Roy placed his hand on his waist, feeling the Sword of the Black Furnace vibrating excitedly within its sheath.
"So that's why you recognized me?"
Legend had it that the Four Colored Magic Swords were born from the same research facility, sharing some inexplicable connection between them. When they encountered each other, they would react—from a human perspective, it was akin to long-separated siblings reuniting.
"I won't deny that, but even without Lei-Glems, I'm confident I would have recognized you."
Ernest smiled faintly, his words brimming with unshakable confidence in his discernment.
Ernest Fairclough—regarded as the pinnacle of Asterisk swordsmanship and a strong contender for the title of Fifth Generation Sword Saint. His swordsmanship far surpassed Kirin's, though it was hard to say whether that would remain true if Kirin were his age.
But if Roy remembered correctly, Ernest was a university student at Saint Galahadworth, already nearing twenty years old, while Kirin was only thirteen—barely fourteen after the new year.
This was, of course, a gap born of time, but it also highlighted the chasm between them—years of rigorous training even with equal talent.
Truthfully, Roy's current swordsmanship might not necessarily surpass Ernest's.
Setting aside Okita Souji's techniques, his foundational swordsmanship wasn't that formidable. The Tennen Rishin-ryū still couldn't compare to the likes of Miyamoto Musashi, Sasaki Kojirou, or Yagyū Munenori.
But Okita's techniques were indeed formidable.
"President Ernest, aren't you a busy man? Is it really alright to chat with us like this?"
"No problem. I woke up early and finished today's work already."
In response to Sylvia's question, Ernest replied with an easygoing smile.
"Miss Songstress, as the student council president of Queenvail, shouldn't you be the one worrying about having too much free time?"
"Hehe, I'm famously just a pretty face! I don't handle any real work."
Sylvia laughed without a trace of shame. Though her words were self-deprecating, her tone was remarkably carefree.
Since she was often traveling around the world, the academy's affairs were handled by the director, Petra, in her stead. Because of this, some mocked her behind her back as the only "decorative" student council president among the six academies.
Sylvia herself didn't care in the slightest. There were plenty of people in the world dissatisfied with her—if she worried about every one of them, she'd be overwhelmed. Rather than obsessing over others' opinions, she preferred to focus on becoming stronger.
Even now, though she no longer held concerts, she had no intention of taking on administrative work. She spent her days wandering around Asterisk, touching none of the responsibilities, remaining the same "decorative" figure.
"That's just a difference in academy strategy. As the face of Queenvail, Miss Songstress, your role isn't to drown in tedious work but to promote the academy's reputation as much as possible. In that regard, I believe you're the most qualified student council president."
Ernest shook his head dismissively, offering a perspective entirely different from others.
Roy gave him a thoughtful glance.
As expected of someone from a prestigious family—he sure knew how to talk.
"I'm glad you think so."
Sylvia let out a light, surprised laugh but didn't feign modesty, accepting Ernest's words wholeheartedly.
Ernest was absolutely right. The amount of attention Sylvia's presence had drawn to Queenvail, the number of students who enrolled just for her—it was unimaginable. Even the conglomerate had to speak to Sylvia with utmost politeness, which showed just how much profit her existence had generated for them.
"So, did you come here specifically to compliment me?"
"No, I actually came for Sir Roy."
Ernest chuckled, denying Sylvia's assumption.
The reason he praised her was simply due to his upbringing in a prestigious family, where he was strictly taught from childhood to be a gentleman toward women. It was just his habitual courtesy, with no additional meaning whatsoever.
"Me?"
Roy, who had been engrossed in his meal, looked up with a hint of confusion in his eyes.
Wait, we're not even that close, are we?
"This afternoon, there's an event at Sirius Dome called the Apex Arena."
Ernest's gaze turned meaningful as he looked at Roy.
"Sir Roy has signed up for it, correct?"
"That's right."
"To be honest, I've also entered."
"Really?"
Roy stared at him in disbelief.
The Apen Arena wasn't exactly a high-profile event, was it?
Not only was last year's Phoenix Festa champion participating, but even the previous Gryps Festa champion was joining too?
"Really. After all, I was invited by that person from Jie Long."
"...Fan Xinglou?"
"Oh? Don't tell me you were too?"
"Yeah."
Ernest was momentarily stunned before bursting into laughter.
"Haha, what a coincidence. I hope we can have an exciting match this afternoon—that's all I came to say. My apologies for interrupting your meal. I'll take my leave now."
Ernest bid them a friendly farewell and gracefully exited the dining hall.
Roy lowered his head and took another bite of his steak, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing.
"So, he came here to issue a declaration of war against me?"
"Your wording is a bit extreme, but that's probably the gist of it."
Sylvia gave him a wry look. War? He just wanted to spar with you.
"Still, it's the first time I've seen Ernest care so much about a match with someone."
"Isn't that normal?"
Roy shrugged. He was actually quite interested in sparring with Ernest too. Wasn't that how martial artists were?
"No, it's not normal at all."
Sylvia shook her head. "The cost of wielding Lei-Glems is having no personal desires whatsoever, and Saint Galahadworth places great emphasis on collective honor. The two create a contradiction. For example, if he led his team in the Gryps Festa and encountered a formidable opponent he wanted to fight with all his might, Lei-Glems would never allow it. It would demand Ernest suppress his personal desires and act solely for the team's victory."
"So, Ernest has been suppressing his personal desires to ensure he remains fair and impartial?"
"I wouldn't know about that."
Sylvia shook her head again. She wasn't particularly close to Ernest and had no idea what he truly thought—maybe he was perfectly content with it. But one thing was certain: he would never normally care this much about a sparring match with someone, to the point of going out of his way to greet them.
Roy was deep in thought.
He quickly finished his lunch.
"I'm heading out. What about you?"
"I'll come along. This Apex Arena seems quite interesting."
Sylvia rose from her chair, a contemplative look crossing her face.
"Should I give it a try too?"
***
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