Chapter 198
The golden sun hovered low in the sky, casting long shadows across the polished stone of the training court. A crowd had gathered around the sparring arena—nobles, servants, and guards alike—eyes fixed on the battle unfolding at its center.
A woman with vivid purple hair, tied into a high braid that whipped through the air like a banner of defiance, stood alone against four armored knights. In her hands, she wielded only a wooden practice sword—smooth, polished, but unassuming. Yet in her grasp, it moved with deadly grace.
"Begin!" barked the instructor.
The knights surged forward, swords raised high. Metal clanged. Dust kicked up. But the purple-haired woman didn't flinch.
Her body flowed like water, steps light but firm. She twisted sideways as the first knight slashed downward. Her wooden blade darted up not to meet it, but to redirect. With a deft parry, she caught the edge of his sword and pivoted, sending him stumbling forward off balance.
Without pause, she slid low like a panther and swept her leg under him. The knight hit the ground with a grunt.
The second came in immediately, attempting a quick stab to her midsection. She sidestepped with barely an inch to spare and rotated her wrist. Her wooden blade jabbed into the soft spot between his arm and chest plate, hitting his pressure point. His fingers spasmed. The sword fell from his hand.
With a clean motion, she caught his sword midair, spun, and used it to block the third knight's strike. The sound of steel striking steel rang out, but it was her wooden sword that retaliated, smacking him sharply across the helmet before her foot lashed out, kicking his chest and sending him reeling backward.
The fourth knight, older and more experienced, took a step back. He raised his sword in a high guard stance—two hands firmly gripping the hilt, blade angled downward in readiness. His stance was grounded and traditional, taught in military academies and refined in real war.
But she smirked.
"Too slow."
Her foot slammed into the ground. With a burst of speed, she dashed forward, movements blurring. She ducked beneath his first swing, twisted behind him, and struck at the back of his knee. As he staggered, she flipped her wooden blade upward with a flourish, disarming him cleanly. With a final, graceful spin, she placed the tip of her wooden sword at his neck.