The aftermath of the duel settled over the arena, leaving behind a quiet stillness that made everything feel slightly unreal.
At the center of the battlefield, Alaric Voss and Ingrid Weiss lay motionless, their bodies marked with clean, precise cuts that had only appeared after Knox had already passed them. Their armor, once polished and dignified, was now cracked and torn in several places, the damage clearly visible even from the stands. Neither of them moved, their weapons lying just out of reach as their consciousness slipped into darkness.
For a few seconds, no one reacted. The spectators simply stared. Some with disbelief. Others with confusion. And many with an unease they could not quite put into words.
Near the royal seats, Princess Molly had already risen to her feet without realizing it, her eyes wide as she looked toward the arena. There was no fear in her expression, only pure astonishment mixed with something that closely resembled admiration.
The King of Dresden, on the other hand, remained seated, but his expression had completely frozen. The sequence of events had unfolded far too quickly for him to process properly, leaving his thoughts momentarily scattered as he tried to grasp what had just happened before his eyes.
Beside him, the Queen sat in silence.
Her gaze remained fixed on the two fallen knights below, yet her expression had lost its earlier composure. The confidence she had carried throughout the banquet had quietly collapsed, replaced by a faint, lingering shock that she could not fully conceal.
Her knights—
defeated.
Not by a seasoned veteran.
But by a first-year student.
Around them, several members of the Fourth Knight Order stood stiffly in place, their earlier confidence nowhere to be found as they looked toward the arena with pale expressions.
Above it all, Knox hovered calmly in the air, the violet wings behind him still faintly glowing as their light slowly dimmed. His figure remained steady, his gaze directed downward toward the battlefield, quiet and composed as though the outcome had never been in doubt.
From Kizen's seating area, Jane watched him.
Her expression had long returned to its usual calm, yet her eyes did not leave Knox for even a moment. There was no surprise in her gaze, no shock, only a quiet recognition of something she had already known.
For a brief moment, her thoughts drifted back to a calm day at the residence of Nefthis.
Knox had been standing in the garden back then, a wooden sword in hand as he demonstrated his techniques one after another. Even at that time, his movements had already carried a strange refinement, each step flowing naturally into the next, each strike executed with a precision that felt far beyond his age.
Nefthis had praised him openly.
Lorain had watched with clear admiration.
Jane herself had acknowledged his talent without hesitation.
Yet Knox had only responded with a faint tilt of his head, as if their words had not quite reached him.
"Sigh…I'm still far from a Divine Blade."
At the time, none of them had understood what he meant.
The phrase itself had sounded unfamiliar, almost out of place, as though it belonged to a different world entirely.
Jane's gaze softened slightly at the memory.
Then, without realizing it—
"…Divine Blade."
The words slipped quietly from her lips. Soft enough that it should have gone unnoticed. Yet in the stillness that lingered across the arena, it carried further than she intended.
A few of the nearby spectators turned their heads. Some frowned slightly, as if trying to understand what they had just heard. Others said nothing at all.
And yet—
for reasons they could not explain—
the words remained.
Jane's quiet murmur did not disappear into the air as she had intended.
Near the royal seats, the King was the first to react, his brows slowly drawing together as the unfamiliar term settled in his mind. It did not belong to any title within Dresden, nor to any rank among his knights, yet the weight behind it made it impossible to ignore.
"Divine Blade?" he repeated under his breath, as if testing the sound of it.
Beside him, the Queen's gaze shifted toward Jane for a brief moment, sharp and searching. She did not interrupt, but the slight tightening of her expression made it clear that she understood this was not a word spoken lightly.
Her eyes returned to Knox. This time, she looked at him differently.
Molly, meanwhile, remained standing, her eyes fixed upward at the figure hovering above the arena. The faint glow of violet light still traced the edges of his wings, and the image of him standing alone against the entire Fourth Knight Order had yet to leave her mind.
"…Divine Blade…" she echoed softly.
At the edge of the arena, Gregor Halstein had heard it as well.
