“I’m sorry, Nathan. I knew you were worried about causing trouble for our guest, and yet... I couldn’t hold back. I only meant to ask once and step aside...”

“There’s no need to apologize. I should’ve been firmer, knowing full well what kind of person you are, Sir Weliven.”

“And yet I still feel sorry.”

The exchange, like one between a father and son, was interrupted by another loud explosion from the training ground.

Turning his head, Weliven let out a groan as he saw the knights scattered everywhere and Yuder having retreated slightly from his original position. A sigh mixed with awe and disappointment escaped his lips.

“Ah... we missed it while talking.”

“Too bad. It was a spectacular moment,” Kishiar added with an annoyingly amused tone as he kept his eyes on the ongoing spar.

“The knights nearly pulled off Joint Tactic No. 13—a formation designed for large-scale monster encounters—but Yuder broke through it with just a dagger, an explosion of flame, and then slipped out using wind.”

“Joint Tactic No. 13... That’s the one we designed for monsters capable of destroying houses with casual movements, isn’t it?” Nathan Zuckerman murmured with a slight furrow in his brow. His face looked mostly normal on the surface, but both Kishiar and Weliven, who knew him well, could tell he was genuinely impressed.

“That’s right,” Kishiar replied with a chuckle. “It was created to handle monsters strong enough to level buildings without effort.”

Then he asked Weliven, “Has the spar been progressing like this the whole time?”

“By ‘like this’... you mean the knights forming tactics and Yuder breaking through them?”

“Yes.”

Weliven shook his head.

“The free-for-all format was suggested by Baron Aile from the start, yes—but at the beginning, the knights couldn’t adapt to the idea of fighting such a high-ranking guest. Many of them just charged in one by one as if it were a one-on-one duel.”

He explained that most of the knights now lying outside the ring were those who’d been taken down during that initial phase.

“It was truly something to see. He knocked them unconscious so effortlessly it was almost frightening.”

Once a few had gone down that easily, the others started to feel the pressure. So instead of attacking one by one, they began to charge en masse from every direction. Normally, in such chaos, a person would be overwhelmed, or they’d get hit in the blind spots—but Yuder showed no such weakness.

It was as if he had eyes on the back of his head. He handled the knights with even more ease than before. Those who thought they’d found a blind spot got a face full of dust kicked up from nowhere, and in that moment of disorientation, flames-laced punches or sword strikes went straight for their vital points. Anyone who hesitated for even a second was finished. Yuder then cleverly used the downed or off-balance knights as obstacles to trip or bind the movements of the others. His movements, though seemingly light and effortless, caused the knights to collide and fall all over themselves—or forced them to hold back, lest they accidentally injure an ally. It was complete chaos.

“What should’ve been an advantage—many against one—actually turned into a disadvantage. It’s like blind spots don’t even exist for him. Watching him toy with our men like he’s dancing... If I weren’t the commander, I’d have thought the whole thing was choreographed beforehand,” Weliven laughed bitterly.

Not even when facing monsters had they experienced such helplessness. And this wasn’t even a monster—it was a human being, not even using his full power. And yet, the elite knights of Peleta were getting wrecked. Unlike the disheveled knights, Yuder remained composed, moving as if he’d done this thousands of times. He even threw ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) in provocations like, “This is all your unit’s got? I expected better from the order your commander made before the Cavalry.”

His words struck deep. Many of these knights had built up enough experience to be immune to mere taunts, but when Yuder said it, something primal was stirred. No curse words, no mocking tone—yet it made them grit their teeth and get up with burning determination. It was almost admirable how he could provoke people without sounding crude.

“From that point on, the mood among the remaining knights completely changed. How should I say it... that...”

“They stopped seeing him as a ‘nobleman’ and started treating him as a real enemy to take down,” Kishiar offered with a gentle smile, finishing the sentence Weliven was hesitating on.

“Ah, yes. Exactly that.”

“And since then, things have been going the way we see now?”

“Yes.”

Through Yuder’s provocation, the knights had been reminded of who they were. What kind of people made up the Peleta Cavalry? They weren’t used to disorganized brawls. They were fighters trained from the beginning in structured tactics and refined technique.

Most of those tactics were designed for monsters, not people—but who cared?

The opponent they faced now was stronger and scarier than any monster. There was no reason not to use those very tactics.

A few knights stepped up and began organizing the others. That’s when the repetition began—of Kishiar’s monster-fighting tactics versus Yuder Aile’s superhuman dismantling of them.

“...So in short, he set this whole thing up deliberately,” Nathan Zuckerman muttered after listening to everything. Kishiar nodded, deeply satisfied.

“Exactly. He pushed them to their limit so they’d instinctively realize their strengths and weaknesses, and naturally fall into roles that fit them. It’s exactly what happened in the Cavalry.”

When faced with an unbeatable enemy, people naturally learn to cooperate. It had taken a long time for the Cavalry to reach that point, since their powers were so varied, but the Peleta knights already had years of coordination experience. All it took was one spar for them to start executing joint tactics seamlessly.

Someone began commanding. Others charged forward based on that command. Supporters covered them. Without realizing it, everyone found their place and did their part—all for a single goal: to land a hit on Yuder Aile. They pushed themselves past their limits.

They were so focused that none of them even noticed their lord had arrived.

“Gyaaah!”

Another scream. A few more knights were flung into the air. Still, if one looked closely, none seemed to be seriously injured. They all knew they could easily step past the white boundary line and be done with it, yet they chose instead to crawl back to their comrades and pick up their swords once more.

Yuder, in the meantime, discarded a broken dagger and spun through the air, landing near the weapon pile to casually pick up a few throwing knives. Nathan Zuckerman, observing quietly, offered his thoughts.

“In my opinion, Baron Aile is letting the tactics nearly succeed—then breaking them at the last moment.”

“Yes. He seems very pleased with how this is going.”

“...Excuse me?” Weliven blinked, as if he’d just heard something unbelievable.

“Pleased? Judging by his expression, I was thinking the exact opposite...”

“Hah. He’s clearly enjoying himself—it’s obvious even from here. What are you talking about, Weliven?”

The old knight turned to look again at the training ground.

Yuder was now responding to the fifteenth tactic formation. He deflected two incoming swords with perfect precision using throwing knives, twisted mid-air, landed on the heads of the charging knights, and launched himself backward to gain distance. The remaining knights cursed and shouted in frustration—it was like watching a demon toying with mortals.

And yet anyone could see Yuder wasn’t smiling. In fact, his expression and energy made it seem like the Peleta knights were his mortal enemies. And this was supposed to be “pleasure”?

“...Is that really what enjoyment looks like?”

“Watch closely. When he leapt just now, the hem of Yuder’s coat tore.”

Kishiar, amused, explained what Weliven didn’t understand.

Only then did Weliven notice that parts of Yuder’s coat fluttering behind him were indeed torn in several places.

“Ah, yes. You’re right.”

“That happened when he broke through Tactic No. 13 just now. In real combat, a torn coat is nearly equivalent to being wounded.”

“......You’re saying that’s the same as being hurt?”

“For Yuder, it is,” Kishiar replied, full of certainty.

“So of course he’s enjoying himself. He’s realized that his opponents are steadily growing stronger.”

At that moment, Weliven felt something odd.

It seemed... that only his lord, Kishiar la Orr, truly and completely understood this incomprehensible man named Yuder Aile.

And that was a very strange feeling.