"Follow me to the training ground!"
But from his perspective, my staff didn't seem like a particularly reliable weapon.
"I'll be using a real sword, so are you sure that's okay? I think even picking up that metal rod over there would be better."
"Even though it looks weak, it's reasonably usable if I coat it with mana. I'll let you know beforehand if it seems dangerous, so don't worry."
Since I adamantly refused, perhaps finding it awkward to persuade me further, Ozma eventually conceded and stepped back.
Afterward, we exchanged words and coordinated our opinions.
As a result, we decided Vanessa would be the referee, and for our mutual safety, we agreed that the first person to land a valid hit would win.
If we fought recklessly like the Death Knights did, it would be perfect for someone to end up with a funeral portrait.
Ozma, standing facing me, drew his sword from its scabbard and said,
"You don't need to overthink it. Just fight like it's real combat."
'As if that were as easy as it sounds.'
"Please go easy on me."
Hiding my true thoughts, I said that, bowed my head, and then assumed a stance just like his, facing him from the opposite side.
It was the basic stance for ceremonial staff combat I learned five years ago when I briefly worked for the Royal Army as a War Mage.
With both of us ready to fight, a strange tension filled the training ground.
There was no separate starting signal, but anyone could tell the sparring had already begun.
As we were sizing each other up, Ozma moved first.
Tak!
Ozma, closing the distance of about 5 meters in the blink of an eye as if folding space, pulled the rapier he held horizontally close to his body.
"Hup!"
What followed was a triple thrust, like lightning.
The speed was so fast that I couldn't dodge it with mere eye-tracking; I predicted the sword's path and blocked Ozma's attacks by pushing my staff into each trajectory.
Although his crucial surprise attack failed, Ozma didn't seem bothered and executed flashy footwork.
A slash from the upper left, a thrust from the lower right.
After unleashing a combo like a dance, he spun his body around and used the centrifugal force to deliver a kick straight to my abdomen.
Of course, I wasn't someone who would just sit there and take it.
I quickly raised my knee to block the high kick aimed at my abdomen, then gripped my staff with both hands, extending it to aim for Ozma's chin by flicking the tip upward.
However, perhaps anticipating my move by seeing my shoulder shift, Ozma dodged the tip of my staff by tilting his head back by a hair's breadth, then leaped back to create distance.
A back-and-forth exchange that lasted less than three minutes.
He leaned his upper body forward slightly, extending his rapier, his eyes gleaming like a cat stalking fish.
"They often say mages are weak in close combat, but it seems that's not necessarily the case."
I replied, casually swinging my staff, which I held long like a pole.
"It's unavoidable if you don't want to get stabbed and killed by some random guy on the battlefield, isn't it?"
Ozma then smirked, as if he'd heard something incredibly amusing.
"That… is true!"
Between breaths.
Seizing that brief opening, Ozma's rapier lunged toward my neck like the claws of a swift beast.
I hastily dodged the sword's tip by jerking my head sideways.
The rapier, grazing right beside my ear, sliced off a few strands of my short hair.
Without even a moment to catch my breath, I swung the staff in my hand at Ozma's side to keep him in check as he closed in.
"Not a chance!"
Kang!!
The discordant clash as the staff and rapier collided.
He reacted to this surprisingly well.
"Tsk."
Knowing it was disadvantageous to fight while holding a polearm like the staff and having given up my guard, I clicked my tongue and immediately unleashed a barrage of attacks.
Since the spar would end with just one valid hit anyway, we were both equally focused on just blocking attacks.
Ozma, who had been pushing the offense unilaterally at first, seemed surprised by my sudden onslaught of wild attacks and blocked them with a bewildered expression.
However, unlike a typical pole, a staff has its weight concentrated towards the head, giving it a rather heavy impact.
It would be difficult for a thin rapier blade to absorb all the impact, so it was clear his wrist would gradually suffer.
"Kkuh!"
As expected, while blocking the attacks, Ozma's wrist bent back slightly further. He grimaced in pain and had no choice but to retreat, unable to withstand the offense any longer.
As a result, the battle entered a brief lull, finally giving me a moment to breathe.
'How long have we been fighting?'
It felt like about 30 minutes had passed, but the shadows beneath our feet hadn't moved at all.
