The Knight Commander's Sword
Two days earlier, I sat by the campfire and told the two of them my plan.
"I'm going to defeat Marquis Reut myself and get through him. There's no other way."
Their reactions were immediate.
"Your Highness, are you feeling unwell? You were human, right?"
"I thought you'd finally come to your senses, but no—you've gotten worse! Can't I just go home?"
...Seriously.
Why were these people so impatient?
"Hey, can't you at least listen to how I plan to fight him first? Then you can call it mutiny or send me home or whatever you want! Geez, you're harsh."
"And who's being harsh here?! How exactly do you plan to do that, Your Highness? What could you possibly do against the Commander? What difference does a 'plan' make?"
"You really should've taken an interest in magic earlier."
I sighed.
How could a society full of unbelievers like this have any future?
Still... I couldn't entirely blame them.
'Yeah, if I were in their shoes, I'd be laughing too.'
To be fair, wasn't a game that rewarded players with huge stat boosts per level.
In other words, just being a high-level character didn't mean you could steamroll everything.
If you maximized elemental matchups, traps, and psychological plays, even a level 6 could beat a level 9.
That was the kind of unpredictable, variable game this world was.
But there was one big problem.
Me.
'I'm not even level 6 right now.'
Gilroshan—the hopeless level 0.
No wonder they looked down on me like trash.
"Fine then. Tell us, what's your plan? Is there really some way?"
At least the little witch looked like she wanted to believe in me.
How touching.
So I explained in more detail.
"I'll challenge the Marquis to a Noble Duel and knock his sword right out of his hand. Simple, right?"
"Wh—what? That's impossible!"
"Then I'll just have to make it possible."
[Formal Duel] An ancient one-on-one combat system rooted in the Imperial law and noble tradition of the Valt Empire.
All rules, including victory and defeat conditions, are mutually agreed upon by the participants, and validated by an appointed witness.
It was one of the PvP modes built into .
And the key point—
'The duel's rules can be entirely decided by the participants.'
That was the true beauty of the Noble Duel system—
and the core of my plan.
I'd been aiming for this from the start.
"Kals, you'll be the witness. Got it?"
He immediately looked grim.
"Your Highness, what kind of rules are you planning to propose? If they're too strange, Commander Reut won't accept them—and neither can I!"
Of course I knew that.
A witness wasn't a referee—they were someone who guaranteed the fairness and outcome of the duel with their honor on the line.
I had no intention of making unreasonable demands.
No, I planned to set a trap.
"Alright, listen carefully. I'll propose three rules to the Marquis."
First: Swordsmanship only.
Second: Dropping your sword means immediate defeat.
Third: Remove all armor.
"That's it."
Kals's face darkened even more.
"Your Highness, those rules...?"
"Can you guess my intent?"
He shook his head furiously.
"No. And I was about to say those rules are completely against you!"
He wasn't wrong.
Kals started listing them off, one finger at a time.
"First, the 'swordsmanship only' rule might seem to favor you since you can't use mana—but it doesn't. The Commander is already the strongest swordsman alive!"
Whether he used mana or not, he could crush me like an insect.
That was Marquis Reut.
"Second, 'drop your sword and you lose,' right?"
"Right."
The loyal knight scowled deeply.
"That heavily disadvantages you! It's common sense—the weaker fighter is more likely to drop their sword! What's the meaning of this, Your Highness?"
He had a point. Who would expect a Swordmaster to drop his sword?
If anyone dropped it, it'd be me, the useless prince.
"And 'remove all armor'? Absolutely not! As your bodyguard, I cannot allow this! It's a death sentence! I forbid it!"
In a no-mana fight, removing armor was incredibly dangerous for someone untrained like me.
Kals was dead serious, shouting like his life depended on it.
He wasn't just worried I'd lose—he was worried I'd be killed.
But I grinned.
"Relax. I've got a reason."
Let's start with that 'remove armor' rule.
"The Marquis won't kill me. He can't."
That made Kals blink.
"Why are you so certain?"
The reason? On the surface, it was simple.
"I'm a prince. He's a Marquis."
A vassal couldn't kill a royal blood heir.
Kals sighed.
"Your Highness, deaths in a noble duel are exempt from punishment. Even His Majesty would accept it."
Indeed. Under Imperial law, killing during a sanctioned duel was exempt from all charges.
If it was a fair duel, anyone could kill me—and walk away free.
So legally speaking, Marquis Reut could kill me.
But I shook my head.
"Kals, this isn't about legality. It's about perception and honor."
He blinked.
"What do you mean, Your Highness?"
Let me put it this way.
"Imagine switching roles. You're Marquis Reut—a Swordmaster who's trained for fifty years."
"...Okay."
Quick imagination. Good.
"Then one day, some snot-nosed little upstart picks a fight with you. A spoiled brat with no training challenges you to a duel. How do you feel?"
"Hmm... ridiculous. Laughable."
Exactly.
"So would you really cut that brat into a thousand pieces? Or maybe just take an arm and tell him not to act up again?"
"Well..."
Kals thought for a bit, then frowned.
"I wouldn't. Not for my honor's sake. The Knight Commander isn't some mindless killer."
Bingo.
The delinquent Third Prince versus the Swordmaster Marquis.
Between us was a gulf as vast as heaven and earth.
Would he really go all out against me?
Would he aim a lethal blow at my heart?
'When all he has to do is knock my sword away to win?'
Of course not.
And that's why—by removing my armor, I could turn the situation completely on its head.
