Chapter 13 

“I’ll go first.”

“Alright.”

Elena launched all her water spears at him and charged forward. But Van, as if he had no intention of letting such a basic spell land, swept them aside with his blade. 

He had instantly infused his sword with mana to dispel the magic. It was not something just anyone could imitate. Then he shifted his body ever so slightly to dodge Elena’s attack and swung his sword at her in return.

Startled, Elena braced herself, tightening the muscles in her back and waist to block his strike. A loud clang rang out, and soon the clash began to tilt in Van’s favor. It had only been a single collision, yet the difference in strength was glaringly obvious.

Left with no choice, Elena redirected Van’s sword.

“Lightweight.”

Van muttered with a mocking sneer. Gritting her teeth, Elena swung her sword again, putting every ounce of strength into the blow. But Van simply laughed and easily deflected each of her attacks.

It was a frustratingly one-sided exchange.

“So that’s the standard of your knight order.”

Van’s relaxed demeanor only intensified Elena’s growing desperation.

D**n it…

After all that training, and she couldn’t even leave a scratch. 

Once. Twice. Elena threw her entire body into it, engaging her core and legs, but Van blocked it all effortlessly.

“Enough. Your courage is admirable, but your skill isn’t up to par… What a dull spar. Let’s end it here. I’m about to fall asleep.”

Spurred on by his scorn, Elena swung her arm faster.

“Is that really all you’ve got?”

She caught sight of Van’s crooked smirk just beyond the clashing blades. She was giving it her all, and yet she couldn’t even graze his clothes. Just how much more effort would it take to land a single blow?

With fury in her veins, she swung her sword again.

Clang!

But Van’s sword intercepted hers. The force of his strike numbed her grip, and her weapon flew from her hand. His blade pressed coldly against her neck.

Ah…

It was a complete and utter defeat.

Was the skill she’d spent nearly ten years honing really so useless? Neither magic nor swordsmanship had worked. How could she possibly stand against him?

All the ‘what ifs’ she had dared to entertain crumbled into nothing. Was it sheer arrogance, thinking she could save Tyrtan like this?

“Listen carefully.”

“…Pardon?”

Van picked up the sword Elena had dropped and held it out to her. Still stunned by defeat, Elena blinked as she looked at the weapon in his hand.

“That’s an order.”

Van’s brow furrowed at her dazed expression. With a scowl, he pressed the sword into her hands.

“Captain…?”

Van sheathed his sword and stepped closer to Elena. Standing directly behind her, he reached forward and placed his hand over hers on the hilt. Elena flinched, lips parting in surprise.

“Tighter. Like you’re wringing it out.”

Van’s hand adjusted slightly to the right, applying pressure over hers as if guiding her grip. His added strength radiated heat. She could feel his warmth against her back, and when his low voice brushed against her ear, a shiver ran down her spine.

“It’s basic, but… when swinging a sword, don’t rely only on your arm. I know you were tense, but you were telegraphing like a complete beginner.”

“…I’m sorry.”

From top to bottom, Van guided her arm in motion.

Her mind raced, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening. Meanwhile, he moved her arm horizontally, then vertically, swinging the blade several times.

“Well, that should count as a kind enough lesson. I’ll give you another chance next time.”

Van finally withdrew his hand. The absence of his touch made the air feel cold.

“…Thank you. I’ve learned a lot.”

Van turned and walked over to Pantherman, who had been standing on the opposite side. Elena, feeling as if she’d been toyed with, blankly watched him go before slowly bowing her head.

“No need to see anything else. I’ll take my leave.”

“Yes, thank you, Captain.”

With that, Van gave a curt farewell to Pantherman and left the training ground. As soon as he was gone, relieved sighs echoed from every direction.

“Vened, thank you.”

“You saved us.”

“And you didn’t freeze up either. Well done. Your courage is truly admirable.”

While Pantherman stepped away briefly to follow Van, the knights who had been watching approached Elena one by one to express their gratitude. Marlene, eyes brimming with tears, even threw her arms around Elena in a tight hug.

“You’re my hero!”

“Hero, my foot. I’m burning up.”

“Really? Should I get you some water? Or maybe talk to the vice-captain and get you out of the next few training sessions? Huh? Just say the word!”

Elena pushed Marlene away, but she clung to Elena’s arm and continued her fussing.

“Marlene, you’re being annoying.”

Trying to shake off the lingering feeling of Van’s touch, Elena mentally reviewed the sparring match.

