mistaken it.

Normally, a Guided Strike produced lightning thinner and weaker than a true Sky Bolt.

How much did he compress it? No—how much can he compress now?

But the lightning Kyrie had drawn was thick as living timber.

“You’ve grown stronger.”

Nereus smiled like a hunting animal.

Kyrie had kept their promise.

Do not be satisfied with being overall top. I will not be satisfied with being top of lightning arts either.

After Infused Projectile, now Guided Strike.

Kyrie had shown Nereus he was no longer behind in lightning arts.

I’ll have to restudy crossing, command, and territory control. And of course, continue practicing both lightning arts and sword.

Then Nereus could not fall behind.

He would continue fighting Kyrie.

“Kyrie! Kyrie! Kyrie!”

Blue Knights all around the arena chanted his name.

“Wait—Kyrie fell!”

“What?”

Someone pointed toward the arena floor.

Fell?

From seats below Nereus—

Frey jolted upright, staring hard.

Dust billowed where Epichus’s brain-bolts had struck, making visibility poor.

Crackle—

The sound of life-sense radar activation flickered through the air.

Crackle.

Frey activated his own. A white silhouette appeared.

Kyrie was down on one knee.

No.

A barrage of ten brain-bolts would not leave even ash of an ordinary person.

Even an Astreios Blue Knight’s heart might stop.

But Kyrie did not bow his head.

He had not used a desperate mutual kill technique.

So that was all calculated!

Frey realized in that instant.

He intended to finish with Guided Strike from the beginning. If it succeeded, the duel ends instantly! He pretended to rely on his sword to force close-range, then allowed himself to be driven back, provoking Epichus into using his high-output ranged art. And when Epichus shifted from physical augmentation to emission, his durability dropped—and Kyrie struck.

This duel had been Kyrie’s from the start.

“Hah…”

Kyrie staggered, but stood.

“He’s standing! Kyrie endured it!”

Frey jumped up, fist raised.

As expected of our top. Our pinnacle!

The heir he would guard was strong.

As escort knight, it was deeply reassuring.

His crescent-shaped eyes curved into a bright smile.

Across the arena—Prochus was also smiling.

We’re screwed.

Though his meaning was the exact opposite.

In the section where Trisan and the adopted heirs sat—

“Epichus! Get up!”

“Pointless.”

“If you’re going to say something so defeatist, shut up!”

“You shut up. There’s a limit to delusion. How could he endure a technique he can’t even use himself?”

“……”

Prochus felt like a condemned criminal.

“Prochus,”

“Y-Yes!”

Trisan called his name.

“That was Guided Strike.”

“Yes.”

“A near-Sky Bolt.”

“Yes.”

Prochus would have preferred to be cursed at.

Blue Knights lived simply, but they were not stupid.

A Lightning called from the heavens is the symbol of House Astreios itself.

Ending the duel with Guided Strike carried heavy implications.

He may be adopted, but he just declared he represents the main bloodline. And he succeeded.

Epichus had lost.

With this duel, Kyrie had announced the path of his political ascent to every Blue Knight in the stronghold.

We’re dead.

Prochus felt his spine freeze.

Their reputation had already been terrible.

Now they had lost to a knight who had been one for only a few months.

They were useless.

We’ll lose everything.

The grand residence, the monthly gold, the elixirs provided regularly, and soon the gauntlet meant to amplify Intimidation.

Why us?

If anyone who had suffered under them heard that thought, they would have wanted to beat him to death.

Because Trisan ordered it all…!

The Saks cadet family was low-ranked in the capital’s hierarchy.

Their most successful relative was Fortrios, commander of the outer wall garrison.

But the outer garrison was the lowest of the four capital forces.

They were neither near the main bloodline like the personal guard nor socially connected like the inner palace guard, nor influential like the mounted patrols of outer cities.

They collected tariffs from merchants. That was all.

To escape, they needed advancement.

To stand out among similar fighters, they had to do anything.

We did all the dirty work—and now we’ll be discarded. No. Never.

Prochus ground his teeth.

I’ll kill him somehow.

His braided hair rose with sparks of fury.

Even if everything falls on me and I’m exiled to the border—

He looked up at Trisan.

“My lord.”

He sent a signal that only involved parties would understand.

Take care of my younger brother.

Not that he believed Trisan would.

Kyrie accepted the Thunderblade’s scabbard from a soldier and returned to the waiting room.

I thought I was going to die.

His entire nervous system throbbed with overload.

Adopted heir or not, he was stronger than I expected. I must have really been shaken and careless on that dock. Good thing I didn’t use Sky Bolt. That would have been seen as a threat and gotten me thrown to a dangerous front line.

The moment he dispelled the lightning art, his legs almost gave out.

I endured the brain-bolts well. Increased mana and better control helped raise my durability. I won’t die easily from electric shock anymore. But using Guided Strike here was a mistake. Compression took too long. It’s not a technique for one-on-one unless I can restrain the opponent or speed up casting.

Even while exhausted, he reviewed the fight—strengths and weaknesses.

“My lord! Congratulations!”