I'd be more at ease—and the Marquis, more cautious.
'He'll be afraid of injuring me too badly and tarnishing his precious reputation.'
That effect was guaranteed to happen.
"So no matter how much the Marquis might want to kill me, armor's unnecessary. Got it?"
"...Hmm. When you put it that way, it actually makes sense."
Kals nodded, and I smiled faintly.
Of course, I didn't mention the real reason behind this decision.
'Because the one watching... is you, Kals.'
His son would be right there watching.
And could a father really strike down his son's liege lord in front of him?
Not unless he wanted to destroy his relationship with Kals forever.
So no—he'd never do it.
"That's why I'm sure I won't die by the Marquis's hand. He may want to tear me apart, but he won't."
"Uh... but, Your Highness," Kals suddenly looked at me, eyes narrowing.
He'd noticed something.
"Why do you say the Commander wants to tear you apart? What do you mean by that?"
...Ah.
That was something I couldn't explain just yet.
I couldn't exactly tell him, 'Because your father wants to kill me for your sake!'
So I brushed it off.
"Ahem, well, there's... some bad blood between the Marquis and me. Let's just leave it at that."
"What?"
Yeah, no matter how curious that face looks, I'm not elaborating.
"Now then, onto my next assurance."
We were trekking through the forest—me, Kals, and Bamilo.
There was something important we needed to do.
I was short of breath from talking so much, but both of them needed to hear this.
"I know the Marquis's weakness."
That immediately caught Kals's attention.
"Ah! I know one too! His alignment between mana and swordsmanship isn't perfectly harmonized!"
Even Bamilo nodded beside him.
"I've heard that as well. They say his mana output efficiency isn't the best, right?"
Not wrong, but not what I meant.
"...That's a flaw only when compared to other Swordmasters."
Compared to me—a man without any mana—that was practically divine perfection.
No, the weakness I knew about the Marquis was far more petty and dirty.
"Right now, his right shoulder's in bad shape. It's practically paralyzed."
"...!"
"...!"
Both Kals and Bamilo's eyes went wide.
After all, this wasn't known anywhere—not even in the Imperial Palace.
In the original story, Marquis Reut appeared with his right shoulder already paralyzed for unknown reasons.
Even if the player got close enough to earn his favor, he never displayed his full swordsmanship—because of that injury.
"Is that true? This is the first I've heard of it."
"Yes, it's true."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"...Uh, well."
Time for a little creative lying.
"I happened to overhear His Majesty and the Commander of the Royal Knights talking about it once."
"Hm. I see."
Thankfully, Bamilo seemed satisfied with that.
"If that's true, Your Highness—!"
Kals suddenly clapped his hands together.
"Then the Commander can't use his main technique, Vanguard Swordsmanship! It requires both arms—it's a dual-blade style!"
"Exactly. That's the point."
Heh, nailed it for once.
[Composite Technique | Rank S]
A secret dual-blade style of the Reut family, one of the Empire's foremost houses of swordsmanship. It pursues the philosophy of stillness within motion through the perfect harmony of paired blades.
Special: When wielding the Reut family's ancestral sword, damage increases by 20%.
'Vanguard Swordsmanship—the top-tier style among all dual-blade techniques.'
It was this technique that elevated Elron Reutto the rank of 9-Star Swordmaster.
It was also the perfect match for his Roaring Sword.
But me? I didn't have to fear it.
Because right now, the Marquis couldn't use Vanguard Swordsmanship.
His right shoulder was so damaged he could barely move it, meaning that entire technique was sealed.
Dual-blade swordsmanship required both shoulders—it was impossible otherwise.
"Oho! So he can't use his signature technique? Then maybe... there is a chance!"
Bamilo's eyes brightened with hope.
Kals, however, quickly regained his composure.
"Even so, a Swordmaster is still a Swordmaster."
As a knight, he was thinking realistically.
Even with one shoulder crippled, the Marquis still had his left arm—
and that was more than enough.
"His one-handed swordsmanship is still at a 7-Star level. Even with one arm, he's leagues above you, Your Highness!"
"...You little—"
I know that already! Did he have to say it so bluntly?
Whose side was this guy even on?
Still, he wasn't wrong.
"Yeah, you're right. I admit it."
I might as well acknowledge the truth.
Even without Vanguard, the Marquis had other sword styles—
Riarpetto Swordsmanship, Fishtic Swordsmanship, Penam Swordsmanship...
Each one powerful enough for him to crush any 6-Star opponent without breaking a sweat.
But even so, I could still see a glimmer of hope.
"Because I know exactly which sword style the Marquis will choose."
"...!"
After losing access to Vanguard, which technique would he fall back on?
How would he move? Where would he strike first?
All of it—I already knew.
"You even know that...?"
For the first time, Kals's expression shifted.
If I truly knew which style the Marquis would use, everything changed.
In this world, sword styles had strong elemental affinities.
Some seemingly weak techniques could become overwhelming counters when matched against their natural enemies.
And I only needed one opening.
'If you drop your sword, you lose.'
That's why that rule was non-negotiable.
I only needed one chance.
If I could knock his sword from his hands, the duel would end in my victory.
"In that case... even a tiny shred of hope might be worth trying. If you won't be harmed, Your Highness, I'll permit it!"
...Do I really need my own knight's permission to fight?
Whatever.
'There's one last thing I haven't told them, though.'
One more piece of the plan was already taking shape in my mind—
the final puzzle piece that would complete my strategy.