“I gladly accept your challenge───If I’m doing this, I’ll be serious, Freesia.”

I could clearly feel the moment he recognized me as a true opponent and switched his mindset.

“...!!”

His sheer presence—whether it was intimidation or outright killing intent—made my legs freeze on the spot.

───I knew this would happen, but facing it directly is completely different...

My whole body, my very brain, was sounding the alarm. "You must not fight this man." "He is an opponent you could never possibly defeat." My own mind was trying to crush the resolve I had built up. But this was something I had already accepted before issuing the challenge—so there was no reason to let it bother me now.

───Just because I can’t win, just because I don’t stand a chance, why should that stop me from challenging him?

Honestly, I’ve never understood that kind of thinking.

Of course, in a battle, winning and losing matter. Crossing swords means pain, and it means injury to some extent or another. But even when factoring in all those negatives, I could never bring myself to stop challenging the strong.

Why, you ask?

───Because look, even now, my heart is pounding like a war drum.

It’s not trembling out of fear or cowardice. It’s because I’m alive. The undeniable rhythm of my heartbeat tells me that loud and clear. This excitement is what defines me, what drives me forward. And if this battle with him—Clay—brings that feeling to life, then nothing could make me happier. Ever since that day, I’ve been hopelessly in love. With his strength. With his very being. With everything about him!!

“Hah... I just can’t get enough...”

Before I knew it, the stage was set.

The announcer and the audience still seemed a bit bewildered, but that didn’t matter. This was my reward for all the effort I had put in today, for all the training I had endured up until now. So their reactions were irrelevant. As long as my feelings reached him, nothing else mattered.

“You really are insane.”

With his freshly forged black iron sword at the ready, the man I cherished most muttered in exasperation. Just the sight of him was enough to drive me crazy. No matter what he said, he always accepted my selfishness. With him, I had no reason to hold back. If this weren’t an official match, I would have already lunged at him.

“Really? Maybe? Probably───”

He likely wasn’t expecting an answer, but I gave him one anyway. At the same time, I did a final check of my body.

───The wounds on my body had been forcefully closed with a healing potion. But that was just a temporary fix. The injuries still throbbed, though they wouldn’t hinder my movements. The real issue was my mana. In my fights against the female swordsman Ibuki and , I had already used one major technique each...

Frankly, my remaining mana wasn’t ideal for facing him.

But so what?

All these thoughts were nothing more than excuses to deceive myself. No matter the conditions, the man standing before me never made any excuses. If anything, he would display his full power as if he were in peak condition.

In that case, I simply had to do the same. If I couldn’t, then standing beside him was nothing but arrogance. Supporting him, always being by his side—those things would be impossible. So I had no choice but to do it... No, I would do it.

“But, I can’t help it, you know?”

“...?”

Waiting for the signal to begin, I continued the conversation from earlier.

“Because you, Clay, have driven me mad. You’ve captivated me. You’ve made me fall for you... So───”

Ignoring the gazes around us, disregarding appearances, I fixed my eyes on him alone and let my feelings pour out.

“You’d better take responsibility for messing me up this badly, okay?”

For a moment, he looked dumbfounded. Then, he smiled gently.

“───Well, I’ll do my best.”

“Ahaha!!”

Just that answer alone made me feel satisfied. The emptiness inside me was completely filled. At the same time, the sound of a blank round echoed into the sky.

“I love you, Clay!!”

Without hesitation, I leapt forward. He would take everything head-on. So I didn’t need to think about anything else. Everything—I would throw everything I had at him.

“───You’d better take responsibility for messing me up this badly, okay?”

The girl standing before me had probably just said something unbelievably embarrassing.

“Haha... That’s one hell of a heavy confession───Well, I’ll do my best.”

I was sure that, just like her, I’d cringe at the memory of this later, writhing in shame at the sheer ridiculousness of it. A so-called "cringeworthy past." But right now, none of that mattered. My blood was boiling.

Blood Flow Manipulation had just activated and was still far from optimal. But in its attempt to catch up, my body was already surging with energy, working overtime.

Why?

“Ahaha!!”

Simply put, my instincts were responding to her overwhelming killing intent—no, her overwhelming passion. I was being infected by it, becoming just as bloodthirsty.

───I guess that makes two of us.

At the sound of the signal, the battle-crazed girl rushed in. I had told her many things, but in the end, Claym Bradley wasn’t much different.

I pretended to be calm, feigned detachment, and claimed to desire peace. But once my mask slipped, I was just another fool obsessed with strength, drawn to powerful opponents, reveling in reckless abandon.

Ordinarily, such things should be kept hidden and restrained. I understood that all too well. That’s why I had suppressed it for so long. But in moments like these, when two equally crazed warriors crossed blades, I could ignore all of that. Outsiders would surely see it as absurd, but as long as we were having fun, what others thought didn’t matter.

“I love you, Clay!!”

“That makes me happy...!!”

No need for superficial flourishes. No need for restraint between us. All we had to do was swing our swords with everything we had.

A grin spread across my face naturally. Our blades, wielded with all our might, gleamed in the fading sunlight. In the blink of an eye, they clashed. A powerful shockwave and an overwhelming burst of magic erupted from the impact, rippling outward.

I thought I heard the audience gasp, wondering if the battle had already been decided in the very first strike.

────Don't worry about it. I have no intention of ending this quickly.

Without directing my words to anyone in particular, without the need to convey them, I charge at Freesia before me.