Joy rushed in, grabbed his hand, and bounced.

“To see lightning fall from the sky and that arrogant adopted heir collapse—if only our soldiers could have seen! It was glorious!”

His face was shining with pure admiration.

“Adjutant. Watch your words. If they wake up angry at a younger boy, we’ll have trouble.”

Kyrie felt both warmth and relief.

I really won.

He had blocked Trisan’s scheme.

Yes. A clean victory.

There would be many more attempts, but he had crossed one blade-edge safely.

Whaack!

“Kyrie!”

“That was incredible!”

“As expected of our top!”

“That’s my little brother!”

Reflection time ended immediately.

“Huh?”

Peers, seniors, and all manner of familiar knights stormed the waiting room, lifted Kyrie into the air, tossed him up and down, and dragged him straight toward a tavern.

“My lady, my lady!”

“I don’t know that man!”

“Sis! Sis!”

“I don’t know him either!”

“Noona! You really can’t. I’ll come home later. See you at the palace!”

Kyrie used all his strength to stop Andromeda from following.

No matter how informal the hierarchy, the Sub-Lord could not go drinking in the street.

Dawn after the rain stopped.

Kyrie walked toward the Sub-Lord’s Palace.

Drunk knights preferred the narrow path between administrative buildings instead of the central grand stairs.

Those buildings were empty at night; even if one stumbled drunkenly, no one saw.

“Kyrie.”

Because there were no witnesses.

Prochus knew that perfectly.

He saw Kyrie.

Drunk.

One eye covered by the usual eyepatch, the other half-closed.

Ching.

He drew his sword.

He didn’t apply lightning. No need to show light.

Die in the dark.

Rumble—

Prochus ran along the railing of the narrow stair like a cat.

The blade aimed straight at Kyrie’s heart.

As he leapt down the remaining ten meters—

Life-sense radar?

Whumm—

A tingling sensation passed as he entered the radar field.

Prochus and Epichus’s specialty was Intimidation—an electromagnetic technique. They were sensitive to other electromagnetic fields.

Doesn’t matter!

Whether Kyrie kept life-sense active constantly or sensed the attack now didn’t matter.

Either was unbelievable—but the outcome was already decided.

I saw earlier. Kyrie can’t cast Guided Strike this fast!

Kyrie couldn’t down Prochus instantly.

Prochus could pierce Kyrie’s heart instantly.

Prochus saw Kyrie’s face at the final moment.

What—

The expression on that fierce, enigmatic face was not fear.

But irritation.

A brief, bored irritation in that blue eye, as if saying:

Is that all?

He knew?

The next moment Prochus could not think at all.

Flash—!

Kyrie called down a true Sky Bolt through the divine sigil.

【Sky Bolt (00:23:59:59)】

Kyrie did not look irritated for that reason.

What the—what?! What?!

He was filled with fear and shock.

Trisan. So you’ll go this far? You’ll discard even the bare minimum of knighthood? Damn it. Now I can’t even drink water without wondering if it’s poisoned. I’ll have to make Frey taste it first. Also—did anyone see me use Sky Bolt? If someone reports it upward, they’ll send me to the worst front…

If Prochus had known that, he would have been the one irritated.

This might actually be for the best.

But Kyrie’s face brightened quickly.

In that case—

There were only a few days left to complete the first mandatory objective of Stage 2.

Kyrie turned his gaze.

Lightning crackled over the ground where it had struck.

Prochus twitched on the floor.

Kyrie hefted the unconscious Prochus over his shoulder and continued up the stairs.

What’s with that ugly thing you dragged in?

Ugly things still have their uses, don’t they?

Andromeda clicked her tongue when her drunken younger brother returned at dawn carrying something like a half-burned, unconscious dog-beast.

Fair.

Two days later.

A secret basement beneath the Astreios main stronghold.

“You look pleased.”

“How could I not?”

Andromeda and Trisan met again.

“As promised, vacate the residence. The budget and elixirs given to those two are Kyrie’s now.”

“Very well.”

“And one more thing. Do you know who has Prochus right now?”

Andromeda smiled, not even bothering to hide her intent.

It was a smile that crackled like lightning with the message:

I will break you.

“…Now I see.”

Even Trisan shivered.

“Discard those two. They weren’t useful for reputation anyway. Let the common knights handle the filth.”

“Not many Blue Knights eager to stain their names like that. Shame.”

“Be grateful it ends at shame. I could make you tragic too.”

But Trisan was a seasoned adopted heir of Astreios Central.

“And the price for not letting that happen?”

Andromeda had been waiting.

“The thread you planted in the southern Border Patrol. Pull it.”

“You mean I shouldn’t interfere with your brother’s assignments?”

“Don’t ask. Just obey. Loser.”

“Fine.”

Trisan nodded easily.

If an assassination attempt could be resolved by cutting loose those two, it was a cheap price.

Why make such a stupid move? Or perhaps he was simply stupid.

They were pawns he meant to discard anyway.

If Andromeda discarded them for him, it was almost convenient.

Except—

Andromeda had no intention of discarding them.

Chapter 47

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