Avery’s chest heaved, sweat dripping down her brow as she parried yet another of Emma’s relentless strikes. Her arms ached, her legs trembled, and the realization hit her like a hammer:

‘If this keeps up, I’m done.’

Exhaustion was creeping in, sapping her strength with every dodged blow, every countered thrust. She couldn’t let it drag on, she’d lose to sheer stamina if nothing else.

‘No choice.’ She thought, her jaw clenching. ‘One final strike—everything I’ve got.’ She had to end it now, before Emma’s uncanny precision wore her down completely.

So, as Emma’s sword clashed against hers, Avery seized the moment.

With a surge of strength, she parried hard, the force sending Emma stumbling back a step.

Now!…Avery lunged forward, planting her foot deep in the dirt, and raised her sword high overhead. She brought it down in a brutal arc, aiming to slash from Emma’s shoulder to her abdomen—a lethal, unstoppable blow, one she’d used to cleave through seasoned foes.

There was no way Emma, a junior, could block or dodge this.

The match would be over, the bet won, her dignity intact.

But it didn’t land.

To Avery’s utter shockand the crowd’s collective gasp—Emma turned the stumble to her advantage.

Instead of flailing, she bent low, her body twisting with a fluid grace that belied her exhaustion. The sword whistled over her head, missing by inches, and in that same motion, she swept her leg out.

Avery’s eyes widened as she felt the strike—right at her ankles, her weakest point when she overcommitted to a high swing.

Her base, already unstable from the force of her attack, gave way. She hit the ground hard, her sword clattering beside her as dust billowed around her sprawled form.

And before she could scramble up, a shadow loomed overhead. Cold steel pressed against her throat, and she looked up to see Emma standing over her, sword steady, her face flushed and breathless but resolute.

The junior’s eyes glinted with exhaustion and triumph, and in that moment, Avery knew—she’d lost.

The crowd held its breath, the silence deafening as she lay there, pinned by the blade and her own disbelief.

Then, with a reluctant, weary smile, she sighed.

“I concede.” She said, her voice rough but genuine, tinged with both surprise and a flicker of pride.

The moment those words were utteres, the silence shattered.

The knights exploded into shouts and cheers, the grounds trembling with their commotion as they stormed the dueling area.

“She won?!” One yelped, clutching her head.

“Emma beat Avery—how?!” Another laughed, incredulous.

“That sweep—did you see it? Took her down like nothing!”

Two groups formed in the chaos: one swarmed Emma, seniors ruffling her blonde hair and praising her with hearty slaps on the back—”That was insane, kid!” “How’d you pull that off?!”—while she ducked her head, shyly accepting their awe with a flustered grin.

The other clustered around Avery, hands pulling her up as they reassured her. “Don’t sweat it, Commander—you’re still a beast!” “She was just too damn good today!”

Avery brushed off the dirt, her smile widening as she waved them off.

“No worries.” She said, her tone light despite the sting of defeat. “Honestly, I’m impressed—didn’t think she had that in her. She’s got skills, and I’m damn glad for it. That’ll carry her far in a real fight.”

Her humility shone through, no trace of ego in her words, just a veteran’s pride in her junior’s growth.

From his little seat on the stump, Cassius watched silently, a faint nod of approval crossing his face—her grace in loss impressed him more than she’d ever know.

Emma, catching Avery’s words, broke away from her admirers and hurried over.

“Commander!” She called, her voice earnest. “Thank you for being my dueling partner. But I’m not that impressive, really—if it weren’t for what the Young Master told me, I’d have gone down in the first second…No question.”

Her words drew Julie, Aisha, and Skadi closer, their curiosity piqued. Aisha stepped forward, her tail flicking as she fixed Emma with a sharp gaze.

“Alright, spill it.” She said, her tone brimming with intrigue. “What exactly did he tell you? What’s the trick?”

Emma glanced at Cassius, her eyes seeking permission and he gave a casual nod, his grin widening as he leaned back, hands behind his head.

“Go ahead.” He said. “Tell them—it’s no secret now.”

Emma took a breath, then turned to the group, her voice steady despite the crowd’s eager stares.