"…Divine Blade… huh." He repeated the words slowly, his gaze never leaving Knox.
For a moment, he said nothing, as if weighing whether the name truly fit what he had just witnessed.
"…a swordsman whose mastery has gone beyond normal limits…"
The quiet explanation left him almost as soon as it was spoken.
Then—
"Hahaha…! A short, low laugh escaped him, rare and unrestrained.
"…Divine Blade… what a fitting name!"
He did not raise his voice. Yet the conviction behind his words carried.
And though no one openly repeated the title—
no one rejected it either.
The name settled quietly into the space between them, unspoken yet understood, as all eyes returned once more to the figure suspended above the arena.
Knox Aznable.
Gregor did not remain at the sidelines for long.
The moment the silence in the arena settled into something more stable, he stepped forward, his figure crossing the distance in a few firm strides before appearing at the center of the battlefield. The faint traces of Knox's aura still lingered in the air, but Gregor paid them no mind as he crouched beside the two fallen knights.
Alaric lay on his back, his swords loosened from his grip, his chest rising and falling unevenly as blood seeped through the cracks in his damaged armor. Ingrid was not far from him, her rapier resting just beyond her reach, her condition slightly better but still clearly unconscious, her breathing shallow from both injury and exhaustion.
Gregor's eyes moved quickly, assessing.
No fatal wounds. But far from light.
He exhaled sharply. Then his voice cut across the arena.
"Medic! Healer! What are you waiting for?! Hurry and bring both of them out of here!"
The command snapped through the lingering silence like a whip.
For a brief second, the medical staff stationed at the edge of the arena remained frozen, still processing the overwhelming scene they had just witnessed. Then, as if jolted awake, they moved all at once, rushing forward with urgency.
Several of them knelt beside Alaric and Ingrid, quickly checking their conditions before carefully lifting them onto stretchers. Others followed close behind, ensuring their injuries were stabilized as best as possible before transport.
Within moments, both knights were carried out of the arena, escorted swiftly toward the palace infirmary, leaving behind only the fractured battlefield and the lingering echoes of the duel.
Gregor rose to his feet. For a brief moment, he looked at the empty space where they had been.
Then he turned, his gaze lifting toward Knox, who was still hovering above the arena.
Gregor straightened slightly, drawing in a breath before speaking once more—this time, not as a concerned captain, but as the referee of the match.
His voice rang out clearly. "The winner of this duel—!"
A slight pause.
Then, with unmistakable conviction:
"Knox Aznable!"
The declaration spread across the courtyard, breaking the last remnants of silence as the weight of the result finally settled over everyone present.
For a moment after Gregor's announcement, the arena remained suspended in that strange, lingering stillness—
Then it broke.
Applause erupted.
Not all at once, but spreading in waves as the spectators finally reacted to what they had just witnessed. At first it came from a few scattered individuals, hesitant and unsure, but as the reality of the duel settled in, the sound grew louder, turning into a chorus of claps and cheers that filled the entire courtyard.
Some stood. Others called out in excitement.
And many simply watched in awe, their applause carrying a weight that words could not quite express.
Above them, Knox remained suspended in the air.
The violet wings behind him flickered once, then again, their radiant glow beginning to fade as the streams of light slowly unraveled into particles, dissolving into the air like embers drifting in the wind. One by one, the luminous trails disappeared, until nothing remained but the faintest trace of mana.
Then Knox descended.
Not abruptly, but with a smooth, controlled motion, his feet touching the fractured stone of the arena as lightly as if he had never left the ground.
The applause continued.
Knox glanced briefly toward the crowd, then inclined his head in a small, composed bow—neither exaggerated nor dismissive, but just enough to acknowledge the spectators who had watched the duel unfold.
When he straightened, his gaze shifted.
To Jane.
For a brief moment, the sharpness in his eyes softened, and a familiar smile returned to his face—light, relaxed, almost playful, as though the overwhelming battle from moments ago had been nothing more than a passing exercise.
