Chapter 5

Huff, huff—

Tristan’s personal guard, Werner, arrived breathing heavily. He had clearly sprinted all the way from the knights’ training grounds.

“Werner. What’s going on?”

“Well… huff, hah… At the training grounds, Sir Isaac…”

Did his wrist fall off again?

If he so much as shouted, “A zombie has appeared in the knights’ order! Sir Isaac’s turned into a zombie!” — it would all be over.

I quickly hid my trembling fingers behind my back. Thankfully, Tristan’s full attention was locked on Werner.

“Well, you see… Sir Isaac and Sir Harold are going to spar!”

“…What?”

Tristan’s face went rigid.

“It’s going to be a spectacle! There’ve been countless bets in the order over who’s the strongest knight, but these two have never actually fought each other, so things always ended inconclusively. This time, I placed my bet on Sir Harold!”

Werner chattered on, completely unconcerned by the serious mood.

“Oh! Lady Walker, I didn’t see you there. Apologies! I bet on Isaac last time, so please don’t misunderstand!”

He even shot me a cheeky grin.

Well, at least he didn’t find out Isaac’s a zombie…

But a sparring match? When he should be lying low? What on earth was Isaac thinking?

He could easily expose himself in front of everyone.

No—unless His Highness sees it with his own eyes, maybe it can be salvaged…

“You’re seriously…”

Tristan pinched his forehead, clearly exasperated by Werner’s antics. Thankfully, he didn’t seem too interested in—

“Let’s go.”

…Or maybe not.

“I knew Your Highness would say that!”

Werner beamed as Tristan suddenly rose to his feet.

“I even told them to save you the best seat! Let’s get going!”

“As a knight myself, I might learn something.”

He was still a swordsman at heart—and evidently interested in seeing top talents like Isaac and Harold in action.

I resisted the urge to slap my forehead.

“Oh! Lady Walker, would you care to join us, if you’re not too busy?”

Werner casually extended the invitation to me as well.

As the Crown Prince’s bodyguard, he was often warm and familiar with even the palace scribes. Normally, I would’ve politely declined…

“…Would that be all right?”

But this time was different. I smiled sweetly, feigning shyness, as I laid the groundwork to hopefully stop the spar.

“Actually, Isaac hasn’t been in the best condition lately…”

“I heard he broke three wooden swords just a few days ago during training?”

“…That’s why I’m worried. I’m afraid he might be pushing himself too hard.”

“Normally, he breaks five. There’s even a running joke in the order that the highest expense in the entire knights’ budget is Sir Isaac. Hahaha!”

Werner burst into booming laughter.

I resisted the strong urge to punch his obnoxiously exposed Adam’s apple.

Isaac, what have you been doing?

I hadn’t realized—budget allocations for the knights weren’t under my jurisdiction—but apparently, Isaac was the department’s biggest money drain.

I offered a silent apology to whoever handled the knights’ finance division, then followed Tristan and Werner out of the office.

* * *

‘What the hell do I do now…’

Isaac gripped the wooden sword, trying to look calm while concealing his growing concern. Whoosh, whoosh—he gave it a few light swings. That much was still fine.

‘But if I use even a little real strength…’

Crack!

A nasty sound echoed from his wrist. It felt like it could fall right off at any moment. He immediately cradled it, careful not to make things worse.

‘Damn it. I shouldn’t have taken the bait.’

He let out a long sigh. Honestly, he would’ve preferred to avoid this entire situation—really.

If only Harold hadn’t hit a nerve, he probably could’ve laughed off any provocation.

—Hey Isaac, your little sister… what was her name again? Emily? I heard she’s just a dud with no abilities. She’s old enough now—wouldn’t it be smarter to marry her off to a decent house and cut your losses?

The memory of that filthy smirk made his jaw clench again.

—I’m thinking of formally proposing soon. Hope you’ll support it. Hm? I mean, I know House Walker only ever brings in son-in-laws, but come on. You’re not gonna apply the same rules to a reject, right?

He knew it was a calculated jab—but he still couldn’t hold back.

Emily wasn’t someone who deserved to be insulted by a scumbag like Harold.

To be fair, it wasn’t that Emily lacked anything in particular.

Sure, she wasn’t extraordinary—but she was a sweet, clever, and gentle little sister.

But in House Walker, that made her painfully average.

Her pink hair, soft like spun sugar, and kind eyes tinted with a mellow green weren’t bad to look at—but they dulled next to her siblings.

She was smart, but not like the eldest brother who could memorize anything at a glance.

She was athletic, but nowhere near Isaac, who had once shattered boulders with his bare hands.

