110. Dawn Encounter

“Ahem, I apologize for the unseemly spectacle.”

Rayen Levius awkwardly brushed the dirt from his body, thanks to the unexpected roll.

Standing unsteadily, he entered the tent and introduced himself as if nothing had happened.

“Greetings. I am Rayen Levius, the Crimson Thorn of Helmund. Some call me the Young Master of Levius.”

“Yes.”

Rianna offered a curt nod to Rayan’s greeting, utterly unlike the woman who’d unleashed a torrent of divine wrath at Loengreen’s words just moments ago.

“Actually, we’ve met a few times. Perhaps you recall?”

“You attended my wedding.”

“Indeed. As expected of Lady Rianna, your memory is remarkable.”

Not that she particularly remembered him.

She’d simply sent invitations to the Levias household and assumed he was among those who attended.

After all, most of the great aristocratic families made an effort to attend such weddings.

Not to curry favor, but to foster camaraderie between nobles, and because the atmosphere was conducive to pairing off young, unmarried nobles.

“Though things have come to this pass… well, is it not the Goddess’s will?”

“Yes.”

Rianna continued to reply plainly.

It wasn’t that she disliked him or felt offended.

She truly felt nothing at all.

There was no need to fret or reason to care, so no words came to mind.

“A woman is often likened to a flower, but befitting your epithet of ‘Crimson Rose,’ I anticipate you will bloom most beautifully on the battlefield.”

“Yes.”

Conversely.

Who was Rayan Levias?

The man who counted Marlène as his younger sister.

He was far beyond accustomed to this kind of conversation.

‘A clash of spear and shield!’

Sharen, who’d been watching blankly from the side, widened her eyes and pulled a pastry from her pouch.

*Crunch, crunch.*

“Should you find yourself in a perilous situation on the battlefield, call upon Rayan Levias. This humble body of mine will come running even if I have to sacrifice a leg for your sake.”

“Yes.”

The spear may be wavering slightly, but the shield remained firm.

Truly captivating.

‘It would have been nice if Isaac could watch too!’

*Crunch, crunch!*

* * *

The next day, early in the morning.

Isaac awoke as usual and began to wield his sword.

The two-handed greatsword held firmly in his grasp.

Especially Baekseol, forged from Frostsilver, felt unusually chilling.

‘Does it know we’re nearing our homeland?’

The earring Silbrena had crafted for him was also emanating a sharp cold.

Lately, Isaac had been feeling a frequent resonance between Baekseol and the earring.

So, I started holding Snow White in my left hand on purpose.

Since I only wore an earring on my left ear, it seemed a better match, somehow.

“Hmm.”

A murmur, a general’s exclamation, drifting through the sharp air of dawn.

Grand General, Eisenwolf, stood rigidly off to one side, already armored.

Isaac bowed his head slightly. Eisenwolf approached, asking,

“Is that some kind of swordsmanship these Transcendents dabble in?”

“…Similar, but different. Strictly speaking, I’ve tailored it to my own needs.”

“Eisenwolf, greetings, I must apologize for my tardiness.”

Eisenwolf offered his hand for a shake.

Isaac took it politely.

“Isaac Logan, sir. I have heard much about you.”

“Princess Adeline mentioned I should seek your counsel often, Lord Logan.”

“You flatter me. I merely possess, perhaps, a slightly broader understanding of the Transcendents than others.”

“We have come here to subjugate demons, and reclaim the north. It is not assured that the Transcendents are interfering in the present condition.”

“…The Malridian Barrier has not reported any such events.”

Having vanished so suddenly, everything was shrouded in mystery.

But Isaac felt certain.

“The Transcendents are undoubtedly involved. No one else could orchestrate such an oddity.”

“Hmm, do you have any basis for this?”

“A phenomenon that defies human understanding. I have never seen it made real except by the Transcendents.”

“Because there are no other possibilities, that must be the answer?”

“Precisely.”

Eisenwolf’s expression hardened, impassive. It seemed his answer was not to his satisfaction.

But even Isaac struggled to explain the incomprehensible nature of the Transcendents’ power.

“I am a Grand General leading an army. I find it difficult to accept such schematic assertions.”

“Understood.”

“Nevertheless, I will remember it within this heart, of this man Eisenwolf.”

Isaac’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. That was enough, and Isaac bowed his head without further comment.

Then.

“Ah.”

A familiar woman came into view.

Rianna Helmont.

Donning a greatsword and emerging outside at dawn led one to think she came out for some morning exercises.

But considering she had walked towards Isaac’s tent, it wasn’t difficult to surmise that she had a distinct intention.

