#36. Victory to My Knight
It was only a fleeting moment—but it was enough to convey intent. The beginning of a purge to drive out annoying pests. Cryer, with overwhelming madness—yes, an insane arrogance—pressed down on everyone as he advanced toward Olivia. And then, the next moment, all traces of his murderous aura vanished.
“H-Hnnk…”
“Urgh!”
“Haah… Haah… Haah…”
As the killing intent that had swept through the training grounds disappeared, those who had been frozen like statues began to collapse one by one—either dropping to their knees or outright falling over. Everyone, without exception, gasped desperately for air they’d been holding back. Slowly, deliberately—ensuring the image was etched into every mind—Cryer knelt before Olivia on one knee.
The beast, the monstrous creature who had singlehandedly turned the arena into chaos, was now bowing his head before one person.
“Your Highness, the Princess.”
The low murmur, echoing like a voice from a deep cavern, drilled into everyone’s ears. Then Olivia’s lips parted.
“Cryer.”
As if it were scripted, the very air changed when she spoke. What had swirled violently around Cryer now calmed, gently settling at her feet like a loyal beast. Everyone instinctively turned their eyes to Olivia—and then froze again, this time for a different reason.
Her radiant red hair shone brighter than any rose in full bloom, and her eyes, bluer than today’s clear sky, captured all attention. Not through savagery like Cryer’s, but through sheer grace and brilliance. As Olivia’s gaze met Cryer’s, a soft smile spread across her lips. With a majestic aura worthy of the empire’s sole princess, and a dazzling smile like a blade, she stared him down. Cryer’s thoughts mirrored hers, simple and blunt:
She’s good.
Their feelings for one another were the same. As their eyes locked, both smiled—unaware their expressions even mirrored one another.
Olivia slowly reached into her chest and pulled out a handkerchief.
“To my knight—victory.”
And with that, she let the white handkerchief fall. Like a petal drifting in the breeze, it descended. Cryer reached out to catch it, a faint smile forming on his lips.
The handkerchief bore no name, no insignia, not even an initial. And yet, her warmth lingered faintly upon it, spreading across his palm.
What more could he need?
Ignoring the faint sting of the brand on his body, Cryer slipped the handkerchief into his breast pocket. And just as the impact of Olivia calling him “my knight” still rippled through the crowd—
Thud! Dum-dum-dum!
The sound of drums rang out, and the judge declared solemnly,
“Enough!”
The second match ended in a draw. Immediately, the third match participants were summoned.
Through sheer luck of the draw, a brown-haired knight had become Cryer’s opponent—and was now frozen in place.
Those nearby who recognized his name scattered like cockroaches. Before he knew it, he had been dragged to the center of the arena by imperial knights.
So the brown-haired knight stood face to face with Cryer.
But honestly, the match was already decided before it even began.
Who among those who had experienced Cryer’s suffocating aura could even hold a sword properly in front of him?
Naturally, the brown-haired knight tried to surrender—but Cryer didn’t even give him the chance.
Clang!
“H-heugh!”
A horrible, metallic clash rang out, followed by the nerve-scraping sound of blades grinding.
Screeeech!
The two swords collided, perfectly matched—or at least it sounded that way. But in truth, the brown-haired knight looked like he might faint at any moment.
If not for Cryer’s whispered warning as he bared his teeth in a grin, he probably would have already dropped his weapon.
“If you let go before I say so…”
He didn’t need to finish. The message was clear enough.
Rules? What rules? The beast in front of him wouldn’t hesitate to tear out his throat.
So, to avoid getting his throat ripped out, the knight had no choice but to endure until the brink of death.
Clang! Clack!
Cryer toyed with him—turning the match into a convincing spectacle, even as he played with his prey.
But Olivia merely watched with a disinterested gaze. If Cryer wanted to, he could take down everyone present without a scratch on himself or his opponents. That’s how overwhelming he was.
This whole duel event was just a formality. From the moment Cryer had made his shocking entrance and Olivia called him “my knight,” everything else was already decided.
“Why is he playing around like that?”
Her sulky comment was met with silent head shakes from the two people flanking her like wings—both heads of knight orders.
“As expected…”
One of them spoke, and the others exchanged subtle looks.
“You too?”
“Hm.”
“Seems like we all are.”
They all turned to Olivia at once, as if in sync. But she simply smiled, her eyes curving gently.