“It wasn’t a spell or magic or anything like that.” She began, surprising them all. “It was really just advice—like he said.”

“He told me how to beat her, how to fix my own fighting. He pointed out my mistakes—every single one, down to the tiniest slip—like how I overreach on my swings or drop my guard after a parry.”

“Then he told me how to clean it up, step by step, so I wouldn’t leave openings. And for Commander Avery…”

She hesitated, then pressed on.

“He gave me everything about her—her weaknesses, her strengths, her attack patterns. Every detail, like he’d crawled inside her head and mapped it out.”

“He told me where to strike—her left shoulder, her ankles when she swings high, the way she shifts her weight and how to dodge her moves before she even made them. It was…perfect.”

The knights leaned in, their murmurs growing as Emma reached into her pocket and pulled out a few crumpled sheets of paper.

“Here.” She said, handing them out. “This is what he gave me—Lucius wrote it down while he talked.”

Aisha snatched one, the crowd surging forward to peer over shoulders as they unfolded the pages.

What they saw made their eyes widen, their breaths catching in stunned awe.

The papers were a marvel—line after line of meticulous notes, detailing Emma’s and Avery’s fighting styles with a precision that bordered on supernatural.

Every micro-movement was there: Emma’s tendency to lunge too far, corrected with a note on timing; Avery’s subtle heel weakness when she overextended, paired with a sketch of her stance mid-swing.

Strengths, flaws, habits—down to the way Avery favored her right side after a parry or how Emma’s grip loosened on a backswing—were laid bare, illustrated with tiny diagrams of their forms.

It was as if Cassius has seen them battle thousands of times, dissecting their every clash with flawless accuracy, then distilled it into a battle plan tailored to Emma’s hands.

“Holy…” One knight muttered, tracing a finger over an illustration.

“He’s got her ankle thing—never even noticed that!” Another gaped.

“Look at this—Emma’s wierd stance, fixed with one line. How’d he see that?”

The crowd buzzed, their shock deepening as they passed the pages around, Aisha’s eyes narrowing as she studied the notes, her tail stiff with disbelief.

Julie’s voice cut through the crowd, low and tense.

“No one’s this good.” She said, her gaze flicking to Cassius. “Not even a battle-honed master could pick out every flaw like that—not this fast, not this deep. It’s like he’s micro-analyzing them in real time.”

Skadi nodded, her usual bravado replaced by rare bewilderment.

“I can spot weaknesses quick—couple swings, I’d know Avery’s tricks.” She said, her silver eyes wide. “But this? Every tiny move, every habit, down to the angle of her grip? I couldn’t do that—not like this. How’s he doing it?”

Aisha’s jaw tightened, her voice sharp as she stared at Cassius. “It’s him.” She said, pointing at the lounging noble. “He’s some kind of freak—those notes, that fight? He turned Emma into a mirror of Avery’s worst nightmare in minutes.”

The knights turned as one, their eyes locking onto Cassius and Lucius, who stood proudly at his master’s side, his chest puffed out like he’d orchestrated the victory himself.

Cassius met their stares with that same easy grin, unruffled, as if he’d expected every gasp, every wide-eyed glance. The crowd’s shock hung thick in the air, their questions unspoken but burning—How? What are you?, as they waited, breathless, for him to explain the impossible.

But it was Julie who broke the spell, stepping forward from the sidelines with a measured stride, her presence commanding silence as the knights turned to her.

Her pretty green eyes locked onto Cassius, still lounging on his stump with that infuriatingly calm grin, and she took a deep breath, her voice cutting through the hum.

“To be honest…” She began, her tone steady but tinged with a rare vulnerability. “I didn’t trust you at first, Cassius. What you said about advice making them strong enough to fight beyond their realm—it sounded absurd…Utterly impossible.”

“…Even for a grandmaster like me, pulling that off so easily? I couldn’t fathom it.”

She paused, her gaze flickering to Emma and Avery, then back to him.

“But after seeing this duel, after watching what you did with Emma, and reading those notes…I concede. I believe you now. And I’m sorry for doubting you before.”

A murmur rippled through the knights, their heads nodding as her words echoed their own shift.