She was handy, but her alchemy skills didn’t come close to her twin sister’s—who could mix potions with exact precision.

In a house where every child was born with a divine blessing—a singular, extraordinary talent—Emily was just… too normal.

‘But that’s only what clueless outsiders say.’

Isaac often thought back to when their parents died. If it hadn’t been for Emily’s quiet, steady smile, their entire family might’ve fallen apart.

While everyone else wandered, lost in grief, she was the one who stood firm, their only anchor.

No one had the right to speak of her that way.

Isaac tightened his grip on the wooden sword. The divine blessing granted to him had been his unmatched strength and resilience. As a zombie now, that strength was mostly useless.

But that didn’t mean his experience had vanished.

He took a slow breath, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

The duel was about to begin.

* * *

The training grounds—normally reserved for knights—were packed with people. Word had spread about today’s sparring match, and it seemed like everyone had gathered to see it.

But with the Crown Prince present, it was as if an invisible barrier surrounded him—no one dared get too close.

Thanks to that, despite the crowd, we had a surprisingly comfortable view.

“See? This is why it’s always nice to tag along with His Highness,” Werner said with a grin. Clearly, this had been his plan all along when he brought Tristan here.

“Oh, looks like it’s starting!”

We took our seats on the folding chairs Werner had brought. At the same time, Isaac and Harold stepped into the sparring arena.

His wrist…

I found myself immediately checking on Isaac’s wrist. Thankfully, it was still holding on for now.

“Both sides, bow.”

Sparring between knights was a matter of honor, and proper etiquette was required. The two offered each other respectful bows.

“Ready!”

They moved apart, gripping their wooden swords and taking their stances. I had to work hard to hide my growing anxiety.

“Is he not well?”

I flinched at the voice that whispered in my left ear. Turning my head, I saw Tristan leaning slightly toward me, his upper body tilted in my direction.

It was the first time I’d seen him this close. Instinctively, I looked away.

“Pardon?”

“I mean Sir Isaac.”

“Oh, my brother. Yes, um, he said he hasn’t been feeling well lately. Maybe something he ate didn’t sit right…”

“Would explain his color. He looks completely pale.”

Werner chimed in, casually joining the conversation. Under the bright lights of the training grounds, Isaac did look deathly pale.

Of course he does. He’s a zombie.

There wasn’t a single drop of blood flowing through his veins. Naturally, he had no color in his skin.

I really should tell him to put something on his face next time…

Today was a rushed appearance because his leave was denied, which explained the state he was in. But even the crowd had started to murmur over his sickly complexion.

“Is he really okay?”

“Hold on, this changes things. I’m switching my bet to Harold!”

“C’mon Isaac, win this for me! You know how much money I’ve got riding on you?!”

Murmurs of rising tension and clashing opinions filled the arena. I looked across the field at Harold. He could clearly see his opponent was sick, yet had no intention of backing out.

Well, of course. No way today’s duel was a coincidence.

All brilliance casts deep shadows. Isaac had become the youngest knight ever thanks to his natural talent, and then again made history as the youngest to join the Imperial Knights.

They said it was only a matter of time before he became the youngest knight commander. Naturally, that attracted plenty of envy.

“Begin!”

The duel had barely begun when Harold charged in.

“Haah!”

He swung his wooden sword hard, aiming for Isaac’s neck. Wooden or not, that kind of blow could seriously injure someone.

Clack! Swish.

Isaac smoothly deflected the strike. Instead of meeting it head-on, he used Harold’s force to redirect the blow, causing Harold to lose his balance and stumble forward.

Whoosh!

Isaac followed up with a strike aimed at the back of Harold’s neck.

Clack!

Harold managed to block it just in time and rolled away to create distance.

He looked surprised and rotated his wrist, flexing his grip on the wooden sword.

Probably because Isaac’s strike had felt too light.

So he really can’t use his full strength.

I wasn’t exactly an expert in swordsmanship, but I’d grown up watching Isaac’s monstrous strength. If he had been serious, Harold’s sword would’ve already snapped in half.

Even if Harold didn’t know the full story, he clearly sensed that Isaac wasn’t in top form. A wicked grin curled at his lips as he launched another head-on attack.

Clack, clack! Swish—boom!

Their wooden swords clashed in the air over and over. Each time Isaac deflected a strike, Harold slipped in to exploit an opening.

He was going in hard, provoking Isaac. A deliberate strategy—knowing Isaac couldn’t afford a full-force contest.

And it was working.

Isaac’s wrist was starting to twist.

Craack…

To most onlookers, it might have just seemed like impressive flexibility.

But I could see it clearly—

His wrist was just one strike away from snapping.