The knight, still gasping for breath, clutched his ribs and tried to stabilize his legs.
"I apologize," he said. Looking at Wesley with wonder.
He had fought many—students, rebels, deserters, even Academy elites in spars—but none had left him feeling like this. Not from pain alone, but from the weight of sheer bewilderment.
He blinked at Wesley, who still stood silently with the mop in hand, the anger in his eyes smoldering but not extinguished.
The knight had to admit—he hadn't just underestimated the kid. He had misjudged something deeper.
What kind of training did this kid undergo…?
His thoughts spun.
The knight recalled other Mana-less noble offspring he'd encountered in the past.
Many noble houses had children who failed to awaken Mana and were quietly discarded to distant lands, given false posts or titles to save face. It was common knowledge.
