Reborn As A Maid

The Grand Royal Arena had changed dramatically.

The initial excitement had lingered, however, there was an additional air of anticipation surrounding the crowd that seemed to hum like an electric charge before the coming of a storm. The quarterfinal fights had entered their closing stages, and the contests that preceded those were quite hard to beat in terms of their quality and level.

Kai Viper had managed to survive Gareth Gerat who had proven himself as a powerful spear-and-shield warrior.

Mira Kingston had managed to beat King Gale using an extremely intense contest involving fire and fangs. It had destroyed the floor of the arena.

Only few contenders had been left to fight, and one of them had become the most popular among people who followed the tournament.

Raven.

White Sword Hunter.

A mysterious swordswoman, who had participated in the tournament with an ordinary practice sword. She had managed to defeat some experienced warriors. She had managed to survive against Dar Vane. And she had accomplished it all without using any Divine Sword.

But now—

Now she faced the greatest challenge ever.

"The next quarterfinal fight!"

The voice of the announcer had boomed in the entire arena with the help of the wind magic.

THE NEXT QUARTERFINAL!

The crowd burst into enthusiastic shouts that shook the very arena itself.

THE WHITE SWORD HUNTER—RAVEN!

Jennie stepped into the arena.

Her white cloak had been moving slightly behind her under the influence of the morning sun, and her ordinary practice sword had been hanging in her hand.

Once the spectators had seen the latter, their excitement had reached its peak.

Jennie had looked around nervously, turning red. "Why are they so loud today?"

Roxy leaned on the railing, shouting in joy. "Because you’re getting popular, girl!"

"I told you I’m not going to be!"

Snow barked out aloud.

Jennie had looked at him angrily. "Stop encouraging them!"

Snow wagged his tail, laughing.

The crowd started laughing, too, somewhat calming down.

Then the other gate opened.

The laughter suddenly faded away.

A tall warrior stepped inside of the arena, and the crowd immediately burst into enthusiastic shouts welcoming the contender. His name was Ser Valtor Cain—one of the tournament favorites, a legendary knight from the western kingdoms who had kept his record of invincibility throughout more than fifty official duels.

His armor was dark silver, and it was covered with numerous scars that reminded one of the hundreds of duels he’d taken part in. There was a long scar across his jaw that he got during the life-threatening duel. And in his hands was the giant sword, a long single-edged blade with the threatening glow.

The crowd erupted with new enthusiasm.

"VALTOR! THE IRON BLADE! VALTOR CAIN!"

Jennie’s face became serious, her playfulness gone.

She had heard about him—even before arriving in Seraiya, Roxy had said something about him being really good at what he does. Valtor had managed to beat three great sword masters during one year, breaking his way through the ranks of the most powerful warriors of the continent. He had a reputation of being an extremely strong man and a knight with exceptional skills in the swordsmanship. Moreover, he had no intention of treating Raven seriously.

Valtor had stopped several meters away, looking at her intently. His eyes had fallen on her practice sword, and a faint smile appeared on his face.

"So, the rumors say the truth."

Jennie tilted her head to the side, curious. "What rumors?"

"That you refuse to use any appropriate weapon."

Jennie glanced at her ordinary practice sword, scratched and scarred by the previous contests. "This is my weapon."

Valtor laughed. "Technically."

Jennie smiled, feeling relieved. "That’s enough for me."

The crowd laughed in response.

Valtor’s face became serious, his gaze sharper. "But you haven’t understood me yet." He tightened his grip on the handle of his weapon, his fingers turning white. "I am not Dar Vane."

Jennie’s smile faded away, and her face turned serious. "I understand."

"And I’m not going to underestimate you just because you’re young."

That had gotten Jennie’s attention; she widened her eyes.

Valtor had lowered his posture, holding his great sword at the ready. "Bring everything you have."

Jennie had looked at him, breathing heavily.

Then she had nodded slowly. "Okay."

High above the arena, Arthur Queens had leaned forward, watching the scene below him.

Lucas stood near him, and his face had been unreadable.

They hadn’t spoken to each other, neither of them did.

Lilia sat quietly between the two men, her hands clasped in front of her.

Arthur’s eyes were focused at the girl, his voice whispering. "Something changed."

