CHAPTER 9

Chivalry (2)

Watching the Dullahan dismount from his horse, Leon confirmed his suspicion.

"As expected, a noble knight indeed."

Leon summoned a sword into the air. It was an old but sturdy iron sword, radiating a powerful aura.

He had no armor. The divine armor forged by Heto, the god of iron and blacksmiths, had long since been destroyed after countless battles.

Holding his greatsword in one hand, Leon glanced at the Dullahan, who carried his head at his waist, and spoke with consideration.

"You may set your head down. Your swordsmanship—surely, it is meant for two hands. A true duel cannot be fought with just one."

"...Your Majesty," came a cautious voice.

Hari approached carefully.

"What is it?"

"Um… Dullahans don't die unless you cut off their heads."

"And?"

And? How else did he plan to defeat a Dullahan without beheading it?

"It does not matter. The duel is about a knight's honor."

But that doesn't change the fact that it won't die!

Ignoring Hari's protest, Leon watched as the Dullahan handed his head to a skeleton and gripped his sword with both hands.

"The first knight of Ariana, goddess of light and justice. The Grand Duke of Dragonia and the Lionheart's King of the Lionheart. I grant the honorable knight the right to challenge me."

Even before his grand, old-fashioned declaration had fully left his lips—

Clank!

In an instant, the Dullahan, clad in rattling armor, closed the distance and brought his greatsword crashing down.

A heavy thud rang out, but Leon's sword remained unscathed. The two blades pressed against each other in a fierce contest of strength.

"A-are they evenly matched in power?"

Manager Kim, who had barely steadied himself, spoke hesitantly.

Hari, however, silently disagreed.

Leon wielded an ordinary longsword, while the Dullahan's weapon was a massive greatsword, nearly twice its size. On top of that, the Dullahan had the advantage of weight and downward momentum. And yet, Leon didn't budge an inch.

'What kind of strength…'

Leon was overwhelming the Dullahan in raw power. In fact, it was Leon who seemed to be at ease.

The Dullahan gripped the blade and tried to press down even harder.

But in that fleeting moment, Leon twisted his sword slightly, deflecting the force, and in an instant, he maneuvered into a sword wrestling position, aiming directly at the Dullahan's heart.

"Once."

No one misunderstood the meaning of that declaration.

The Dullahan stepped back two paces, then spun his body.

A whirlwind arose as his greatsword, carrying the full force of his weight, swung with crushing power—an attack meant to break through any defense.

At first, it seemed as if Leon was going to block it directly with his sword, but then—

He used the sword's pommel to absorb the impact.

The longsword, driven deep into the ground, held firm, completely stopping the greatsword.

—!

The next moment, Leon's foot struck the Dullahan's chest. It wasn't a swift kick, more like a strong push. Yet, somehow, the Dullahan's stance collapsed, and he fell onto his back.

Immediately, Leon pointed his sword at him.

"Twice."

The hunters watching couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

Leon's kick had seemed like nothing more than a light shove, but the Dullahan had lost his footing.

To an outsider, it might have looked as if the Dullahan had allowed himself to fall.

"What just happened?"

"Amazing…"

"Hari?"

Only Hari had understood.

She had trained in swordsmanship from a young age and knew the subtleties of combat.

Boxing, fencing—people assumed they were all about punches and sword swings, but in truth, every martial art emphasized one thing:

The balance of weight, rooted in the lower body, and the subtle movement of footwork.

Even a light jab, even the smallest flick of the wrist—all of it stemmed from the body's weight and balance.

What Leon had done was disrupt that balance.

'It looked like he focused all his strength into his kicking foot, but the real trick was in his planted foot. He used magic to create a shockwave in a 2.5-meter radius, shaking the ground itself.'

A technique that could unbalance an opponent by shifting the ground beneath them. It was a double-edged sword that could also destabilize the user—

But Leon had executed it so naturally, completely shattering the Dullahan's stance.

The kick had merely nudged someone already teetering at the edge of a cliff.

To do such a thing so fluidly, in mere moments—

"Regain your stance."

The Dullahan, rattling, stood up again. And the same thing repeated itself.

The Death Knight Dullahan had once been a knight who sought honor and glory.

But cursed by a necromancer, he had been forced to lead an undead army.

Though the necromancer's control had long vanished, all he could do now was remain in this unknown place, repelling intruders.

As he led his undead army to fight once more, he believed this battle would be no different from any other.

There was only one exception.

"You are splendid!"

Leon Dragonia Lionheart.

A man who had boldly challenged him to a knight's duel.

It had been so long since someone had treated him as a knight.

It could have been a trick—most would assume as much when asked to dismount from their horse.

But a true knight would be enraged by such deceitful tactics.

Look at him.

Look at this knight.

The aura of a seasoned veteran, standing tall with dignity, his eyes filled with honor and ambition.

This was the pinnacle of knighthood.

The one all knights admired, respected, and yearned to challenge.

How could anyone suspect him of deception?

"Ten times. Your swordsmanship is becoming sharper. Have you retrieved your memories from life?"

Ah.

A noble knight indeed.

The Dullahan finally understood.

Leon was not here to simply defeat him.

He was treating him as a true knight, allowing him to relive his glory days.

"Shall we continue, knight?"

The Dullahan signaled his skeleton soldiers to retrieve his head. Then, kneeling, he presented it to Leon.

A complete surrender.

"You have reclaimed your honor. I am glad beyond measure."

Leon placed his hands upon the Dullahan's head and solemnly spoke.

"I shall pray for you. May your god grant you peace, and if you have none, may the goddess guide you to the farthest reaches of the garden."

How long had it been since he had fought without honor?

How long had he battled meaninglessly?

"May we meet again at the banquet hall of the gods, noble knight."

Tears of gratitude welled in the Dullahan's eyes.

"Let there be light."

A warm light radiated from Leon's hands.

In that moment, the Dullahan knew he had found his peace.

He crumbled away, along with all his skeleton soldiers, his final, silent words echoing through the dungeon.

"Glory to Leon Dragonia Lionheart!"

The dungeon boss, the Death Knight Dullahan, had fallen.

The battle should have continued—normally, the remaining undead would need to be cleared out.

But in his final moment, the Dullahan had dismissed his own army, truly acknowledging Leon's victory.

"Y-you actually settled it with a duel…"

"That light just now… was that divine power?"

Nobody had ever confirmed the existence of gods, let alone witnessed their power.

Yet, what Leon had just done—purifying an undead with a mere touch—was something straight out of myths.

"If you had such power, why didn't you use it earlier?"

"That would have denied him his honor."

To restore a fallen knight's dignity, to let him choose his own fate…

The hunters stared at Leon, realizing something.

This was not logic.

Not reason.

Not practicality.

This was something greater—a flower that blooms only in defiance of rationality.

And for that, it was beautiful.