Jane, who had been watching him all along, met his gaze.
And without realizing it—
she smiled back. It was subtle. But unmistakable.
The tension that had lingered around her since the duel began eased slightly, replaced by something warmer that only appeared in moments like this.
Knox turned away after that, his attention returning to the path ahead.
The arena floor lay below, while the seating areas rose upward in layered tiers, with the Kizen delegation seated among the elevated sections reserved for distinguished guests. The difference in height was significant, the distance marked by ascending steps and structured platforms that separated the battlefield from the observers.
Yet Knox did not take the stairs. Instead, he walked forward.
And as he did, his steps carried him upward.
There was no visible platform beneath his feet, no structure supporting him, yet each step landed as though the air itself had become solid beneath him. His ascent was calm and unhurried, his posture relaxed as he crossed the distance between the arena and the elevated seating with the same ease he had shown during the duel.
A few spectators fell silent again, watching the sight unfold.
Step by step, Knox reached the level of the Kizen seats, then continued forward until he arrived beside Jane. Without hesitation, he took his place next to her, settling into the seat as naturally as if he had simply walked up a set of stairs.
Leaning back slightly, he let out a quiet breath.
Then, with that same easy, sunny smile—
he spoke nothing at all.
Jane's gaze followed Knox the entire time he made his way back, her posture remaining composed as always, yet her eyes quietly traced every movement he made, as if confirming something for herself rather than simply watching.
The moment he took his seat beside her, that calm observation shifted.
Her eyes moved over him. From head to toe.
Not hastily, but carefully—taking in the state of his clothes, the steadiness of his breathing, the absence of visible wounds. It was subtle, but unmistakably thorough, like someone used to checking for things others might miss.
Only after that did she speak. "Knox… looks like you're okay."
Her tone was calm, almost indifferent at first glance, but there was a faint trace of concern beneath it that did not escape those nearby.
The assistant professors seated around them noticed immediately.
Several of them exchanged brief glances, their expressions shifting in quiet surprise.
Professor Jane… actually worried?
It was not something they saw often.
Before anyone could dwell on it further, Knox suddenly leaned back slightly in his seat.
And then, his entire expression changed.
In an instant, his face crumpled into an exaggerated look of sorrow, his shoulders drooping as if the weight of the world had just fallen onto him.
"Boo hoo… sob sob…"
He raised a hand to his face, as if wiping away invisible tears.
"Sister Jane… this poor, lowly student of yours just got bullied…"
His voice trembled dramatically, completely at odds with the battle he had just fought.
"How did a simple spar turn into one versus many… and then into a life-and-death situation…?"
A quiet sniff followed, as though he were on the verge of breaking down at any moment.
The assistant professors froze.
One of them blinked.
Another stared.
None of them knew how to react.
Jane, however—
simply watched him.
For a brief moment, her expression did not change.
Then she let out a soft breath and shook her head, a faint, almost helpless smile forming on her lips as she looked at him.
"...Honestly."
Of course, the exchange did not go unnoticed.
From the royal seats, the King had just begun to recover from the shock of the duel when his gaze drifted toward the Kizen section, only to pause as he caught sight of Knox's exaggerated act. The contrast between the calm, overwhelming swordsman from moments ago and the "pitiful student" now slouching dramatically in his seat left him momentarily at a loss for words.
"…That's the same person… right?" he muttered quietly, half to himself.
Beside him, Molly pressed a hand lightly against her lips, clearly trying to hold back her reaction. Her shoulders trembled slightly, her eyes still fixed on Knox as if she couldn't quite decide whether to be amazed… or amused.
"…He's… interesting…" she whispered, her tone filled with a mix of admiration and disbelief.
The Queen, however, had no such hesitation. Her gaze locked onto Knox, her expression tightening ever so slightly as she watched him complain with that overly dramatic tone.
Bullied…?
A faint twitch appeared at the corner of her eye.
If that was you being bullied…
Her fingers curled subtly against the armrest.
…then what do you call what happened to my knights?!