Lucas nodded, his eyes following the same person. "She is not joking anymore."

Arthur frowned, thinking intently. "That’s not what I meant."

He watched the way Jennie stood—with her right foot for stability, her left shoulder for defense, the precise angle of her wrist, the relaxed position of her fingers.

Arthur’s expression had changed; he turned pale.

Lucas noticed it; his eyes became worried. "What?"

Arthur had not answered him immediately. He had seen that posture before—not recently, not in any alive knight. In the old records, in ancient paintings, in tales of the veteran knights who survived the Great Demon War.

Arthur whispered, his voice trembling. "Impossible."

Lucas looked at him with a frown. "Father?"

Arthur remained silent, looking at Jennie, thinking.

The referee entered the arena, his voice piercing the atmosphere.

"Both contestants are ready?"

Jennie lowered her practice sword, taking a combat position.

Valtor lifted his great sword, the sharp edge of which flashed.

"Begin!"

Valtor made his move.

He crossed the distance between them incredibly fast, considering his size. His sword descended with immense power at Jennie’s shoulder.

Jennie blocked.

BOOM!

Her feet slid backwards, leaving deep cuts on the stone floor of the arena.

The crowd gasped, and their voices rose in panic.

Jennie looked at her practice sword—it had survived, but her arms were shaking from the impact.

Strong.

Valtor started attacking her immediately, relentlessly.

Jennie shifted left, dodging his attack, and the blade passed by her just like a flash.

She stepped forwards, and her practice sword struck his ribs.

THUD!

Valtor barely moved.

Jennie had jumped backwards, surprised.

His armor had absorbed the blow.

Valtor smiled, completely confident. "My turn."

He made a swing, swinging his great blade at her head.

Jennie ducked, the weapon barely missing her head.

She had turned around, rotating her body skillfully.

Valtor turned the sword around with the same grace, performing a perfectly coordinated movement.

Jennie blocked.

Her feet skidded, digging furrows into the stone.

The crowd screamed in terror.

Jennie looked down at her practice sword—the blade had survived but her arms were shaky from the impact.

Strong.

Valtar instantly launched another attack, his moves being merciless.

Jennie stepped to the left, the sword flying past her, its passage making the air whistle.

She stepped forward and stabbed Valtar in the ribs with her practice sword.

THUD!

Valtar barely moved.

Jennie jumped away, her eyes widening.

His armor absorbed her attack.

Valtar smirked confidently. "My turn."

He swung his sword, its blade heading toward her head.

Jennie ducked and avoided the strike, which was precise and merciless.

She rotated, her body moving smoothly with the rotation.

Valtar rotated the weapon, making the same maneuver.

Jennie blocked the strike.

BOOM!

The strike knocked her backward, her body sliding several feet on the stone ground.

The audience screamed, their voices being full of fear.

Jennie stopped her slide with one hand and pushed herself up.

Her expression remained cool and focused, her eyes being clear.

Valtar looked at her, his voice filled with amazement. "You managed to block it?"

Jennie glanced at her practice sword, a tiny smile appearing on her lips. "Obviously."

Valtar laughed, his laughter being sincere.

And he made another attack.

The battle became more fierce and intense.

Valtar was incredibly powerful—all his strikes were capable of destroying even stones and cutting metal. Jennie was incredibly fast—her movements were smooth, graceful and hard to track.

Steel sword vs. wooden training blade.

Steel sword vs. wooden training blade.

Every strike resounded in the arena like a thunder clap.

CLANG!

THUD!

CLANG!

Jennie ducked, the great sword flying past her head by inches.

Valtar made another strike, his blade cutting the air.

Jennie jumped and avoided the strike, landing on the blade’s surface for a fraction of a second before she leaped away, using the weapon to get behind Valtar.

Valtar widened his eyes, his composure breaking.

Jennie landed behind him, her practice sword already moving.

He tried to rotate, but he was too slow.

Jennie stopped her practice sword right under his neck.

The audience exploded in cheers.

Valtar froze, his eyes wide.

Jennie lowered her practice sword and spoke quietly. "You left your back unprotected."

Valtar smiled sincerely. "Well, I guess I am learning."

He suddenly rotated the sword, making a large rotation with it.

