Sion’s Decision 5 ~Settlement/Heavy Baggage~
Abel tightened his grip on his sword. A moment later, he burst into action, launching a flurry of his signature strikes.
Sion, in contrast, met his attacks head-on. He didn’t dodge or parry but absorbed each incoming blow, sending them back with numbing force. With each successive strike, Sion’s grimace grew darker, and his lips curled into a pained snarl. Yet, he stood his ground.
Against Abel’s relentless assault, Sion found no openings or flaws in his stance. Instead, he countered with an equally relentless barrage.
“Augh…” Abel growled as a blur of swords struck him, making contact with his arms and legs. He fought through the pain and continued pressing forward.
“I’m not giving up!” he declared, realizing that retreating would only prove his opponent’s superior strength. If he couldn’t win through sheer force, he wouldn’t win at all. With determination, he pushed on.
Sion matched Abel’s ferocity, closing the distance between them further. Neither of them considered giving in. The moment Sion had challenged Abel to this duel, he had burned all his bridges behind him. The only path left was the abyss of defeat. Sion’s mind was set on moving forward, regardless of the potential injuries.
Their duel transcended mere technique and form; it became a clash of sheer willpower and determination. Seeing these two princes clash so passionately, Dion couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Wow, that’s what I call a fight! These two are so young, and I never expected them to ditch the fencing manual and turn this into a sword-wrestling match. But I love it! I have to give credit to Prince Sion. Despite all his tricks, he can hold his own in a brawl. He’s a genius, no doubt, but still has a lot to learn in my opinion,” Dion commented, which made Mia frown.
Sion… seems different today.
While Abel remained consistent in his straightforward approach, Sion was fighting in an unfamiliar way. He was swinging his sword with reckless and passionate abandon, contrary to his usual unflappable demeanor. Mia tried to make sense of the situation but found herself increasingly confused.
This confusion was different from her initial reaction when the duel began. At first, she had devised an elaborate scenario where Sion would confess his love to her after defeating Abel, allowing her to reject him in a manner that would comfort Echard. However, as the duel progressed, she noticed Sion’s unusual behavior.
How can I possibly reject the advances of the Prince of Sunkland in his own castle? Sion, you’re making it really difficult for me!
Mia’s initial plan had led to panic, with her stomach churning at the thought of publicly rejecting Sion. As the duel continued, she realized that Sion wasn’t acting like his usual self.
“Princess Mia, please watch my lord closely. Pay attention to his sword and the message he’s conveying through it,” Keithwood, Sion’s loyal vassal, urged.
Mia’s realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Sion was fighting for her. Every swing of his sword was a message to her. She now knew the truth, and that knowledge made it difficult for her to wish for Abel’s victory. She still wanted Abel to win, but she couldn’t eagerly wish for Sion’s defeat either.
What’s happening to me? Why does my chest feel so tight?
Her heart raced, and she felt more confused than ever. She was in a historic moment, a real heroine with two princes fighting for her affection, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
What am I supposed to do in this situation? I wish Anne were here, my romantic counselor!
As Mia struggled with her emotions, the duel continued.
The clash between the two princes intensified, with their swords colliding and sparks flying. Each strike sapped their strength, and the accumulating injuries and fatigue took their toll. Despite the practice swords, the hits left their mark. The pace of their strikes accelerated, and it seemed as if the blades might shatter. Eventually, they separated.
“Scorching sun… Abel, you’ve come a long way from how you used to be,” Sion said, catching his breath. “I genuinely mean it. I can hardly believe you’re the same person.”
Abel adjusted his grip on his sword and grinned. “Ha ha, I find it hard to believe myself. I never thought I’d hold my own against you like this. I couldn’t have done it without her.”
Sion nodded in agreement. “Yeah.” Then, he closed his eyes. “I envy you, Abel.”
The words spilled out of him, and Sion realized he had been carrying that envy for a long time.
That’s it. I’ve been envious of Abel all this time. It’s almost laughable that I didn’t realize it.
Sion watched as Abel raised his sword, unwavering in its goal. It had remained true and pure to its purpose, just like its wielder.
Sion envied that purity, the same purity he wished he had possessed.
If only I had been as single-minded, maybe she would…
He cut off his thoughts with a swing of his sword.
“Let’s go, Abel!”
As Sion stepped forward, his thoughts drifted to his family, his vassals, and the people relying on the royal family for peace and prosperity.
Of course, they would all be there.
In the next moment, Sion’s sword slipped from his hand.
In the decisive moment, Abel’s eyes were fixed on Sion, but it felt like they were looking through him at something else.
One girl.
Abel fought only for her, while Sion…
That was the difference that determined the outcome.
The sword, released from its master, spun through the air before landing on the ground with a resounding clang. It marked the end of the match, leaving the audience in the hall in astonishment.
“Sion… lost?” Echard muttered in disbelief.
Sion glanced briefly at his brother before dropping to his knees. He stared at the floor until Abel’s hand appeared before him.
“Sion, you—”
Sion cut him off, holding his gaze.
“If you’re about to say something like, ‘You’d have won if you fought properly, so this doesn’t count,’ I’ll spit on you.”
Before Abel could respond, Sion continued.
“Both of us staked something important, and I lost. You took victory from me, Abel, and I won’t let you take my loss as well.”
They locked eyes for a moment, and then Sion’s expression softened.
“…Let’s stick with that, alright? Work with me here,” he whispered.
Echard hurried to his side, still concerned.
“Sion…”
“As you can see, I’ve been defeated,” Sion shrugged. “I’m not as perfect as you think, Echard. I can fail, and I can lose, even when something important is on the line.”
“But… Sion…”
Sion shook his head, urging his brother to remain calm.
“Besides, you were watching, weren’t you? You saw the moment when Abel’s sword overcame mine. He was undeniably weaker than me. When we first went to Saint-Noel, I couldn’t have imagined losing to him, but he improved. Through hard work and dedication, he surpassed me. That’s my parting gift to you, Echard. You can do the same with enough effort. Forget about me, Echard. There are greater heights for you to reach. Remember that and seize your own future.”
“Sion…” Echard lowered his gaze.
Sion smiled and adopted a lighter tone, perhaps to lift his brother’s spirits or ease the tension.
“With that said, I don’t plan on losing consistently. Not to you, and not to you, Abel.”
Abel scratched his head and grinned.
“Sure, we’ll have another go at it. And next time, I’ll still win.”
The two princes shook hands, and the ballroom erupted in applause. The audience praised the two remarkable combatants, and amid the thunderous cheers, Sion made his way toward Mia.
