Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 498 - 498 235 Thus Born

498: Chapter 235: Thus Born 498: Chapter 235: Thus Born The sweeping Blunt Sword cut through the air, the figures of two casually dressed girls intertwining as their blades clashed atop the fortress’s expansive rooftop.

Though it was merely a basic sword path practice, the chestnut-haired girl with braided pigtails gave it her utmost effort, combining all the techniques she had learned thus far with unyielding determination.

The two repeatedly exchanged blows in the basic routines of swordsmanship, yet even with identical speeds and moves—nothing beyond the standard techniques—Treya increasingly struggled to keep up with the rhythm.

A slight misstep, with her arm lagging behind her body mid-dodge, caused a horizontal slash of Olivia’s blade to pass dangerously close, forcing the chestnut-haired girl to blink instinctively in response to the looming threat.

That fraction of a second’s hesitation made her lose track of Olivia’s movements.

In her rush to lift her blade and block, Treya could no longer stop the momentum of Olivia’s sword.

The cold metal pressed against her temple, marking the end of yet another round of practice.

“You have to learn to overcome the instinct of fear.

Closing your eyes won’t protect you in battle, and your eyelids won’t stop a weapon.

Without observing your opponent, you’re destined to lose.” Olivia lowered her Blunt Sword.

“I’m sorry—I’ll try harder,” Treya stammered, panting as she apologized.

Olivia smiled gently.

“Take your time.

You’ve only just started learning, after all.”

With those words, she suggested they take a short break, and the two placed their weapons down at a nearby table laden with fresh fruit and clean water.

Treya picked up a towel to wipe off her sweat and couldn’t help but look towards her mentor.

“I’ve seen you spar with the other Lord Knights, and you always seem to predict their every move.

How do you do it?

Just by observing with your eyes?

Is there some kind of trick to it?”

Hearing this, Olivia paused mid-air, the apple in her hand hovering as she furrowed her brow, pondering how to explain this in Leon’s terms.

Suddenly, the golden-haired girl gazed at Treya, teasingly tossing the apple in her hand toward her.

The crimson fruit, freshly delivered from the apple orchard, traced a gentle arc through the air—

“?” Treya instinctively reached out and caught it in a hurry.

Olivia flashed her a smile.

“See?

You ‘predicted’ that move too.

It’s something you’re already capable of,” Olivia said with a shrug.

Clutching the apple in both hands, Treya blinked, still slightly puzzled.

Olivia patiently explained, “Think about it.

From when you were young, you’ve seen countless objects being thrown.

The more you’ve seen, the more you’ve unconsciously developed the ability to anticipate similar motions.

The only difference is in accuracy.

“That’s the purpose of martial arts training and improving your skills.

If you repeat the process enough times, when I toss an ‘apple,’ you won’t even need to consciously think.

You’ll respond automatically.”

As she spoke, Olivia rested her hands on her hips and touched her chin in contemplation.

Then, she candidly added, “Of course, Leon did tell me that talent is also a key factor.

Everyone is born different, with strengths unique to themselves.

I’m just someone who happens to have an advantage in this area.

“He made me realize that, compared to others, I seem to have a sharper perception of object trajectories.

I can notice the subtle shifts in possibilities before an object begins to move… as if I’ve already witnessed it happen countless times before.”

Treya fell into a half-understood state of thought.

Meanwhile, Olivia picked up another apple and took a hearty bite.

But she frowned slightly.

Today, the fruit tasted sweet but carried an inexplicable bitterness… and an unsettling hint of foreboding.

……

Lowering her gaze, Olivia was caught in a strange sensation.

Leon stared at the silvery arc near his throat, as though he could vividly see his own neck being severed…

It was as if he glimpsed countless moments of his own death.

But unlike before, when he fought merely to survive, his will to live now burned fiercer than ever, stronger even than during the days when he had fled for his life.

There were too many people waiting for him in Avalon…

There were still promises he had yet to fulfill.

Clenching his teeth desperately, refusing to submit to a pointless death, he struggled against the inevitable.