Jennie stepped backward and evaded another sweep.

Valtar’s expression changed—he stopped fighting to win and started to enjoy the battle.

"Again."

Jennie smiled again. "Sure."

The battle continued.

Ten rotations. Twenty. Thirty.

Nobody surrendered and nobody faltered.

Valtar’s skills were incredible—he did everything in purpose, every move of his sword was deliberate. He did not waste any energy or made any superfluous movements. He was herding Jennie to the edge of the arena, just like some patient predator.

Jennie recognized his tactics and narrowed her eyes.

He controls the battlefield.

She glanced at the boundary—just one step further and she would lose.

Valtar made another strike.

Jennie blocked, her arms shivering from the effort.

Another strike.

She evaded it, the sword missing her with the precision of the strike.

Another strike.

She jumped and avoided the sword, it hitting the ground where she used to stand.

Jennie immediately stepped forward, her wooden practice sword flashing.

She stabbed his wrist.

Valtar twisted his sword and avoided her attack.

She stabbed his shoulder.

He blocked, his armor absorbing the impact.

She stabbed his knee.

He jumped and avoided the strike.

Jennie rotated, her body turning into a whirl of movements.

Her wooden sword stabbed him in the chest.

Valtar stumbled, his balance breaking.

The audience cheered, their voices raising from the excitement.

But Jennie did not stop.

She instantly increased the speed of her movements, making them even more furious and rapid.

Valtar’s eyes widened.

She is so fast.

Her wooden sword struck his arm, his shoulder, his side, his thigh—the strikes were precise, deliberate and deadly.

Valtar could not do anything to avoid them, his sword was too slow and heavy.

Jennie’s expression changed—it was not anymore playful, she was serious and focused.

Arthur stood and grabbed the balcony railing.

Lucas stared at Jennie, his voice filled with awe. "This footwork..."

Arthur’s face became white and his voice was trembling. "The timing."

Jennie stepped to the side, Valtar’s strike missing the target.

She rotated her wrist, the wooden sword performing a rotation with impossible preciseness—she made a movement which could not be done.

Arthur’s eyes widened, his breath caught in his chest. "This counter..."

Lucas whispered, recognizing the movement. "Crescent Step."

Both men fell silent.

It was a legend—it was a move which was allegedly invented by the greatest swordsman in history, which enabled a swordsman to step into the strike and out of the way at the same time.

It was used only once.

The Sword King.

Arthur stared at Jennie, his mind racing. "How does a sixteen-year-old girl know this technique?"

Lucas shook his head, his voice confused. "I have no idea."

Arthur grabbed the balcony railing, his fingers turning white with pressure. "It cannot be a coincidence."

Valtar suddenly let out a roar and his aura exploded.

He raised the great sword above his head, its blade glowing with deadly light.

"IRON STAR!"

He unleashed the power, the ground below him shattering into pieces like glass.

The audience screamed, their voices being full of fear.

Jennie felt the pressure—Valtar’s strike hit her like a mountain falling down.

For the first time, she stopped smiling.

Valtar charged, his great sword falling with apocalyptic force.

Jennie raised her wooden practice sword, her arms shivering from the effort.

The impact shook the whole arena, making the wave of energy spreading out.

BOOM!

The practice sword bent, its wood making sounds.

Jennie’s knees bent, her body fighting with the weight.

Valtar pressed harder, his voice triumphant. "You cannot block this!"

Jennie gritted her teeth, her muscles crying out in pain. "You’re right."

She suddenly released the pressure and sidestepped at the last second.

Valtar moved forward, stumbling and losing the balance.

Jennie moved—she took one, two, three steps.

Her body moved around him like water, her movements being graceful.

Crescent Step.

Valtar’s eyes widened, his composure breaking.

Jennie appeared beside him, her practice sword moving.

She stabbed his wrist—his great sword fell to the ground.

The blade moved, hitting his shoulder, his chest, his knee.

Then she stopped the practice sword at his throat.

Silence.

Valtar froze, his eyes wide.

Jennie was panting, her body shivering from fatigue. Her practice sword was shaking in her hand, its surface cracked and splintered.

Valtar looked at his fallen sword, then at Jennie.

