Yavi raised his head to look at Loriess, a glint of sharpness flashing through his ice-blue eyes. "I only need to defeat Hill?"
The corners of Loriess's lips lifted in a meaningful smile. "Of course. As long as you can defeat Hill, everything I just said stands."
"All right." Yavi agreed without hesitation, his voice as calm as if he were merely discussing the weather.
Beside them, Vivian frowned slightly and hurried over to Hill, lowering her voice. "Miss Hill, please, you must fight and defeat Yavi... Otherwise, the situation will become extremely unfavorable for us. If you win, I'll give you another thousand crowns afterward as thanks for fighting. Would you..."
Hill watched Yavi in silence, her slender fingers unconsciously rubbing the cuff of her silver fencing uniform. Sunlight streamed through the training ground's dome, casting scattered patches of light on her epaulettes embroidered with starburst patterns.
"Miss Hill..." Vivian's voice held a pleading note. "You're the only one who can..."
Hill turned her head slightly, her silvery-white hair gleaming coldly in the sunlight. She spoke coolly. "Understood."
With that, she walked slowly toward the dueling platform. Her tall silver boots rang crisply against the flagstones, and the sword at her waist swayed gently with her steps. The noise within the training ground gradually subsided as everyone held their breath, watching the swordsmanship school's top student.
Hill walked slowly to the center of the dueling platform, her long, silvery-white hair shining with a cold luster in the sunlight. She stopped and fixed her sharp gaze on Yavi. "You're Mel's younger brother? I really never heard that Mel had a younger brother."
Her voice was not loud, yet it instantly silenced the entire training ground. A breeze brushed past, lifting a corner of her silver fencing uniform.
Yavi did not answer Hill, meeting her words only with silence.
"Interesting." Hill suddenly gave a soft laugh, her slender fingers brushing lightly over her sword hilt. "I sense something unusual about you... Of all the younger generation I've met, you're the strongest."
Her gaze gradually deepened, as though piercing Yavi's body to look straight into his soul. "What surprises me even more is... I actually see traces of my father and uncle in you. That feeling only warriors who have been baptized in blood possess..."
Hill slowly drew her sword, cold light flowing along its blade. She pointed its tip at Yavi, her voice low and firm. "An ordinary match would be too dull. I want to see your true strength-how about we fight with real swords?"
Cries of surprise immediately rose from the sidelines. Mel went deathly pale and instinctively leaned forward. "Senior Hill! That's too dangerous!"
Hill ignored her and continued staring at Yavi. "I hope you'll fight with the intention of killing me. Only then can we force each other to reveal our true strength."
With a flick of her wrist, her sword tip traced a silver arc through the air. "Of course, if you're afraid, there's still time to concede."
Mel shot up from her seat, clenching both fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Yavi!" Her voice trembled noticeably. "We're not fighting anymore... At worst, we'll just pretend we never won. This is too dangerous!"
Her long, fiery-red hair fell into disarray from her sudden movement, her eyes brimming with anxious tears. As his older sister, she knew all too well what this match meant-it had already gone far beyond an ordinary spar.
Yavi paused slightly, but soon returned to normal. He turned his head and gave Mel a reassuring look, the corners of his lips curving into a gentle smile. "Don't worry, Sis."
Then he turned to Hill, a sharp glint flashing through his ice-blue eyes. "If I'm slain during the match, I accept it willingly."
At his words, Hill's silvery-white lashes trembled lightly before she revealed a rare smile. "Willingly, you say." She placed a hand against her chest and dipped her head slightly. "If I lose, the same goes for me."
Loriess suddenly rose from her seat in the stands, her crisp applause breaking the silence. "Splendid." She walked slowly down the steps. "But if you fight with your own swords, differences in weapon quality could make the match unfair."
She walked to the training ground's wall and waved a hand, sending two decorative ceremonial longswords floating before them. The gems set into their scabbards sparkled in the sunlight. "How about these? They're decorations, but their blades have been sharpened."
Without hesitation, Hill unfastened her own sword and took the longsword floating in the air. With a flick of her wrist, the blade left its sheath with a clear, ringing dragon's cry, gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
Yavi also took a longsword, running his fingertips lightly along its spine and feeling the cold touch of metal. He casually twirled it, its tip tracing a perfect arc through the air.
Both stepped back three paces and stood facing each other. Hill held her longsword upright before her, lightly touching the blade with her left hand as she performed a standard swordsman's salute. Yavi lowered his center of gravity slightly, holding his left fist across his chest and resting the sword in his right hand lightly upon his left arm. The strange stance made Hill frown slightly, a trace of confusion flashing through her silver-gray eyes.
The students watching from the sidelines also began to whisper:
"What kind of stance is that?"
"I've never seen an opening stance like that..."
"It looks full of openings."
Hill maintained her elegant sword stance, but her gaze remained fixed on Yavi's unconventional posture. She had never seen such a stance in any school of swordsmanship-his left hand formed a loose fist before his chest, while the longsword in his right seemed to rest casually on his left arm, yet his whole body resembled a taut bow, harboring an indescribable sense of danger.
What she did not know was that this was the witchers' most classic Sign Sword Stance. That seemingly casual left hand could unleash powerful Signs at any moment, while the sword techniques of his right hand would coordinate perfectly with them to launch lethal attacks. In this match, however, Yavi had already decided not to use any Signs-this was purely a tribute to his training of old.
As Yavi settled into his stance, his gaze abruptly turned cold and sharp, like polar ice that never melted. Every emotion drained from those ice-blue eyes, leaving only pure killing intent. He looked at Hill as though examining a lifeless corpse-calm, precise, and utterly devoid of feeling.
Hill felt a bone-chilling cold creep up her spine. Her fingers involuntarily tightened around her sword, her knuckles paling slightly. As the swordsmanship school's top student, she had fought countless matches, yet she had never seen such a horrifying gaze-it was neither a warrior's fervor nor an opponent's hostility, but an almost mechanical, cold calculation that existed purely for slaughter.
That gaze... Hill thought. He's like a monster that walked out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
The whispers at the sidelines stopped abruptly, everyone cowed by the sudden change in Yavi's aura. Mel covered her mouth, disbelief filling her eyes-she had never seen her younger brother wear such an expression.
Hill forced herself to steady her breathing, narrowing her silver-gray eyes slightly. She suddenly realized that the blond youth before her exuded an aura possessed only by someone who had truly fought battles of life and death. That cold disregard for human life was something no academy-trained swordsman could imitate.
"It seems," Hill slowly adjusted her breathing, her sword tip rising slightly, "I really did underestimate you."
The sunlight remained bright, yet the temperature within the training ground seemed to plunge. Two longswords gleamed coldly in the sunlight, a true battle of life and death poised to erupt.