“Hmm, this old man must be on his way. My knees grow cold standing here at dawn.”

*‘Though your thighs are surely twice as thick as mine.’*

“And refrain from causing too much disturbance, if possible. Even ten minutes of sleep is precious to the soldiers of the frontlines.”

“Thank you.”

Receiving Rianna’s gratitude, the hale old warrior with the sturdy legs tactfully withdrew.

A man and woman stood, facing each other.

Their relationship, somewhat strained.

“I greet the head of the Hellmundt household.”

Isaac offered the first words.

He’d assumed it would be like yesterday, but Rianna’s lips protruded ever so slightly.

Then, succinctly:

“A duel.”

Rianna proposed.

“Let’s.”

“……”

Isaac slowly sheathed the swords he held in both hands.

He’d warned Roen Green so vehemently against dueling yesterday.

It was rather amusing that he was the one here now.

But perhaps he knew it himself, and that was why he’d come secretly at dawn.

Rianna knew Isaac trained early in the morning, after all.

No other conversation passed between the former couple.

They stood at a distance, facing each other.

Heads bowed in unison, offering respect to the other.

Then, they settled into their stances.

Rianna’s greatsword was drawn with a majestic flourish. Simply standing there, holding it, the greatsword Ragnaravel exuded an aura of dominance.

*Chiik!*

Isaac stepped his right foot back slightly, dragging it across the ground.

Instead of dust, the chill of the North rose up, and their breath steamed into the air.

Isaac moved first.

‘If I cede the offensive, I’ll never win.’

He doubted he could even overcome Rianna’s strength in the first place.

The twin Iaijutsu blades, drawn simultaneously, resembled the wings of a bird; they were called Biyok – *Flying Wings*.

Isaac’s preemptive strike cleaved even the air.

*Kaaang!*

Yet, Ragnaravel merely stood its ground and blocked it.

Behind the greatsword, red eyes stared at Isaac, unblinking.

*Koong!*

The greatsword, meeting the twin blades, was swung as if to shove him away.

No animosity was invested.

Even so, had Isaac not retreated with a premonition, he would have been overwhelmed and sent tumbling to the ground.

The distance widened again.

Without another word, Rianna stepped forward, an unreadable expression on her face, greatsword poised.

*Koong!*

With a leap that shook the earth, she closed the distance in the blink of an eye.

‘Hellmundt, then – .’

The sword’s trajectory, already foreseen.

Helmunt’s greatsword leaned toward an emphasis on brute strength.

Therefore, she would subtly favor stances and paths that best channeled that force.

KRA-aaaNG!

Ragnavel slid past Isaac’s two tilted swords, like water over stone.

‘Good.’

Despite deflecting it, the impact sent a jolt through his hand, but enduring Rianna’s strike with so little damage was already a triumph.

He was about to launch a counterattack, the moment ripe.

“…!”

He realized that the hand gripping the greatsword was connected to only one right arm.

Her left arm, having abandoned the sword, was now swinging towards Isaac.

The jeokgang she’d so carefully concealed was revealing itself here.

The jeokgang blooming on her arm formed a shape akin to a demonic beast’s hand.

Not just in this life.

He’d never seen such a technique, not even in his previous one.

A finesse uncharacteristic of Helmunt, a house devoted to the greatsword.

WHOOSH!

“…!”

The jeokgang, mimicking the appendage of some monstrous being, lunged to seize Isaac’s neck, but halted just short.

And with that, the duel was decided.

“I yield,”

Isaac conceded, lowering his sword, as Rianna calmly retracted her jeokgang and nodded.

“I wanted to show you… no, I wanted to show you, Baron Logan.”

“Me?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Rianna, unsure how to address him, remained stiff and formal.

But her intent was clear.

“Because of you, Helmunt has been completely deciphered.”

“……”

“Just now. If I had simply swung the greatsword without thought, *I* would have been the one whose trajectory was read, leading to trouble.”

“……”

“The Helmunt of now is different. It has changed, and it will continue to change.”

Isaac’s eyes widened.

Rianna, having sheathed her greatsword, bowed deeply and respectfully once more.

“I have learned a lesson.”

That was.

Not merely about the duel they’d just had.

It was gratitude for showing them how to break the mold of Helmunt and find a path forward.

“Could we… perhaps meet again tomorrow?”

It felt like a conversation written in a letter. To her request, so like a plea, Isaac nodded with a gentle smile.

“0 to 1. Tomorrow will be different.”

Liana’s lips quirked, a ghost of a smile in response.