He slowly smiled, his voice filled with respect. "...I lost."

The referee raised his flag and spoke loudly, breaking the stunned silence.

"WINNER—RAVEN!"

The arena exploded in cheers, shaking the heavens.

"THE WHITE SWORD HUNTER! RAVEN! RAVEN!"

Jennie lowered her sword, her heart beating fiercely.

For several seconds, she just stood still, panting.

Then she smiled.

Valtor grabbed his sword, moving slowly and carefully. He walked toward Jennie, his expression blank.

"You held back."

Jennie blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I know." He glanced at her broken wooden sword. "You could have brought something much more dangerous."

Jennie fell silent, looking downward.

Valtor smiled warmly. "But you didn’t."

He held out his hand. "That way, it’s less humiliating for me to lose."

Jennie chuckled brightly.

She shook his hand, smiling warmly. "You’re very strong."

Valtor stared at her, his eyes wide open. "I don’t understand how frightening it is to hear those words from you."

Jennie chuckled once again, all tension of the fight melting away.

Roxy leaped from her seat, shouting happily. "JENNIE!"

Jennie glanced at her, smiling.

Roxy was smiling proudly, her eyes filled with emotions.

Snow was jumping from her seat with excitement, howling with joy.

And then—

Rudy popped up behind Roxy, shouting across the arena.

"That was wonderful."

Roxy frowned angrily, her face turning dark. "Don’t."

But Rudy didn’t listen to her, covering her mouth with both her palms.

"RAVEN! MARRY ME!"

Jennie nearly fell over, blushing hard.

Everyone in the arena burst into laughter, cheering happily.

Roxy spun around, frowning angrily. "RUDY!"

"What?"

"STOP!"

Snow tumbled to the ground, howling with laughter.

Jennie covered her face with her hands, mumbling embarrassedly. "I’m going home."

But Arthur wasn’t laughing anymore.

Neither was Lucas.

They stood motionlessly on the royal balcony, watching Jennie intently.

Crescent Step, timing, pose, swordsmanship, and even the way she finished the fight—it all sounded like the legends.

Lucas slowly said, his voice trembling. "Father..."

Arthur didn’t say anything.

"Do you think she could be someone we know?"

Arthur finally looked at him, his face worried. "No." He sounded decisive, but there was some doubt in his eyes. "She can’t be."

Lucas looked toward Jennie again. "Then who taught her?"

Arthur had no answer to give.

Below, Jennie was walking away from the arena, carrying her broken practice sword.

She had won.

Not with Excalibur. Not with Leviathan. Not with Tempest.

Just with a practice sword.

And somehow, that scared Arthur even more than if she used divine power.

Because Divine Swords could explain impossible strength. But Jennie’s swordsmanship—that was something different. That was experience. That was instinct. That was skill.

That was something that should belong to a legend.

Arthur whispered her name quietly.

"...Jennie."

Lilia heard him, frowning. "She looks somehow familiar?"

Arthur instantly turned his head, regaining his composure. "Nothing, Your Majesty."

But Lilia kept staring at her, not taking her eyes away from Jennie.

Jennie paused at the arena’s entrance, turning around slightly.

For a few seconds, she looked toward the royal balcony.

Lilia suddenly felt her heart tighten, an ache spreading in her chest.

Once again.

This feeling.

This strange familiarity.

And now—

Aurelia reacted.

Divine Sword of Light started glowing gently, radiating golden light with recognition.

Lilia looked down in astonishment, calling surprisedly. "Aurelia?"

The sword glowed twice, as if reacting to somebody standing below.

Lilia slowly looked toward Jennie.

Jennie was already moving away from the arena, her silver hair disappearing in the shadow of the corridor.

Neither of them knew what had just happened.

But in Lilia’s forgotten memories, a little girl was smiling.

And standing next to her was her white-haired maid, holding a wooden sword.

A promise echoed in the darkness.

I’ll protect you.

Lilia stared with wide eyes, breathing shakily.

For a few seconds, she almost remembered.

But then the memory disappeared, leaving nothing but painful warmth behind.

And below, the White Sword Hunter vanished into the darkness of the corridor.

The legend of Raven was only just starting.

But Arthur Queens was already asking the more dangerous question.

Who was she really?