Traysan’s mustache trembled.

He’d been aiming for me from the start?

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this shocked.

He’s spewing nonsense!

What was certain was that this shock couldn’t even be compared to when Oceanos died.

“……You dare say you targeted Senior Adopted Heir Traysan, spokesman of all adopted heirs and cadet lines? Why?”

A Blue Knight shouted the question.

Traysan wanted to shut his mouth.

["I’m House Astreos too. If you’re born a man, shouldn’t you sit at the seat beneath only one and above ten thousand at least once?"]

As if he’d been waiting for it, Kyrie loosed a Lion’s Roar.

["Like lightning, forever! Even if I live only a single day—even if I break without ever winning—I want a life worth remembering!"]

It was a voice loud enough that tens of thousands of soldiers and hundreds of Blue Knights gathered on this battlefield could all hear it.

No.

Traysan ground his teeth.

He didn’t even know what expression he was wearing right now.

If this continues, every logic I built collapses.

It had been a perfect plan.

There had been gambles, but it had succeeded in the end.

He had built the logic that Andromeda, for her own profit, had joined hands with another house and spread mutated monsters.

He had built the justification that she had massacred the people and defied the Manseong Church.

If she’d only massacred the people, she’d have been nothing but a harsh ruler. If she’d only defied the Manseong Church, it could be said she stood against a church that would seize any excuse to nitpick the family’s autonomy.

The key was that she had made enemies of both.

She did not look down, and she did not serve above.

He stripped away her qualification as a ruler who stands over others.

A supreme cause even the Patriarch could not defy.

That was how he had thrown Andromeda into the Grand Cathedral Underground.

Now all he had to do was obtain Rikenta’s princess, Erica.

In exchange for survival, match stories with Erica, then use her testimony as evidence and have Andromeda excommunicated in the Manseong Church’s Grand Cathedral court, and it would be over.

That entire plan was shaking from the roots up.

["Then come out. Come out and draw your sword. Great Senior Adopted Heir, Elder Brother Traysan—this youngest wants to challenge you."]

With only a few words, Kyrie was trying to make this challenge into something unrelated to Andromeda.

It was bullshit.

Erica, whom Kyrie had with him right now; the fact Kyrie had fought Spiramentaon’s governor Gracus and yet hadn’t suffered political backlash; all the elixirs Kyrie had swallowed; the reason Kyrie could become an adopted heir; the patronage stretching back to his Academy days.

All of it was tied to Andromeda.

But Traysan couldn’t snap back, “Stop talking bullshit.”

It wasn’t because the words were too harsh to come from a Senior Adopted Heir’s mouth.

“Elder Brother.”

Urmes of the Royal Guard looked up at Traysan.

Of course we believe you will fight.

That was what his eyes said, calm and certain.

Kill that youngest bastard.

Nothing changes. You win, and you pin him as a criminal. That’s all, isn’t it?

Nicolaos and Chermidon of the Light Cavalry.

That brat is digging his own grave.

Burn him slow. Let us watch him scream that Andromeda ordered everything while his blood boils and evaporates!

Bataos and Sirmines of the Outer City Guard.

Not a bad move.

Scipio of the Mounted Patrol.

It’s time to avenge Acto.

Even Silvanus of the Goldcoin Brigade.

All his younger siblings sent him looks as if it were only natural that Traysan would fight.

“Traysan!”

Even the soldiers did.

“Traysan! Traysan! Traysan!”

“Senior Adopted Heir! Senior Adopted Heir! Senior Adopted Heir!”

“Spokesman of all cadet lines and adopted heirs!”

They slammed spear shafts into the ground and beat shields with the weights of their throwing nets as they shouted.

“Victory!”

“A victory worth remembering!”

“A victory the Dreaming Thunder Star will witness!”

The more grand the soldiers’ voices became, the smaller Traysan felt inside.

With disgust, Traysan glared at Kyrie.

My victory originally existed regardless of winning or losing.

The eyepatch covering his right eye looked even more dreadful today.

Like a black hole that swallowed all stars.