No matter the skill gap, she hadn’t expected it to end so quickly, so utterly. Her insides were crumbling, but she forced herself to keep a composed face. Deep down, she wanted to cry. But even that, she suppressed as she peeled Marlene off of her.

“Sniff… Still, you’ll always be my hero! You know that, right? Our friendship is forever!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As Elena and Marlene bantered back and forth, Enoch joined in. Seeing him nodding solemnly with his arms crossed, Elena shook her head with a sigh.

“Attention, everyone! From now on, train like it’s the real thing just like Vened did. And… well done, Vened.”

Pantherman had returned and praised Elena, who was still looking defeated. But his words barely registered.

All it meant was: your killer instinct was useful. The rest? A mess.

“Thank you, Vice-Captain.”

Clutching her bruised pride, Elena gave a small bow. While still bent forward, she clenched and unclenched her fists. For some reason, the warmth she’d felt when Van held her hand seemed to linger.

* * *

On the way back to the Grand Duke’s estate, Van replayed the spar in his mind.

Skill-wise, it was about what he expected. But the bloodlust she’d hurled at him… that had stung. Compared to the Elena he remembered from childhood, she’d changed remarkably. And despite that change, when she stood before him, his d**n instincts kicked in and he couldn’t help but teach her.

It had been a completely unnecessary move. With a sigh, Van laughed bitterly to himself.

Come to think of it, he never would’ve imagined, back then, that their relationship would turn out like this. Then again, it was also before he knew he’d one day be chasing after Tyrtan Vened so fervently.

“Your Grace, you seem to be in good spirits.”

“Do I? Well, if that’s how it looks, sure.”

Heinen, who had been waiting for him at the estate, remarked on Van’s expression.

Van sat down at his desk without thinking. He was about to review the documents from Serheim when he noticed something was off. The desk was slightly out of order. What stood out the most was a letter tucked between the documents, one that had been moved.

“A rat’s been in here.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Anyway, what’s the update on Quirea?”

Van had a feeling Elena had seen the letter. But he didn’t say it aloud. Even if she had, what did it matter? She was probably in league with Tyrtan anyway.

“There’s been no word yet.”

“I see.”

The moment Van had heard from the Adventurers’ Guild that Tyrtan had been spotted in Tussla, he’d sent Quirea there immediately. Quirea knew Tussla better than any of his other people, and more importantly, she knew Tyrtan Vened. Sending her had been the best choice.

“She’s hired some well-known mercenaries in Tussla, so there’s no need to worry too much.”

“Is that so? I hope that’s true…”

Leaning all the way back in his chair, Van tilted his head and frowned.

Even shredding him with claws and feeding him to monsters wouldn’t be enough. Just the thought of Tyrtan Vened soured his mood.

“By the way… is Vened holding up alright?”

Heinen asked cautiously. Both Quirea and Heinen knew how Van felt about Elena. They’d known him since he was a child, of course they knew.

“Quirea once said it was suspicious how Tyrtan managed to slip through our network in the first place.”

“Quirea’s always hated Elena Vened.”

“You too, Your Grace.”

“Well… maybe.”

Tyrtan had erased his tracks brilliantly over the past ten years. Quirea suspected that Marquis Masen, Tyrtan, and Elena were all working together. She believed the three of them were sharing information to stay out of Van’s reach.

“Elena Vened? What could she possibly do? She’s probably not even involved. Hell, we should’ve killed her when we had the chance…”

But Van disagreed.

There was no connection between Elena and the Marquis. Even with people shadowing her, nothing suspicious had come up. Objectively, that had been proven. Moreover, Elena hadn’t made any real progress in finding Tyrtan. Even if she knew he was in Tussla, there was absolutely nothing she could do.

“…Back then, you said you had your reasons.”

“Yeah. I did.”

Van pressed his fingers hard to his temples. That’s what he’d told Quirea and Heinen. That he had his reasons for not killing Tyrtan.

Yes… the day the fire engulfed the Vened estate.

That wasn’t how he should have let Tyrtan go. But at the time, he had no choice, Van thought as he shut his eyes. If he didn’t, this dull, nagging headache would never go away.

〈You crazy b*st*rd. Did you really think you could escape me?〉

The Vened estate’s drawing room. When he’d followed Aurin in… the room had erupted in flames.

……

T/N: That reminds me. It was fire that killed the Veneds, and dragons are supposedly vulnerable to fire, which means Aurin, Tyrtan, Marquis Masen and possibly even Elena’s mother knew about it – that they had betrayed Van and planned to kill him