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77.

Swordmaster—the most honored title among swordsmen.

It had remained unchanged since the age of magic. They could wield their swords like their own bodies, reaching the pinnacle of swordsmanship—sometimes even cutting mountains, so it was said.

Even allowing for exaggeration, they were beings who had reached that level in human form. There were said to be only three on the continent—one in Pabeln, one in a small kingdom, and one who had long ago gone into seclusion.

So the Teyrin agents hiding here quickly recognized Kite's presence. What swordsman could kill so easily?

"Kite!"

At the shout, Vallak's warriors hesitated. The one who had been feared even as a boy now stood before them, grown.

"Don't retreat!"

Vallak shouted.

"A Swordmaster is still human! Look—he's killing our kin!"

The warriors stopped. But Kite wasn't fooled—he lifted the head of the man he'd just cut down and removed the cloth covering its face.

"Kin?"

At the cold voice, all eyes focused.

The face was hardly that of a barbarian warrior.

"Vallak—you've joined hands with Teyrin."

Kahn said.

"Yes! I have Teyrin's support! But you're the same—you've joined hands with another empire, selling out your own kin!"

"No—I only want us all to stop dying from cold and hunger."

"Can you truly trust Pabeln to follow your will?"

"Then let me ask you—why did you join Teyrin?"

"Because they give us much—food, weapons, they've promised to recognize our autonomy in the North!"

"For nothing in return?"

At Kahn's question, Vallak hesitated—but only for a moment, then evaded.

"I can't tell a traitor like you!"

"So that's it."

Kite shrugged. Kahn closed his eyes, then opened them and declared.

"Vallak—let us fight a sacred duel! Let the heavens decide whose cause is just!"

"Don't speak of sacred duels! I've no interest!"

"Since each must judge who is right, let's follow the strong! Since ancient times, the strong have led the tribes! Instead of pointless sacrifice, let's settle this ourselves!"

Vallak looked reluctant.

"What are you doing! Kill them!"

He kicked a nearby subordinate.

"But he's a Swordmaster!"

"He's still human—he can be beaten!"

The warriors hesitated, then raised their weapons again. Kite smiled lightly and pointed to a nearby boulder—then swung his sword, cleaving it in two.

"I'd rather you listen to Kahn."

Though spoken lightly, no one could ignore him.

Wrong—all wrong! Most of the Teyrin agents had died; the remaining warriors were too terrified to fight properly. Vallak's eyes darted.

How to stop that monster? He looked at Kahn—also formidable. Vallak had never beaten him since childhood. He'd avoided the sacred duel for that reason.

He needed someone easier, but someone Kahn cared about. His gaze fell on Iranna—the shaman, whom Kahn cherished.

The answer was clear. The woman with the gun was there too, but she seemed less dangerous than Kahn or Kite. He signaled to the nearest Teyrin agent—the strongest of his remaining allies.

If he can't handle a Swordmaster, at least he can subdue one woman.

The man moved—suddenly attacking the gun-woman.

BANG!

She shot, but he dodged! He grabbed Iranna's wrist and raised his sword—then—

THWACK!

The woman spun her gun and struck his head with the butt. So fast he couldn't react; then Iranna kicked him in the groin.

"AAAGH!"

Even screaming, he didn't give up—drawing Kite and Kahn's attention.

Now!

Vallak slipped back and ran, ignoring his men. Just a bit further to the horses—then he could escape.

A Swordmaster is a monster—fight one? No thanks!

He'd lose his men, but Teyrin would send more; they'd promised unlimited support. These were only some of his forces.

He'd forcibly united other tribes before the meeting, holding their families hostage—they'd obey.

Just a little more!

He ran, but a voice came from behind.

"Can't have you running away."

Something struck his neck—he crumpled. He'd dodged enough to avoid unconsciousness, but couldn't move.

"Ugh."

Gasping, he looked up—a familiar face.

"M-monster!"

Kite.

"Not really."

He dragged Vallak to Kahn.

"Kite."

"He was running—so I brought him back for the duel."

Kite tossed him down. The warriors' gazes were fierce—some from his own tribe.

"Coward."

Murmurs spread.

"Fight!"

"Fight!"

"Fight the sacred duel!"

They raised weapons and stamped the ground—both Kahn's and Vallak's men.

"Prove it!"

"The strong are the law!"

Vallak screamed.

"Weaklings—shut up!"

No one listened.

Kahn tossed him a blade—his favored curved sword.

"Fight."

Kahn's calm words enraged Vallak. He glared, then picked up the weapon.

I won't lose!

He'd worked as hard as Kahn—though he'd always lost, things might be different now.

The Teyrin agents were subdued.

"Useless fools!"

Teyrin had promised him the North. A self-proclaimed seer had said he'd become king—but now he faced a sacred duel.

If the prophecy held, he'd win.

"He won't interfere?"

He pointed at Kite—Kahn nodded.

"On my name, I swear—no one will interfere."

Kite swore too. With no other choice, Vallak faced Kahn.

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