Not anymore.

With that pitch-black eyepatch, Kyrie had covered Traysan’s truth, and with those blue eyes blazing like candle flames, he had stolen the hearts of all the people beneath the Patriarch.

I have to fight him and win—only then can I win.

Just as Traysan himself had said, Traysan’s victory existed independently of the battle’s outcome.

If he won, he was a hero who shattered the wicked former Sub-patriarch’s conspiracy.

If he lost, then he had been pushed back by the wicked former Sub-patriarch and her faction—so he would be a hero who would return to challenge again with the Manseong Church, the provincial governors, and the cadet lines giving him full support.

With only a few words, Kyrie smashed the framework Traysan had stacked up.

Those words had, of course, no logic, no ethics, no law, no morality.

If this were a family ruled by logic and ethics, by law and morality, he could have barked, “Stop spouting nonsense,” and driven the soldiers on.

But.

Traysan couldn’t.

Because he was House Astreos.

[Like lightning, forever—live a life worth remembering.]

It was House Astreos’s greatest cause, one even the Patriarch was subordinate to.

A family where the stronger Blue Knight is loved more by the Stellar Seats, and therefore his words and actions become cosmic justice.

House Astreos’s seat beneath only one and above ten thousand had to shoulder House Astreos’s cause with responsibility smaller than exactly one person.

But!

If Kyrie were weak, he could have left it to subordinate Blue Knights.

Kyrie had defeated Epicus, defeated Erica, defeated Gracus, defeated the three-man team, and even defeated Planetary Seat Magnus.

B-but!

If Kyrie’s position were insignificant, he could have left it to his younger siblings.

Kyrie was an adopted heir, the acting baron of the Barony of Helix, and the temporary governor and Imperator of Spiramentaon, boasting a population of one million.

A ruler who went down with one hundred and came back with an army one hundred times that—ten thousand.

Traysan felt the Patriarch’s gaze from above, watching him.

It felt as if he could hear the Patriarch—wearing a Platinum Mask and draped in a trailing Ceremonial Robe—bursting into laughter.

He had never once imagined he might lose if they fought.

He was Senior Adopted Heir Traysan.

The problem was that Kyrie surely had some kind of countermeasure.

And Traysan didn’t know what Kyrie’s countermeasure was.

I dismounted and walked forward.

There was no trump card worthy of being called a trick.

I had only left myself a single move.

My vision kept going distant, then returning, over and over.

A head-on duel with the great house’s Senior Adopted Heir.

No sane person would ever do it.

It made me want to sigh at my own stupidity and lack of sense.

Irrationality, illogic, emotionalism, moodiness.

The very image of the Blue Knight I despised.

That violent, hasty superhuman was here.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps rang out.

Royal Guards split left and right and opened a path.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps rang out.

Our soldiers also fell back, making space behind us.

On the Bio-radar, I caught a glimpse of the army of the three-man team’s second member that had been charging in from the rear—stopping.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps rang out.

Traysan walked out from among the Royal Guards.

Slightly wavy brown hair fluttered handsomely in the wind, and his oiled, groomed mustache rose at an artistic angle.

Overall, he had a passionate yet gentle impression, but his eyes—like blue lightning—were flashing with the ferocity of House Astreos blood.

I felt it instinctively.

Strong.

Truly strong.

Strong enough to have beaten Andromeda—army or not.

It felt like I’d lose before even fighting, so I forced my gaze away.

Traysan’s cloak caught my eye.

It was the same blue as mine.

“Your cloak is stylish, Elder Brother.”

I forced my mouth open because it felt like I might faint.

“I couldn’t stand the idea of you being the only one with something that expensive. Since I was ordering, I ordered mine too.”

Traysan ground his teeth.

It seemed I’d only made his temper worse for no reason.

He undid his cloak and handed it to a Blue Knight who had been attending him.

“Aren’t you taking yours off?”

“It has a useful enchantment on it.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to burn that expensive cloak with my own hands.”

“Then I’ll revive in the flames.”