Of course, she didn't dare say it out loud.
At the edge of the arena, Gregor had also witnessed the scene.
For a moment, the veteran knight simply stood there, watching Knox with a strange look on his face, as if trying to reconcile the composed, overwhelming fighter from earlier with the shameless act unfolding now.
The King was the first to move.
Perhaps it was the lingering tension in the air, or perhaps it was something far more instinctive, but as he watched Knox's exaggerated act unfold, a faint sense of unease crept into his chest—subtle, yet impossible to ignore.
He stood.
The motion alone was enough to draw attention, and without allowing the moment to stretch any further, he spoke with a firm, steady voice that carried across the arena.
"This sparring match concludes with the victory of Knox Aznable."
There was no hesitation in his tone.
Only clarity.
"What we have witnessed today… is nothing short of exceptional. A display of skill worthy of recognition."
He brought his hands together. A single, deliberate clap. Then another.
The sound spread quickly, the earlier applause reigniting as the spectators followed suit, filling the courtyard once more with cheers and admiration. The moment, tense just seconds ago, was guided smoothly toward closure under the King's authority.
After a short while, the applause gradually settled.
Molly stepped forward again, her maid following just a step behind as she approached the Kizen delegation with her usual composed demeanor.
"If you would please follow me—"
"Wait a moment, Princess Molly." Jane's voice cut in.
Molly stopped mid-step.
So did everyone else who heard it.
Several heads turned at once, the shift in atmosphere immediate as all eyes moved toward Jane.
She stayed seated, but her tone made it clear she was serious.
"After witnessing today's sparring," Jane continued, her tone even, almost casual, "I can't help but feel that it would be rather… inappropriate for things to end at this level."
She paused for a moment, then her gaze shifted.
"…a spar between students and… some knights."
The emphasis was subtle, but sharp, just enough to make the King stiffen and the Queen's expression darken
And Gregor—
Gregor felt it clearly. A bad premonition.
Jane's eyes moved toward him briefly, before she continued:
"How about this." She tilted her head ever so slightly.
"As the Vice President of Kizen…" A faint smile.
"…I join the spar myself?"
For a moment, no one spoke. It caught everyone off guard.
The Queen was the first to respond, her voice controlled, though the tension beneath it was evident.
"…Vice President Jane. What exactly do you mean by this?"
Jane turned her head. Her gaze met the Queen's.
And in that instant—
the temperature in the air seemed to drop.
"Mean?" Jane repeated softly.
Her eyes did not waver.
"If anything, that should be my question, Your Majesty."
Her voice remained calm. But colder than before.
"Using killing intent… and techniques meant to kill…"
A slight pause. "…against a first-year student."
Her gaze sharpened. "A student of Kizen."
The pressure in the air thickened.
"And this—"
Her voice lowered slightly.
"—during what was explicitly stated to be nothing more than a spar."
Silence pressed down on the entire arena.
Jane's expression did not change. Yet something unseen spread outward from her presence, a quiet, suffocating pressure that made even seasoned knights instinctively tense.
"What exactly did you mean by that… Dresden Kingdom?"
No one answered.
Because no one could.
The Queen's fingers tightened against her seat.
For the first time since the banquet began—
fear.
A faint tremor ran through her.
At the edge of the arena, Gregor moved immediately.
He stepped forward without hesitation, positioning himself between the royal family and the source of that pressure, his own presence rising to meet it as he blocked the invisible weight pressing toward them.
"Vice President Jane!"
His voice rang out, sharp and tense.
"Stop this immediately, or else—!"
Jane cut him off.
"Or else?"
Her tone remained unchanged.
"Or else what?"
After a brief pause, she added, "War?"
The moment Jane said "war," Gregor froze, the weight of it sinking in almost immediately.
The Queen's expression shifted into panic, her composure starting to slip as a wave of regret hit her.
Her decision. Her provocation. Alaric. Ingrid.
It all came rushing back at once, and for the first time, she realized how much had already gone wrong.