The sensation of exhaustion tearing through his muscles made his body feel as though it were being ripped apart… yet amidst the insatiable hunger, his heart suddenly surged with boiling blood.

He tilted his head slightly.

The Broken Knife grazed his skin, leaving behind a spray of crimson blood droplets as it cut shallowly across his throat.

——Clang!

The Thorny Sword slid from its sheath and thrust perfectly into the gap between the Broken Knife and his neck, intercepting the blade that should have plunged into his flesh.

Count Arsene raised an eyebrow, astonished by the flawless execution of the move.

Never before had he witnessed such an immaculate sword-drawing technique.

Had his opponent truly deflected a blade that was pressed directly against his throat?

——This child still has some strength left.

With his killing intent undeterred, the Great Knight added force, switching from a slice to a chop.

Whoosh!

The ferocious blade wind tore through the ground, ripping bark from stumps and scattering dirt in all directions.

Yet Arsene scarcely felt the sensation of connecting with his target.

He only perceived his stroke slicing through a wisp of dispersing wind.

He glanced to the side.

There, the black-haired knight braced against the Weak Blade of his sword, using the force of Arsene’s strike to propel himself away.

…

Planting his feet firmly on the uneven ground, his armor vibrating softly, Leon let his black hair cascade down onto his shoulders and neck.

Clutching his Long Sword tightly, Leon endured the intense pain coursing through his body, taking in the familiar yet alien surroundings with a meticulous gaze.

He seemed to see something—his senses expanding infinitely… His vision revealed interwoven outlines, dots, lines, and surfaces spiraling outwards in waves.

It was as though he had seen this scene many times before.

Within the scope of his vision, all things unfolded, “showing” him ethereal silhouettes that defined the old knight’s movements, rushing toward him from every direction.

In the next moment, countless images of his own immediate death flashed in his mind, but amidst them, he pinpointed the one sliver of survival.

No time to question or hesitate, Leon merged his actions with that singular vision… His movements aligned almost perfectly with reality.

Another gust of illusory wind swept past.

Count Arsene’s tiger-like eyes widened.

The supposedly unstoppable strike that slashed toward the black-haired knight brushed only against the hem of his fluttering cloak and flowing hair at the last possible moment.

Strands of severed hair floated alongside the tattered edges of Leon’s red cloak, as his body turned with a precision matching perfect geometry.

A flash of his sword lashed out in reverse, aiming directly at his adversary’s gaze.

Count Arsene’s pupils constricted.

By the narrowest margin, he stepped back instantly, evading the impossibly well-placed strike aimed at his eye by sheer speed.

His counterattack missed its mark, but Leon closed the distance, advancing relentlessly.

Realizing his opponent still dared to press forward, the Great Knight, infuriated, whirled his blade toward Leon’s head in a continuous slashing motion.

Following the thread of his single narrow chance at survival, the black-haired knight ducked low, leaning forward as he guided his sword handle downward.

Scrraapp!

Sparks erupted as metal screeched against metal.

Through a perfectly timed block, Leon intercepted the blow just as it was about to land on his shoulder and back, redirecting its force.

He evaded a surely fatal attack by a hair’s breadth.

Pivoting the sword hilt into the centerline, Leon’s blade slashed downward, cutting deeper than Arsene’s weapon could reach.

Arsene hastily raised his arm to parry the incoming blade, turning with the momentum to deliver a powerful kick.

Just catching the edge of the overwhelming force from Arsene’s steel boots, Leon lifted his sword to shield himself.

Bang!

The impact sent Leon flying with a heavy thud, crashing and skidding across the ground before he finally came to a stop.

Propping himself up on his sword, barely managing to kneel, Leon coughed violently, spitting out blood he could no longer suppress.

The muddy ground darkened with crimson.

Yet Leon wiped the blood from his mouth as he knelt there, teetering on the brink of death.

In that dire moment, he allowed himself a faintly triumphant smile…

The Old Earl, sensing a sting on his side, instinctively raised his left hand to touch his cheek.

Lowering his gaze, he saw…