I held my sword at the ready, turning to face Cradle as he circled around, avoiding any direct approach.

Cradle cautiously parried my blade, stepping further back to maintain his distance.

"What's wrong? Were those words of yours just bravado after all?"

Cradle said this as he closed the distance he'd just created.

"Good positioning. I’ll admit, it’s tough to swing my sword effectively if you move like that."

When I said that, Cradle exhaled a laugh.

"Someone who’s swung a stick enough to feel at home with a sword would know plenty of techniques—switching the front and rear feet while stepping back for a slash, parrying while entangling, and more."

Even as he gave this explanation, Cradle relentlessly kept swinging his sword.

It was all I could do to defend myself. Several times, I barely avoided a dangerous blow.

When I managed to deflect Cradle's sword, I followed his earlier advice—shifting my forward foot back and pivoting to face him.

"Oh, this does transition nicely into a swing. Thanks for the tip."

At my remark, Cradle stared at me in disbelief and shrugged.

"You’ll need more than a year to master that even if you’ve just learned it. Give it up and admit defeat. Next time, I’ll aim for your neck—or maybe an arm."

Saying this, Cradle knocked my sword downward with lightning speed and used the momentum to thrust his blade toward my face.

Watching his sword waver before my eyes, I smirked.

"Impressive. It’s remarkable how much skill and insight you've honed at your age. To read my habits and infer my life from them... You must be around thirty? That’s no easy feat."

At this, Cradle stared at me with a bewildered expression.

"You, of all people, shouldn’t be saying that! Are you about to claim you’re some kind of vampire?"

When Cradle blurted that out, I chuckled wryly. It’s true—coming from someone who looked barely twenty, it must have sounded absurd.

Still laughing, I knocked Cradle’s sword aside.

Seeing his surprise, I stepped forward with a grin.

"I like to think of myself as a veteran on the verge of retirement. With that mindset, let me offer some advice to the younger generation."

As I advanced toward him, Cradle clicked his tongue and moved to circle back toward my right.

"What's that even mean? Fighting with a veteran’s mindset—what’s the point?"

Even as he grumbled, Cradle’s swings came faster and heavier, each strike more serious than the last.

It seemed he’d finally decided to go all out.

Fending off his attacks desperately, I stretched my free left hand toward him, trying to grab hold.

"Tch!"

Cradle leaped back abruptly, creating a significant gap between us to avoid my reach.

Smiling, I stepped forward again.

"That’s your habit—you rely too much on safety margins. I’m not confident in my swordsmanship, so pressing me aggressively would make me tense up or panic into mistakes."

When I pointed this out, Cradle furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly.

"Safety margins?"

"Yeah, it means avoiding unnecessary risks. Not a bad thing in itself, but when your opponent is evenly matched, it’s a fifty-fifty gamble. Against someone stronger, it’s almost certainly a loss. You struggle to overturn disadvantageous situations—that’s your first bad habit."

Hearing this, Cradle snorted irritably.

"...Talking to you really feels like I’m chatting with some old geezer. Don’t lecture me from on high. Avoiding risk is the most important thing for a swordsman."

Even as he said this, Cradle swung at me with even greater strength than before.

I abandoned my attempts to attack, using my sword as a shield while pressing forward.

"If losing is acceptable, then you’re right. But right now, this is a moment you absolutely cannot afford to lose. So come at me like your life depends on it. What’s with that timid, retreating stance? Look, I’m stepping closer again. Will you run once more?"

As I closed the gap, Cradle instinctively backed away again, glaring at me with a tense expression.

"Trying to provoke me? You think I’ll change my strategy because of some cheap taunts?"

"You’re plenty angry already."

At my words, Cradle’s swings became more forceful and deliberate, his footwork quickening as he moved to encircle me.

But this time, I jumped backward abruptly, increasing the distance between us.

Surprised by the sudden retreat, Cradle hesitated for a moment before stepping toward me.

Taking advantage of that opening, I leaped toward him in a single bound.

"Hah!"

"Whoa!?"

As I brought my sword down mid-leap, Cradle hastily parried while retreating.

Chasing after his retreating form, I spoke again.

"Here’s your second bad habit. You’re skilled and perceptive, but you overthink. Plan broadly, but limit your foresight to a move or two ahead. That level of looseness allows for flexibility. Improving adaptability, however, takes grueling practice and experience."

I laughed as I said this, parrying his counterattack and closing in on him.

Then, while he was focused on my sword, I kicked his shin hard.

"Argh!?"

The unexpected pain made Cradle lurch forward. Seizing the opportunity, I grappled him from behind and lifted him off the ground.

Cradle’s feet flailed above my head as I prepared to slam him down.

"Damn it!"

Before I could complete the throw, Cradle wrapped his legs around my head, twisting his body in a desperate counter.

Realizing I was about to be toppled, I instinctively curled my back and shielded my head with both arms.

A jarring impact followed, accompanied by muffled sounds as if underwater. A searing heat radiated from my neck and the back of my head.

This was bad.

Dazed, I assessed my surroundings, ensuring the ground was steady beneath me. My concussion, if any, seemed mild.

Meanwhile, Cradle, who hadn’t practiced breakfalls, writhed on the ground in pain.

"...To think you’d pull off a Frankensteiner as a counter... I'm impressed, Cradle."

Standing slowly, I spoke in admiration. Cradle, clutching his face, managed to stand as well.

"Ugh... I don’t even know what that is. Just dumb luck."

Shaking his head, Cradle noticed his missing sword. My own blade was also out of reach, both lying between us.

Our eyes locked.

"…!"

Cradle darted for the swords first.

I sprinted after him, watching as he grabbed the hilt of one sword.

But before he could lift it, I stomped on the blade.

"What!?"

Thrown off balance, Cradle dropped to his knees.

Taking advantage, I pinned his arms behind him and hoisted him up.

After a brief pause at the height of the lift, I adjusted my grip and slammed him into the ground.

A dull thud echoed as Cradle lay sprawled on the sand, groaning in pain.

Satisfied, I turned my back on him and leaped high into the air.

I twisted mid-air to land on him, intending to finish with a body slam. Unfortunately, I over-rotated and ended up crushing him with my back instead.

Hearing Cradle gasp in agony, I stood up.

"Your over-reliance on the sword was your downfall. Despite your incredible talent for improvisation, you grew complacent with your skill in swordsmanship. That was your final bad habit."

At my words, Cradle glared at me, his voice faint but defiant.

"You... of all people... have no right... to say that... you arrogant bastard."

The roaring crowd erupted in cheers, and I caught sight of Emera, her eyes shining as she jumped up and down in celebration.

Turning to Cradle, I smirked.

"Didn’t you know? With a cheering audience, I’m invincible."

As I said this, Cradle stared at the sky and burst out laughing.

"Ha... what the hell... You sneaky bastard..."