“This is the most fun, Clay!!”

“Ahh, yeah... it really is fun...”

Once we’ve closed the distance, there’s no stepping back. We simply cross blades endlessly until one of us collapses. We wound each other, and are wounded in turn. It’s painful, terrifying—but that’s only natural. That’s why we embrace this madness.

────I'm glad her first real battle is on such a perfect stage.

I've complained a lot, but I have to be grateful to this battle maniac.

The nearly setting sun bathes my dull black blade in its light, and as always, it feels like an extension of my own body. Every time I grip it, the discomfort fades; every time I swing it, it melts into me. To the point where my thoughts feel off instead.

────Huh? Am I even holding a sword right now?

…Well, maybe I exaggerated a bit. But that’s the level of euphoria surging through me every second. Ideas I never would have thought of before burst forth reflexively.

I release my blade mid-swing into the air, spin on the spot, lock onto a target within my whirling vision, reclaim the sword in a reverse grip, and slash with everything I have.

“Whoa! What was that move!?”

“No idea! But it looked cool, right?”

“Yeah!!”

Her eyes shine brightly, her face lighting up like an innocent child. Seeing her react so joyfully, I can’t help but grin. Her excitement fuels mine.

To an outsider, it must look like a mess of wasted motion, meaningless flourishes. But where’s the romance in fighting without a sense of play? Don’t tell me things like “That’s unnecessary” or “That’s meaningless.”

“Then, then! How about this!?”

Maybe inspired by my bizarre movements, Freesia suddenly shifts into an unpredictable trajectory. To anyone else, it must look downright bizarre, but my brain is firing on all cylinders, soaking in her erratic patterns, flooding with dopamine, utterly exhilarated.

“Whoa! What the hell is that move!? That’s badass!!”

“Right!!?”

There’s something we can share only in moments like these.

I show her what I can do. Then she responds—What about you? It’s a conversation, just without words. That’s what makes swords so interesting. But not everyone can understand that. That’s why it’s difficult, empty, frustrating, and sometimes even sad. But right now, with this girl in front of me, we can.

“You’ve gotten strong, Freesia.”

Just saying it doesn’t do justice to how happy that makes me. That’s why my whole body, down to my cells, is on fire. An endless exchange of slashes, attacks, words, and ideas. I want to drown in this intoxicating, infinite sensation forever.

“Re...ally...?”

But reality is cruel and indifferent. Everything must come to an end, and with time, that end always arrives.

────And that’s precisely why it has meaning and value.

Even knowing that, endings are still sad. But even sadness, when taken in as part of the whole, can become a kind of joy.

“Ahh...”

Before I realize it, her sword is losing its momentum. Just moments ago, she was flying freely in every direction, but now, she’s on the verge of stopping. Fragile—so close to shattering completely in the next second.

“I... am... still...!!”

Even though she barely has the strength to speak, Freesia still forces her body to move, speaking to me with her sword. And just from that, I know exactly what she’s thinking.

────I see, it’s the same for her. Of course it is...

She doesn’t want this to end. She’s desperately clinging to this moment. It’s too painful to be the one to end it herself. So it falls to me to bring the curtain down.

“You did well.”

“────!!”

Her final, sluggish, almost sloppy swing comes toward me. Dodging it is easy. More than that, I could counter perfectly. But where’s the fun in that? A sense of play is important. This isn’t the end anyway.

────Next time, let’s do this when you’re feeling better.

With that thought in mind, I—

“Here.”

—flick her forehead with all my might.

“Ow────!!?”

The loud smack and surprising force make her eyes go wide. She stumbles backward and collapses onto the ground, frustration evident on her face. But at the same time, she laughs, clearly having enjoyed herself. Seeing her shine like that, I can’t help but say:

“Let’s continue this some other time.”

Perhaps those words could’ve been different under other circumstances. But regardless, I, without any concern for the atmosphere, have just defeated the champion of the swordsmanship tournament—Freesia Greyfrost.

“Haa...”

I exhale deeply, releasing the air I’d been holding in. Glancing around, I see that the spectators, who had been watching what was supposed to be a duel, are still in a daze, as if their souls have left their bodies.

────Well, yeah, that’s to be expected.

I already knew this would be the reaction. I played around fully aware of the consequences. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone yelled at me later, “What do you think this sacred dueling ground is for!?” But I have no regrets.

I complained a lot, got annoyed, but in the end, all’s well that ends well… and honestly, I don’t feel bad.

────I’m still riding this high...

I’m regaining enough clarity to analyze myself like that.

Then, other concerns surface—how to smooth over the bizarrely silent atmosphere of the arena, how I once again ended up standing out far too much… A whole host of new worries.

But then—

‘Magnificent! This is what swordplay, what a true dance of blades, should be!’

That utterly misplaced voice shatters my thoughts.

“...Huh?”

Faint, yet unmistakably present, clinging to my eardrums. A voice I recognize.

And as if to turn my vague unease into certainty, that voice echoes again across the arena.

‘Out of respect for this sublime mastery of combat, I shall grant you mercy. Choose—surrender everything to me here and now for an easy end, or struggle on in vain, suffering in futility.’

Even if I wanted to forget it, I never could.

The crimson sky of the setting sun is suddenly swallowed by pitch-black shadows, covering everything.

One of the Seven Dragons that overlook the world—the lingering remnant of the dragon that governs shadows—descends.