Then the most outspoken among them asked directly,
“Did Your Highness… bring him down for all of us?”
Without turning, Olivia gave a small nod.
And the knight commanders exchanged knowing glances. They were individuals who didn’t need to attend such a tournament.
If they did, it would only be for appearances—for the empire’s sake.
The Empire’s Sword.
The Empire’s Shield.
They were the true pillars of the Bolsheik Empire’s might.
And yet…
By the look in their eyes, it was clear they had all lost to this unknown knight from Norden.
“An unnamed knight, huh…”
“The princess’s, ahem, eye for talent is as keen as ever.”
The blunt commander cleared his throat, and a more tactful one smoothed it over.
“We’ve always known Your Highness to possess exceptional foresight, but this… truly surprised us.”
“Indeed. To think someone of that level was hidden away…”
One by one, the commanders shook their heads in disbelief, their brows furrowing.
At last, the most senior among them spoke.
“He’s from the Kingdom of Norden, isn’t he? Forgive us, Your Highness. We failed in our duties.”
The others bowed deeply in unison.
As the Empire’s Shield, Sword, and Pillars, their role wasn’t just to train the imperial knights.
They were also responsible for identifying talent across the continent—especially those destined to rise within their own nations.
To have overlooked Cryer meant they had failed.
A faint, bitter smile touched Olivia’s lips—then vanished.
But it wasn’t incompetence that made them miss him.
Before the continental war, Cryer had simply hidden himself—kept his head low.
And Norden… wasn’t even a country known for its knights or swordsmanship. If anything, its presence was faint. A neighboring country, yes—but otherwise unremarkable.
So when war broke out, their response…
Olivia cut her thoughts short.
After surviving the first catastrophe and entering her second life, she had done everything she could to prepare for war.
But it was all for nothing.
In the face of Cryer, a living monster, all preparations were useless.
She had learned that painfully well—carved into her bones.
And during all four continental wars, the knight commanders now bowing their heads behind her had fought desperately to hold back the tidal wave Cryer unleashed.
‘Your Highness! You must go!’
‘Ggh… I’ll buy you some time…’
Their bloodied, pained expressions flashed through her mind like ghosts.
“Don’t concern yourselves. My knight is simply… special.”
Olivia closed her eyes, then opened them slowly.
Cryer’s strength had now been engraved into the minds of even the knight commanders.
It was time to end this.
As if he sensed her intent, Cryer swung his sword in a wide arc.
Clatter!
Thunk.
The satisfying ring of a flying sword was followed by the sickening sound of it embedding into the ground.
The brown-haired knight stood frozen, his hands still clenching the hilt as if he hadn’t realized it was gone.
“Enough.”
The judge announced. There was no need to declare a winner.
Even a passing monkey could tell who won.
Cryer calmly stepped past the judge and walked up to the platform.
Technically, he should have returned to the waiting area like the others—but no one stopped him.
With only one victory under his belt, Cryer moved like the final champion.
He stood before Olivia, pulling her handkerchief from his chest.
Time seemed to slow as everyone’s eyes followed his every move.
Cryer met Olivia’s gaze and slowly, reverently, pressed his lips to the cloth.
With sincerity. With devotion.
A blue swallow flew low across the crimson earth.
As it glided silently by, the scorched land behind it rippled faintly.
Only then did Cryer tear his gaze away from Olivia.
If he looked any longer…
He licked his dry lips and finally stepped away from her.
Not even the sound of insects could be heard.
In the silence, Olivia gestured to the judge.
“Is there anyone who wishes to challenge?”
She didn’t name the opponent—but Cryer was the only one standing in the arena.
Who would dare?
He hadn’t even drawn his sword.
And yet, none could muster the courage—even recklessness.
They hadn’t forgotten the bloodthirsty aura that had overwhelmed them.
The nobles in the outer circle remained frozen, eyes flicking between Cryer and Olivia.
After a suitable silence, the judge stepped back, and Olivia rose.
With only her presence, she took control of the entire training ground.
Those who had been unable to tear their gaze from Cryer now stared at her instead.
A dazzling smile bloomed on her lips.
Her crimson mouth spoke the final words:
“This tournament is concluded.”
Even the knights who had longed for this day, preparing desperately in hopes of catching the princess’s eye—
Even the foreign guests supporting them—
None could voice a complaint.
The tournament had ended.
Just like that.