This meant barely 10 minutes had passed since the sparring began.
Without even thinking to wipe the beads of sweat flowing from my forehead, I checked the condition of the staff in my hand.
It was already covered in countless blade marks, both vertically and horizontally.
Even with the reinforcement of mana coating its exterior to bolster its strength, it seemed unlikely to withstand any more attacks.
Ozma, standing opposite me and breathing heavily just like I was, seemed to have similar thoughts. He extended his rapier and said, as if doing me a favor,
"How about changing your weapon now? I don't think that one will last much longer."
But I calmly shook my head.
"Like I said before, I'm really fine. I have ways to cope. Speaking of which, Ozma-nim, when exactly do you plan on using the magic embedded in that sword?"
"…How did you know?"
"When there are such clear mana circuits drawn along the blade, it's impossible not to notice."
I don't know exactly what magic is embedded within that rapier, but it's likely something useful in combat.
Perhaps deciding there was no point in hiding it any longer after hearing my words, he suddenly gripped the rapier he held with one hand using both hands and assumed a casting stance.
Then, the sapphire embedded in the sword's pommel began to emit a chilling light, and soon frost bloomed along the rapier's blade.
'Judging by the mana pattern, it's at least 4th-tier.'
It must be a considerably high-level magic sword.
With that level of sharpness, it could probably snap my cheap staff in two instantly.
Ozma aimed the blue rapier, its thin blade completely covered in icicles and frost, at me and said,
"Since it's come to this, there's no point in dragging this out further. How about we settle this with the next strike?"
"That's a great idea."
After all, our physical combat skills seemed about equal.
Therefore, it makes sense to compete using factors other than physical prowess.
I accepted his proposal, and after both of us caught our breath, the sparring resumed.
Ozma had always attacked first, but this time, I made the first move.
"Hup!"
Since its lifespan as a weapon was effectively over anyway, I unexpectedly threw the staff I held with all my might, like a javelin.
Perhaps because it was a completely unexpected attack, Ozma flinched momentarily but quickly lowered his body and dodged the staff.
"Foolish!"
The staff, failing to hit him at all, clattered loudly as it hit the ground.
Ozma, pushing off the ground, charged relentlessly towards me, now defenseless, aiming to pierce me with sharp ice daggers.
"Gotcha."
Whether he heard my muttering or not, Ozma's face was belatedly painted with bewilderment, but it was too late to stop his outstretched arm.
I spread both my hands.
My left hand spun clockwise, my right hand counter-clockwise.
The wind elements generated within my body began to rotate in different directions, creating small typhoons.
Quadra Spell-
'Spinning Wind Bone'
The tornadoes instantly wrapped around my forearms swallowed the frost-covered magic sword that had come within inches of me.
Kagagagak!
Like something caught in a blender, the magic sword's blade was instantly ground down, and Ozma's expression, gripping the hilt, turned blank for a moment.
Instead of exploiting that opening, I drove my fist, wrapped in wind elements, into the armor right before me.
Kwokwakwang!!
Then, Ozma's body, hit by the whirlwind, was sent flying like a cannonball, crashing hard into the wall surrounding the training ground.
It was the conclusion of the brief spar.
"Ozma-nim!"
Vanessa, who had been watching the spar, rushed towards the fallen Ozma.
Not only was his sword broken, but the breastplate protecting his chest had been ripped off entirely by the whirlwind, leaving it in tatters.
"Ozma-nim! Wake up!"
Vanessa held the unconscious Ozma, who had hit the wall, to her chest and urgently shook his shoulder.
"I did try to hold back my strength…"
Thinking I might have gone too hard, I approached immediately to apologize, but at that moment, I realized something was odd.
Ozma's chest, revealed through the broken breastplate, was inexplicably tightly bound with bandages.
'No way.'
Just then, Ozma, held in Vanessa's arms, suddenly opened his eyes wide.
"…What, was I unconscious?"
He awkwardly tried to sit up in Vanessa's embrace, only belatedly realizing that his chest was exposed due to the damaged breastplate and inner clothing.
Then, when his eyes met mine, he blushed and quickly hunched over.
"D-don't look!"
That's right.
It turned out Ozma, the child of Demon King Nero, was not a prince, but a princess.