They’d been skeptical too—how could they not be?—but the proof stood before them, undeniable and staggering. Julie’s admission carried weight, and it tipped their collective doubt into reluctant faith.

She stepped closer, her curiosity sharpening her. features as she fixed Cassius with an intense stare. “

But I’ve got to know—how? How did you do it? How did you note down every single detail, every stance, every flaw, like you’d peered into their future and mapped it out?”

The crowd surged forward, their own questions bubbling up as they pressed in around the stump.

“Yeah, how’d you see all that?!” One knight called, clutching a page of notes.

“It’s like you knew them better than they knew themselves!”

Another added, her voice thick with awe. Their eyes burned with a mix of wonder and demand, all trained on Cassius.

He leaned back, his grin softening into something almost sheepish as he waved a hand.

“It’s not that big a deal.” He said, his tone light. “I just did what anyone would’ve watched the fights earlier and used that to give Emma what she needed to win.”

The knights blinked, confusion creasing their brows. Julie’s eyes narrowed, and Aisha stepped up beside her, her tail flicking sharply.

“What do you mean, ‘watched the fights’?” Aisha asked, her voice edged with skepticism.

Cassius straightened slightly, his grin turning sly as he met their stares. “Well, the reason I had you all duel at the start—pairing up, switching around? The thing was I wasn’t just passing time.”

“…I was observing—taking in every move, every habit, every strength and weakness. That’s what I was doing when I walked through the field with Lucius, noting it all down.”

Aisha’s ears twitched, her frown deepening.

“Okay, I get that you were scouting their styles. Figured as much….But that doesn’t explain how. How’d you catch every single aspect—every tiny detail—when you were watching what, dozens of duels at once? That’s not normal.”

The crowd murmured their agreement, their curiosity spiking as they realized the scale of it. He hadn’t just watched one fight—he’d tracked all of them, simultaneously, amidst the chaos of clashing steel and shouting voices.

How could anyone, even a skilled commander, process that much at once?

Cassius shrugged, his casual air unshaken. “Simple.” He said. “I watched them really watched them. Took in every detail, every swing, every stance, and locked it in my head since I’ve got quite the decent memory.”

“Then I ran simulations—hundreds of them—in my mind. Pictured how each fight would go if one knight faced another, every possibility, every outcome. Avery winning, Emma winning, both going down—I played it all out, over and over.”

“…I then used that to figure out the best path for Emma to beat her, then gave her the notes to follow that path. Told her to stick to it, nothing else.”

The knights froze, their jaws dropping as his words sank in. Aisha’s eyes widened, her voice bursting out in disbelief.

“Impossible!” She snapped, stepping forward. “Y-You’re not a machine—you can’t just run hundreds of simulations in your head like that! You’re human, not some…some calculating monster!”

But then she faltered, her words trailing off as a memory flickered yesterday’s fight, Cassius tearing through their enemies with a speed and precision that defied reason, his movements bordering on the demonic.

Her ears twitched, her eyes narrowing as realization dawned. He wasn’t like them—not fully.

He was something else, something beyond the bounds of ordinary humanity, a mind and body honed to an unfathomable edge.

The crowd felt it too, a collective gulp rippling through them as they stared at him, their awe tinged with a creeping unease.

They weren’t just facing a noble or a master—they were in the presence of something incomprehensible, a force that could see through them as easily as glass.

Julie’s mind raced, her thoughts spiraling as she pieced it together.

If he could do this, dissect a dozen fighting styles in minutes, simulate countless battles in his head, and craft a perfect strategy from it—then what else could he do?

An army under his command, each soldier honed with advice this precise, this tailored…It’d be unstoppable.

Kingdoms would fall, empires would crumble.

A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined it: Cassius, with that mind, building a force no one could match. The throne itself wouldn’t be out of reach—not for someone like him.

And yet, as she watched him lean back on his stump, grinning lazily like the bet was just a game, she felt a strange relief.

His lustful antics, his carefree demeanor—maybe that was a blessing.

If he lusted after women Instead of power, if he stayed this way, chasing skirts rather than crowns, then the world might dodge a disaster.

Because if he ever turned that mind to conquest…

She swallowed hard, hoping—praying—that he’d keep his focus on making women moan, rather then the throne…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep