6

Arthur had managed to continue to deflect a few more quick strikes from his opponent, each one somehow containing more force than the last, almost to the point where simply using his mana to reinforce his body was starting to not be able to keep up.

The next strike came with no warning, the razor-sharp tip of Reinhard's blade being thrust directly at his throat. Due to the danger, it possessed it wasn't one he was expecting, all it would take was a second too long of a reaction and the spar they agreed to would turn into a murder scene. All it took was an instant to realize his next move.

In one moment, the blade was streaking towards his throat, and in the next it had been deflected upwards, throwing Reinhard a few inches backward, before he immediately started to move to reengage but stopped as a familiar feeling washed over him.

Pure mana blanketed the space, the small streams of smoke coming to a halt as Arthur seemed to freeze, before suddenly disappearing, it was only Reinhard's many Divine Protections that allowed him to attempt to perceive what happened next.

The instant Arthur disappeared, he seemed to appear in a completely different location, before once again disappearing and flickering back into existence feet away from where he was. It was almost like he was teleporting from one location to another, but he knew better.

Arthur was simply reaching speeds he had never seen before, reaching speeds even he was having trouble perceiving.

He couldn't avoid Arthur's next attack, even as he attempted to backstep out of the blade's reach, his sword cutting the very air in half before it reached him, shredding through the Astrea crest on his left shoulder before continuing deep into his shoulder, only his earlier momentum keeping the sword from cleaving his arm in two.

Planting his foot into the ground he threw himself forward, fainting a strike from above with Reid before transitioning it to a horizontal slash.

Even with all of his Divine Protections, Arthur was able to effortlessly avoid the blade seemingly disappearing before even remotely in danger, the faint line he had been following once again fading out of existence despite the fact it had appeared only seconds earlier.

He couldn't fight when all he could see were phantom images.

The need was there.

With a single thought, the problem was solved, Arthur's flickering image coalescing into a stable image that was blurring from one location to another.

Bellowing a roar, Arthur flung himself at Reinhard, who met his attack in kind, their blades locking against each other, neither willing to relent. The shockwave that was created destroyed the ground they stood on, almost causing both of them to falter.

The clash was evenly matched, each throwing their full strength behind it, only able to move the exchange a few inches closer to the opponent.

There's no choice… Reinhard thought, his face strained.

He could honestly say this was the first time that he had been pushed this far before, perhaps it could be explained since he wasn't using two of his strongest Divine Protections, but even then, they would only activate when faced with attacks he could avoid or block, something he was struggling with.

It was apparent why he was worthy.

Swiftly, he withdrew his blade while stepping to the side, his sudden abandonment causing Arthur to precariously lurch forwards before being greeted by the opposite side of the clearing, having been punted the minute that he passed Reinhard.

Not allowing his opponent to recover Reinhard pointed his sword skywards, the mana from the atmosphere around them disappearing completely as a soft blue glow began to lick at Reid's crossguard before it rushed to cover the entire blade.

Checkmate

Not even Arthur's speed could allow him to reach Reinhard before his sword came streaking down, the world around them fading into white.

He would never admit it, but he was panicking.

It was utterly unforgivable that a person bearing the title of 'Greatest Knight' would lose his cool when it was needed most, but as the world disappeared around him, he couldn't help but start to lose control of his thoughts.

What could possibly require Reinhard to use such an attack?

Was Vollachia striking while Lugunica when it was weak, destroying the tentative peace that was only just cultivated?

A rouge attack by the Witch's Cult? There had been claims that the Sin Archbishop of Greed had decimated the Vollachian city of Garkla single-handedly, could that be it?

The white void around them disappeared as quickly as it came, the garden along with the front of the mansion looking exactly as they did seconds earlier.

Grassis had fallen to her knees, her long, light pink skirt becoming smudged by the small amount of dirt present on the stone path, and her breaths were long and labored.

She was in shock, something he was acutely aware of due to his own first experience witnessing the world disappear around him. The loss of breath, the pit opening in your stomach, and the utter powerlessness, they were something that he would never forget.

"Grassis, I need you to hide somewhere; I'll find your sister and grandparents."

He spoke with a confidence he didn't feel, the title of Finest Knight settling on his shoulders as he spoke.

"N-no, it's f-f-fine." She stuttered, her hands clenched over her heart, "It h-had to be m-master Reinhard and A-Arthur…"

Arthur…?

He didn't have time to dwell on it, all that mattered was perhaps this wasn't an attack, but that offered no clues as to why such an attack was used.

Bounding forward, Julius tore through the garden, his speed so fast that the different colors of flowers started to become streaks of color in his vision.

Even as he tugged within the boundaries of his soul, his spirits had yet to make a reappearance, the contracts with his buds were still there but no matter how hard he tried to get them to awaken they wouldn't respond.

If he was running into a fight he would be going in without his greatest asset, the factor that made him unique.

As he neared the end of the front of the manor, he turned sharply to follow the building while doing his best to conserve his momentum.

Tens of seconds later he finally began to approach the backyard, it had remained deathly quiet since he began to run, even the birds around them had gone silent as if recognizing the magnitude of the event.

Finally, he turned the corner, the backyard coming into view only moments after he finished drawing his blade, not willing to take any chances.

The backyard was destroyed, what had once been an almost serene and private area to practice swordplay was now a grassless expense of dirt, and most trees in the area stood partially uprooted with their branches largely barren. Finally, a large indent had been carved into the dirt running leftwards from him, disappearing from the clearing into the tree line.

In the middle of the clearing was Reinhard, who had frozen halfway through a stride the second he turned the corner, his gaze immediately snapping on him.

"Julius?" Reinhard spoke, his voice already filled with worry and concern, its magnitude only increasing when he noticed Julius's state.

He didn't respond, he couldn't, he was too busy standing open-mouthed at the blade clutched in Reinhard's hand, its blade seeming to emit an ethereal light, before his rapidly paling face snapped to Reinhard's left shoulder, where the once pure white cloth was now dyed an irreversible red.

"Rein…hard." He barely managed to croak out, as he stood feet away from his friend, who he could only gaze at in pure fright.

An innumerable number of thoughts ran through his mind as seconds passed, his emotions clouding his mind too much to notice Reinhard's drooping gaze before he turned away and started walking again.

Reinhard had only managed to make it a few steps before he was too petrified, as an unarmed blond-haired man emerged from the tree line, the armor that clung to him being deeply dented, a few large scratches running down his breastplate.

The mystery man was also bleeding, his forehead caked in blood and dirt, and the blue sleeve on his right shoulder was starting to spot patches of crimson as blood seemed to seep from under his pauldron.

"That was a damn hard hit," The man spoke casually as if he was congratulating a kid who had swung his first sword, "But I'd say this technically went again the terms of the duel." Punctuating his words with a wave to their surroundings.

"Arthur," Reinhard breathed, his grip on his sword loosening to the point where it started to slip out of his fingers, "You're okay?"

"I've felt better," Arthur admitted, not caring about the purple-haired man that looked like he'd seen a ghost, "But trust me when I say I've felt worse."

Julius couldn't even breathe as he waited for Reinhard's answer, the red-haired knight staring at Arthur with a myriad of emotions on his face.

"I do," Reinhard eventually stressed, "I believe you, Arthur."

It wasn't surprising when Reinhard suggested that they should talk inside the manor, the devastated backyard lacking the warmth it previously held.

As they passed through the manor's elaborate hallways, Arthur had to fight to hide a wince as the numerous injuries on his body had begun to painfully throb, the remaining adrenaline in his body fading with every step.

Reinhard was leading him through the winding halls, the purple-haired knight close behind him, having flinched the moment that Arthur got near him.

I can only imagine what the maids will think, Arthur pondered after catching a short glimpse of the twin maids secretly watching the group from another room, the controlled decorum they usually showed being shattered by the almost haunted look on Grassis's face, An injured master and guest, and a visiting knight that looks like he's surrounded by ghosts, though they don't look too far off hysterics either…

Slipping his armored glove off his right hand, he gently ran his hand through his soiled hair, bits of mud and blood sticking to it as it combed through his typically pristine golden locks.

Despite how he had acted following the conclusion of their duel, Reinhard's performance, along with how the duel had ended had completely shattered the minor rock of stability he had been floating on.

He wasn't naïve enough to believe he was unbeatable, but the fact that not even a day into his new life in this world he had run into someone who could not only fight on par with him but also beat him didn't give his hectic thoughts any chance to dissipate. The fact that Reinhard was simply a Knight also didn't escape Arthur's notice, could there be others on par with him, or even stronger?

It didn't help that the wound he had managed to inflict on the red-haired man was somehow already healed, leaving only a torn sleeve that was stained with blood.

With his gaze wandering to the purple-haired man, who wore a near identical uniform to Reinhard's own, he could at least start to convince himself that perhaps Reinhard was an outlier.

He's hiding it well now, but he's utterly terrified, Arthur rationalized as the group passed an elaborate dining hall, not to mention his weapon completely lacks the presence of the sword Reinhard carries…

Regardless of the situation, there was at least one small solace he could see, he hadn't been fighting all out, at first it was due to him vastly underestimating his opponent and not wanting to harm him. Reinhard himself had started the duel in much the same way, but something had triggered some primal fear in him, causing him to begin to fight off of pure instinct.

Besides some minor uses of Mana Burst, a technique that caused a rapid explosion of power and speed, he had never substantially increased the amount of power he was using.

Perhaps he wouldn't have been defeated if he hadn't inhibited himself, even if he was only following the rules of the duel, they had both accepted, nevertheless as his thoughts turned to his final trump card, he was at least certain that Reinhard's final attack had still been substantially weaker than that.

Without so much as a word, they reached their destination, a smaller sitting room that he could only assume was used for small, informal meetings as the room lacked the grandiose that plagued the rest of the manor.

Unceremoniously, Arthur shut the door behind him, not wanting to plague the residents of the manor anymore than they had already.

Even seconds after they had all sat at a small rectangular table that occupied the center of the room, neither Reinhard nor the other knight seemed to want to make the first move, their gazes never quite meeting the others.

The silence was beginning to be so sweltering that Arthur wished he could be the one to break it, but as the seconds ticked on, he stayed silent, mainly because he was completely ignorant of why the two were acting as they were.

A short noise drew the room's attention to the purple-haired man, his eyes flicking from Arthur to Reinhard.

"Why?" The man spoke, his yellow eyes finally meeting Reinhard's own.

The question perked Arthur's attention, who could only speculate on the weight that the question carried.

"I… I don't know," Reinhard answered, looking more like a scolded child than a Knight who had just bested Arthur in a duel.

"You. Don't. Know?" The man hissed, violently gripping the table with his hands, the fright he had felt earlier being burned away by hot rage. "You're telling me you used an attack that could level a city, and you can't tell me why?"

Ahh, Arthur thought, his gaze locked on Reinhard, waiting to see how he would respond, I'd assume with how he was lacking any hesitancy to use such an attack that they were semi-commonplace but if I had to guess now it's likely a feat few are able to pull off.

Perhaps such a conclusion should have been the obvious one, Elsa certainly wasn't capable of anything remotely close to such an attack, but she was obviously more inclined to ambush people, not to fight them head-on unless it was her only option. Nevertheless, besides the black-haired assassin, his most recent memories of combat had occurred in the holy-grail wars, where every combatant could have leveled mountains had they decided to fully commit to their strongest attacks.

Perhaps his senses were slightly skewed.

"I can't Julius,"

Reinhard's response was short, and concise, like he was addressing a superior after making a mistake, his voice monotone.

"Don't lie to me Reinhard," The purple-haired man, Julius, snapped back, "I know you too well to believe you'd use that without a good purpose."

A friend then perhaps.

"Julius I…"

"So, you've known Reinhard for quite some time then?" Arthur finally spoke his relaxed posture and lazy tone completely at odds with the stern expression on Julius's face.

