Clashing Pride

“To your left!”

“Got it, Viviane!” Medrauta’s response was instant as her sword flickered swiftly to the left, cleaving through a sword-shaped flame and dispersing it before it could flank her.

With more than a few matches under her belt now, Viviane had grown to become a more capable lady, having learned the importance of researching an opponent’s Crest, abilities, and general skill level before actually being thrust into a match.

Yet, despite having ample knowledge of the princess’ Crest and the combat capabilities of her acting knight, the prince, the duo was hard pressed to squeeze out a victory.

Not only were the pair still incapable of resonating, but the princess’ Crest was a semi-autonomous type, and to make matters worse, its abilities were tremendously powerful and versatile.

Prince Galahad was also a skilled knight in his own right, his style a perfect mixture of attack and defense. Though he still wouldn’t be able to match Medrauta in a duel, that wasn’t a problem for him thanks to the Crest that supported him.

Four blades forged of pure flame revolved around his body, assisting him in his attacks and defensive maneuvers in dizzying combinations that would’ve made all but the most skilled of knights collapse immediately under their relentless assault.

Galahad parried Medrauta’s latest attack, a wicked scything cut that dispersed two of his revolving flame blades and threatened to separate his head from his torso had it connected.

He grunted with the effort of blocking the attack before directing two of his remaining flame blades to harry Medrauta away while the other two that his opponent dispersed slowly re-formed

“You’re really nothing special,” Medrauta remarked.

“...What did you say?”

“I said you’re nothing special, your Imperial Highness,” Medrauta continued. “That ability might have earned you a victory against someone else, but it’s really no different than fighting five knights at once. Rather easy, if you ask me.”

“M-Medrauta! Why are you taunting the prince!?” Viviane cried out worriedly.

“‘Cause he’s lookin’ down on me,'' Medrauta clicked her tongue in annoyance before leveling the tip of her blade to point at the massive greatsword strapped against the prince’s back. “When are you gonna pull that thing out?”

In response, Galahad glared at Medrauta. “You are not worthy of Galatine’s blade.”

Medrauta raised an eyebrow. If she felt insulted, she showed no signs of it on her face. Instead, she dashed forwards, advancing with such incredible speed that the prince had no choice but to hastily shift into a defensive position.

Medrauta’s eyes narrowed as she focused on her target. Her grip tightened around the hilt of her weapon as she prepared to issue her attack. And then, she swung her sword.

Twang!

“W-W-What just happened!?” Trista’s amplified voice rang with shock. At the same time, a wave of surprise rippled through the stadium’s bleachers, echoing her sentiment. “Knight Medrauta’s attack has cleaved straight through Knight Galahad’s sword!”

Had it not been for the prince’s lightning-fast reactions, he may have been taken out of the match right there. Galahad touched a hand to his cheek where the tip of Medrauta’s blade had scored a hit.

The cut was deep, and his fingers came away wetter than he expected.

Medrauta flicked her sword, splattering an arc of blood onto the arena tiles. Though she wore a supremely bored expression, she’d ultimately failed to keep a smug tone out of her voice.

“It seems that you are the one who is not worthy of my blade, Your Imperial Highness.”

The prince inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm his nerves. He knew from experience that getting riled up wouldn’t do him any favors, especially against an opponent as skilled as Medrauta. After all, defeat had just flashed across his eyes despite the odds being heavily stacked in his favor.

“Very well,” Galahad declared as he pulled the greatsword free from its sheath.

The colossal sword glittered beautifully, almost as if it were drawing in the light of the noonday sun. Its blade bore no imperfections, and its silver hue was matched only by that of Medrauta’s equally flawless hair.

“Allow me to enlighten you on the depths of your unworthiness.”

“Try it, if you can.”

The two knights immediately engaged one another, pitting not only their strength against their opponent this time, but also their pride.

Galahad’s greatsword, Galatine, described a perfect downward arc in the air as it hurtled toward Medrauta at a speed that normally should have been impossible for such a heavy weapon.

Meanwhile, Medrauta’s unnamed longsword swept upwards at a slanted angle. In the face of Galatine’s enormity, Medrauta’s blade looked weak and fragile, as if a single clash would cause it to snap.

Yet, when both swords met, Galahad’s weapon had slid off Medrauta’s smaller blade with a terrible screech, landing harmlessly next to the silver-haired knight and leaving his upper body wide open.

Immediately, Medrauta’s sword flashed forward in a disgustingly efficient overhead cut that mirrored the attack that Galahad had just attempted against her, only that her swing had begun in a far better position than his.

Should Medrauta’s attack land, it would have undoubtedly spelled the prince’s defeat. But just as the attack was about to connect, Princess Gwenhwyfar’s voice cut across the arena.

“Ignis Fatui! Shield him!”

Just like that, the princess had completely taken control of the four flaming blades that hovered around Galahad, causing them to shoot upwards in a defensive formation above the knight.

Medrauta’s strike sheared through three of the blades effortlessly, yet was stuck fast as she pitted her strength against the final blade. Though she had only struggled against it for a second, it was enough time for Galahad to make a hasty retreat, raising his large weapon in front of him and presenting the flat of it toward Medrauta as a makeshift shield.

“Well, well, Your Imperial Highness.” Medrauta couldn’t help the smirk on her face this time. “It looks like it’ll take some time for those extra swords of yours to recover, won’t it? Do you really think you can defeat me while still holding on to that pride?”

Prince Galahad grit his teeth. Initially, he had wanted to duel Medrauta on equal grounds, drawing strength from only the most minor abilities that had been bestowed onto him from his sister’s Crest. It wasn’t a matter of going easy on her. Rather, he simply couldn’t accept the fact that a no-name knight who had only ever won a single match was a better duelist than him.

He was childish.

But then again, so was Medrauta. She knew that if the prince truly stayed this course, she might actually be able to manage a victory before the princess caught on and started commandeering the Crest’s abilities herself.

However, her pride just wouldn’t let her call something like that a victory. After all, if her opponent wasn’t at their strongest when she won, then it was ultimately a meaningless victory. Rather, calling something like that a victory like that would have been nothing more than insulting herself.

At her core, Medrauta was a knight. Even though she couldn’t resonate—No. Especially because she couldn’t resonate, putting her everything on the line was all she had. If her opponent refused to do the same despite that, it would only mean that they thought all she had worked for thus far was nothing more than pointless.

And that was not something she was willing to accept, even if it would cost her the match.

“Medrauta!” Galahad roared. “Starting now, I will annihilate you with all my strength!”

The silver-haired knight grinned. At last, the prince would face her in earnest.

“Hah! I wouldn’t have it any other way!”