Trading a few lines like that loosened my nerves, at least a little.

Thankfully, I could draw my sword without my hands shaking.

I leveled the Star-Sword.

“That?”

Traysan lifted his brows for a moment at my sword.

A Manseong Church priest mixed among the Royal Guard walked out between us.

“Glory to the victor, mercy to the defeated. Though they are not visible here, countless stars shining in their places, and the Dreaming Thunder Star, shall bear witness to this duel.”

While he recited the duel’s words, I drew up mana and set my combat state.

Nerve Acceleration and Physical Reinforcement were a given.

Saaaaa.

Along with it, an energy different from lightning—existing as pure mana within my heart—flowed out, ran along my blood vessels, and spread through my body.

Unlike lightning, the sensation of it seeping directly into bone and muscle, ligament and skin was bizarre.

“Like lightning, forever.”

“A contest worth remembering.”

We took our sword salute and glared at each other.

Rumble!

I stepped Thunder-Step.

Kyrie surged in, closing dozens of meters with a single stomp.

Pajijijijik!

From the translucent Star-Sword, constellation-like lightning blazed with a chilling brilliance.

Heat Wave.

House Astreos’s strongest standard sword-charge flew in toward Traysan’s heart.

Traysan didn’t blink.

He didn’t step Thunder-Step, and he didn’t even raise his sword.

“Strike.”

He only murmured indifferently.

All around Astrion was filled with thunderclouds gathered by countless Blue Knights.

From the largest of those thunderclouds, a lightning strike of ultra-high pressure fell.

Flash!

Power that would kill even a Planetary Seat Blue Knight instantly by cardiac arrest.

It looked like Kyrie would be unable to do anything and simply fall.

Kugugugugung!

That lightning strike flowed off toward the far side of the horizon.

Swaeaeik! Swaeaeik! Swaeaeik!

It was because three guided lightning shots Kyrie fired without even looking had turned the lightning strike’s direction.

“Huh?”

“Uh?”

“What was that?”

Blue Knights on both sides were thrown into confusion.

“Flow control using guided lightning? But how did he deflect output at that level?”

Bataos of the Outer City Guard widened his eyes.

“It was luck!”

Sirmines spat the words like a blade.

The bloodshot veins standing out in her eyes made it clear that even she didn’t believe that.

“The stronger the lightning strike, the higher the voltage of the guided lightning that drags it in, right?”

Frey whispered to Nereus.

“That’s right.”

“Guided lightning is basically firing a relatively small amount of high-output lightning—like static—so the lightning comes down along that path…… then how high-voltage was Kyri-Kyrie firing just now?”

“It was always like that.”

“Huh?”

Nereus spat it out like he was chewing it.

“His mana capacity was pathetic, so that’s why—but even back then, he was good at the compression work to raise voltage. There’s a reason that bastard from the red-light district took second in lightning arts.”

Hearing that Frey had been good at compression since his Academy days, Frey thought—

Then how high can he raise max output now?

If even one clean hit got through, wouldn’t it be possible to smash Traysan’s defense in one go?

Rumble!

I almost died the moment it started!

Kyrie caught up to Traysan and thrust his sword in.

Rumble!

He shed it? That?

Traysan twisted his body by only a handspan to evade as he unfolded Halo.

Tsukaaaaaak!

Kyrie answered with Halo as well.

Tsukaaaaaak!

A pure-white blade vortex and a deep navy blade vortex clashed.

Three, four, five, six, seven slashes in a beat—and only after twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen did they spring apart.

Tadadadang!

A violent shockwave boomed, and the two Blue Knights bounced back.

“Hoo.”

“Hah.”

Kyrie’s wrist trembled, and Traysan tightened his elbow, then relaxed it again.

“You take it well.”

“Who taught you?”

“Then take this too.”

With his left hand, Traysan drew out a single nail.

Uuuuuuuung!

The nail heated to a distant navy and orange.

Electromagnetic Cannon.

“If you can take it!”

Kyrie’s eyes narrowed.

It’s a chance.

Chapter 122

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