His sudden interjection drew Julius's attention, a tiny flicker of fear again appearing in his eyes as they met Arthur's own.

"I've known Reinhard for years, but I forgive me for not knowing what that has to do with the situation," Julius spoke with a conviction that would have made lesser men start to sweat.

He, however, was no such man.

"Then why does your trust waver?" Arthur questioned, the words lingering in the air stifling Reinhard's attempts to wrest the conversation away from Arthur before it could even begin. "If you've known him for so long and accept that he must have a good purpose to take such action, why do you need to know what caused it, surely you don't believe Reinhard would hide it from you if it was that serious."

Arthur had known Reinhard for a little over a day, and while that amount of time wasn't nearly enough to get a good grasp of who someone was, it was more than enough for him to start to build the picture of who someone was.

Perhaps reading people was one of the few skills he had picked up during his reign as a king, it was a skill that rarely steered him wrong, and he was certain it wouldn't this time.

Alas, Julius never got a chance to answer as a violent resounding boom careened through the room, as the door to the room they occupied was aggressively thrown open.

From the now open doorway appeared a giant of a man. His arms bulged with muscles that undoubtedly continued under the plated armor that he wore.

At the very least his light green hair fit the theme of the room more than Arthur's blond.

His eyes coldly scanned the room before they stopped on Reinhard, whose own eyes were closed, with his head bowed.

"Sword Saint," The man hissed, once again bringing up the mysterious title that only Reinhard seemed to possess, "I hope you can explain whatever compelled you to make such an idiotic choice, I would hate to have to make an example out of you."

The anger in the man's tone made the anger Julius showcased look like nothing but mild irritation.

"Captain Gildark, surely for his first-"

"Juukulius, I suggest you remain quiet, the Sword Saint has already dug his own grave, there's no need for you to join him.

"Sir I,-"

"That's enough, I've had enough of the thinly veiled threats and displeased hisses," Arthur interjected, rising out of his chair.

"Be careful boy," The man warned, his blue eyes staring at Arthur's armor in contempt, "We don't need a child playing Knight here, besides," he continued as he took in Arthur's battered and bloodied appearance, "Seems you already played knight enough."

The contempt was instantly wiped off of his face after Arthur flared his mana, instantly making it harder to breathe in the room.

"Luckily enough for you, I'm not exactly playing knight," Arthur hissed back in equal measure, as he reached underneath his breastplate and pulled out a shining insignia.

"Arthur Pendragon, a candidate to become the 42nd King of Lugunica."

In the dark, unlit study in the Mathers Mansion, a man sat hunched over a desk, his heterochronic eyes glued onto the pages of a black book that was lovely placed on the desk.

If anyone had stumbled upon the scene it would have appeared as if the man was waiting for the book to write itself, to finish a story that had been abandoned halfway through. Undoubtedly such a person would have thought the man mad, his known eccentricities aside.

Perhaps he was a little mad, but nevertheless, this book was different, it painstakingly charted out the path that led Roswaal L. Mathers to where he was today.

With painful clarity this book spoke of the future, tickling his mind with knowledge that no man should have.

The book also reacted, changing itself to always show him the ideal path to his goal, regardless of the smallest hiccup or largest divergence.

Over a day ago the timeline had diverted from the path that he had been dictated to follow, and since then the book had offered no further guidance.

Such a thing was supposed to be impossible; this book would always show him the path to his goal. The only reason it would fail to show the path at all was if the path no longer existed.

The very thought that the cumulation of his life might be out of his reach took the life out of his body, and not even the pick haired maid that checked on his regularly could pry his eyes away from the blank pages.

Just as it felt as if the despair was going to completely drown him, a flicker of movement caught his eye.

As if responding to a fateful declaration the elegant black script began to move, rearranging itself into new words that charted a new future, a new path.

Greedily his eyes scanned the page, and as the last word of his ordained path ended, he began to chuckle, a frenzied laugh tore through him, and even as his office door slammed open, his vision was replaced with a mop of pink hair, he couldn't stop.

That boy would never have a chance.