He was holding back a laugh.
‘That punk saw everything, didn’t he?’
The moment the match started, I closed the distance.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The clash of steel echoed through the arena.
Every step I took, I could feel the advantage shifting in my favor.
“Tch…!”
Leon was struggling. My Wolf Fang footwork had closed the distance to less than a hand’s breadth. He could barely keep up, his footing unstable.
“Drake-Style, Form 5 — Reverse Scale Thrust.”
My sword flickered like a viper, aiming for the joints of his armor — the exposed gaps where his plates didn’t fully connect.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“Argh!!”
The sound of metal colliding with metal echoed once again, but this time, it wasn’t just a sound.
Leon staggered.
His balance crumbled as his protective mana shield began to flicker and crack. The shimmering blue glow that had been surrounding him was now unstable.
If this kept up, victory would be mine.
But that’s when he decided to pull out one of his aces.
“Lion’s Pride!!”
An explosive burst of golden mana radiated from his body. The force of it pushed me back several meters, my feet skidding across the ground.
“Tch… Another lion move, huh? He really is the Lionheart’s son.”
I glanced at the space between us. The distance had grown again. I could feel my fingers tingle from the force of the shockwave.
“Looks like I’ve gotta get serious, too.”
Leon wiped dirt from his lips and spat on the ground. His eyes, which had been playful at the start, were now deadly serious.
“Guess I can’t play around anymore, huh, Licht?”
“That cocky attitude from earlier — where’d it go, Leon?”
His eyes sharpened.
“A lion only bares its fangs when necessary.”
He shifted into a new stance, channeling mana through his entire body.
“Gransia-Style Swordsmanship, Howling Wind.”
The winds began to swirl. His form looked oddly familiar. I’d seen this before.
‘Is he using Gransia-Style? Did he copy Mardol’s moves?’
No, that wasn’t it.
The stance he used was more polished. It was definitely Gransia-style, but this was the real deal. This was the version directly taught by the Commander of the Imperial Knights himself, Reinhardt Lionheart.
“This next attack will finish it, Licht.”
The winds howled around his sword, his posture firm, his breathing calm.
[Now showcasing the Gransia-Style Swordsmanship, Leon displays the prowess of the Lionheart lineage! Will Licht be able to overcome it?!]
The commentator’s voice hyped up the crowd.
“Looks like he’s pulling out all the stops now.”
“Yeah, yeah, impressive. But…”
I exhaled slowly.
The moment I did, I shut my eyes and thought about it.
Why did I pick up a sword?
What do I want to protect?
The answer was simple.
Her smile.
The memories of my time with the Nameless Saintess flashed through my mind. The warmth I felt in her presence burned in my chest.
“Ugh, this is gonna be annoying.”
I gritted my teeth, focusing my mind.
The arena floor cracked under the pressure of my stance.
“H-How?! My Howling Wind didn’t work?!”
Leon stumbled backward, stunned.
“Sorry, but I’m a bit more stubborn than most.”
The trick to Howling Wind was the auditory hallucination it produced. The lion’s roar caused a jarring mental disturbance that typically left people dazed.
But I’ve already faced this technique.
I’ve seen it used on Mardol and Ariel before.
“Unlike you, Leon, my love isn’t cheap.”
“Huh?”
“If you think I’ll lose to something that shallow, think again.”
His eyes narrowed, and he swung his sword with renewed force.
“Sacred Lion!!”
A pride of golden lions appeared from thin air, materializing out of his divine mana. They roared as they lunged toward me, each one filled with holy power.
‘Ah, it’s that move. King of Hearts.’
I’d seen it in the game. A technique only Reinhardt and his bloodline could use.
Lions of light, crashing forward like a tidal wave.
It was strong. Strong enough to wipe out a battlefield of enemies.
But in this case…
“It’s weaker than the original.”
Unlike Reinhardt, Leon’s lions were filled with far too many false projections. More illusions than substance.
To the untrained eye, they looked the same. But to me, they were nothing more than…
“Trash mobs.”
I leapt forward, stepping through the sea of lions. Wolf Fang footwork carried me between them, dodging each one.
“W-What?! He dodged them all?!”
“Your technique’s flashy, but it’s pointless if it doesn’t hit.”
My speed was increasing. One step, two steps, three.
I was now within striking distance.
I shifted to Drake-Style, Form 2 — Shadow Slash.
My sword rose high, ready to swing.
“I’ll block it with my shield!”
Leon raised his shield. His mana flowed into it, bolstering its durability.
“Too late.”
I swung down — but not at Leon.
I struck the ground, slicing the shadow at his feet.
Sching!
The sound of something tearing apart echoed as his shadow was severed.
Shadow Slash — a technique that cuts the shadow, not the body, causing the target to feel the damage as if it were real.
“Wh-What the hell?!”
His body jolted as the protective mana barrier around him shattered. The blue light dissipated into particles.
[Match Over!!]
[The winner is… Licht!!]
The horn blared.
The audience erupted into cheers.
“…I… I lost?”
Leon muttered in disbelief.
His gaze dropped to his hands, shaking with frustration.
“Why… why did I lose?! My shield should’ve stopped that attack!”
“You lost because you doubted yourself, Leon.”
I walked up to him, stopping just short of his reach.
“You faltered.”
“…Tch.”
Holy knights draw their strength from conviction. If that conviction wavers, their power diminishes.
It was something I’d learned from Professor Beatrice during one of her lectures on Divine Power Theory.
It was also why, during one of the bad endings, the Saintess failed to heal my dying character.
I lowered my sword, letting it rest against my shoulder.
“Listen carefully, Leon.”
His eyes met mine.
“There is no such thing as a ‘Harem Pure Love.’”
His face twisted into confusion.
“What…?”
“Love isn’t something you divide between people. Love isn’t cheap.”
I glanced at the crowd of girls in the stands.
“If you truly love someone, you wouldn’t be so careless with your feelings. You’d want them to be your one and only. You’d want them to see only you.”
I tightened my grip on my sword.
“Harem pure love? What a joke. If that exists, then that ‘love’ was shallow from the start.”
I turned away, walking off the stage.
“…Love isn’t something you share.”
“…”
Leon just sat there in silence. His shield, once so radiant, lay dull on the ground.
‘That’s what she said too, didn’t she?’
My heart ached as I recalled the Nameless Saintess’ words.
Her teachings about love, about “pure love” being the strongest kind of love.
If only she could see me now.
In the audience, Mardol watched with quiet eyes.
His hands gripped his lap tightly, his gaze unwavering.
“…That was… cool, Licht.”
His lips curled into a small smile.
“Winner: Licht!”
“That’s our boy!!”
“Crush that harem king!”
The crowd went wild. Even Leon’s “Madonnas” were booing him now.
Serves him right.