[E]yes locked on her opponent, Ionia inhaled deeply, feeling the adrenaline course through her veins as the Marquis retreated, readjusting his stance.
Their previous exchange seemed to have been a mere warm-up, and the true battle was now about to commence.
Ionia observed her father adopting an extended guard-stance, extending his wooden sword forward.
His intent was clear; he probably sought to leverage his longer reach for an offensive strategy, putting pressure on Ionia while keeping her in a defensive position. The plan was to maybe strike from a distance, thereby making it challenging for Ionia to close in and launch her own attacks.
Evaluating her choices, she positioned her feet shoulder-width apart, maintaining a poised yet alert posture. Wooden sword held close to her body, its blade almost parallel to her torso's centerline, Ionia assumed the classical inside-stance.
She stood completely still, analyzing and searching for weaknesses in her father's stance.
"How long do you intend to remain on the defensive?" The Marquis's sudden taunt disrupted Ionia's concentration, revealing his impatience.
"As long as I need—" Ionia began to reply, but the Marquis seized the opportunity, lunging forward with a swift diagonal slash. Fortunately, Ionia's readiness served her well.
With exceptional agility, coupled with the close combat advantage of her inside stance, her wooden sword met his, deflecting his attack with a resounding clash.
Clack! Clacck!
Almost instantaneously, the marquis shifted his weight, his wooden sword following up with another slash.
[ManaSkin - Activated]
A gleaming blue layer of mana enveloped her instantly, creating a protective barrier akin to a second skin around her body.
As her father's blade approached her side, Ionia's connection to the wind element enhanced her speed through her mana-skin. She leaped backward, narrowly avoiding the Marquis's vicious attack.
Turning her evasion into an opportunity, she swiftly kicked off the ground, propelling herself forward. Her wooden sword blurred through the air, targeting the Marquis's side.
He, an experienced master, countered with a diagonal slash of his own, their blades clashing against the other with a resonating clash.
A visible vein throbbed in the Marquis's jaw, anger palpable as he questioned, "Who in the world is your swordmaster?"
Ionia skillfully swung her wooden sword, retreating back to her earlier stance.
"Who knows?" Ionia's flat response remained as elusive as ever, almost a subtle mockery to the Marquis's earnest inquiry.
The truth was, she fully comprehended the source of his vexation.
Her father had extended his prohibition beyond basic training, strictly forbidding anyone from imparting swordsmanship to her, and it hadn't been limited to the Lysander sword alone.
The reasons behind this enigmatic prohibition remained veiled in mystery. However, one aspect was undeniably clear: Ionia had forged her skills through grueling trials in her previous life.
Left to fend for herself by Draven and his party near the rift that separated the Beast's Glade from Aethalia, she had honed her skills for the sake of survival.
"Your insolence knows no bounds," the Marquis muttered under his breath, his struggle to conceal his mounting frustration beneath a veneer of stoicism apparent.
With renewed determination, he launched into another relentless barrage of slashes, resolved to prevent Ionia from seizing any opportunity for a counterattack.
Fortunately, Ionia, with her wind-imbued mana-skin, skillfully evaded his strikes, with only a couple of his attacks tearing through her shirt and grazing her arms.
Trying to maintain a slight distance to assess the damage, Ionia had no chance to catch her breath as the Marquis exploited the opportunity, lunging forward as if aiming to impale her.
Her movements were so fluid that she seemed to phase in and out of existence, dodging his thrust with ease. With an unexpectedly graceful spun, she clashed her sword into his, catching him off guard.
Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, filling the air with electric tension. The Marquis's strikes rained down like a tempest, but Ionia, as agile as a wraith, countered with a swift slash aimed at his side.
Ionia's swordsmanship left the Marquis astounded; her calculated parries deflected his strikes with an almost unnatural precision.
Even their audience watched in awe as the battle played out before them, a mesmerizing spectacle of sheer combat skills.
And then came Ionia's ingenious maneuver. She feigned a retreat, drawing the Marquis in. He took the bait, lunging forward with a crushing overhead strike, convinced that victory was within his grasp.
With lightning-quick agility, Ionia executed a flawless pivot and countered with an upward slice.
Clankkkk!
Their swords collided with another resonating impact, sending shockwaves through the training ground. The Marquis's wooden sword was disarmed, and it spun away from his grasp.
[Stealth Skill - Activated]
As Ionia lowered her sword slightly and her Mana-Skin begin to wane, the Marquis abruptly vanished from view, his presence completely erased.
Suddenly, an unexpected impact surged through her body, propelling her across the training ground.
"This is your lost," the Marquis coolly stated after reappearing where Ionia had previously stood.
A metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she felt the searing pain of millions of needles pierced through her skin, a stark reminder of her existence and regression.
Draven, being the first to grasp the situation, moved closer, seemingly ready to offer help. Nevertheless, Ionia raised her hand warningly, signaling for him to halt.
The onlookers dared not intervene either, well aware of Ionia's status as the family's outcast.
With an eerie chuckle, she commented, "Yes, Marquis, you've just validated my point."
Struggling slightly, she managed to rise once more. With remarkable precision, she effortlessly tossed her wooden sword like a javelin, skillfully landing it back in the rack.
The observers on the training ground watched her every move with astonishment. Her newfound skills were like a foreign language to them. When had she become so skilled?
Wiping away a trickle of blood from her lips with the back of her hand, she continued, "I thought you said you wouldn't use stealth. In the end, the Lysander's sword is nothing more than a pile of scrap."
All of a sudden, the knights seemed to grasp the true significance of her words, and their earlier excitement waned.
It was clear to them now. In their fascination with Ionia's extraordinary combat skills, they had completely overlooked the primary purpose of the duel. Even the Marquis himself had unknowingly broken his promise.
The Marquis, standing there with his eyes wide in disbelief, wondered how he had let his emotions take over during a duel with a 14-year-old. His right hand covered his mouth as he contemplated his actions.
However, a silent understanding prevailed among those present. None dared to criticize or question their master. They knew that if the Marquis had fought at his full capacity, the outcome might have been vastly different.
Ionia, in the midst of all that, appeared fatigued, her labored breathing and depleted mana testifying to her immense effort. She had pushed herself to the limits, not to mention the blow she had sustained.
"In any case," Ionia spoke wearily, her voice devoid of triumph, "I've made my point, and now I'll take my leave."
As she turned and walked back in the direction of the main castle, her fatigue was palpable with each step she took. The Marquis and Draven, despite their astonishment, held back from making any jests.
It was undeniable that she had demonstrated her capabilities to take on a skilled knight single-handedly.
On the other hand, Ellora Gaillot who was still overwhelmed by shock, stammered as she observed Ionia's retreating figure. "W-was she toying with me in our last duel?"
A shiver ran down her spine as she contemplated the numerous implications of that possibility – the likelihood that her previous win was but a façade, a mockery of some sort.
Overhearing her muttered words, Draven and the Marquis exchanged meaningful glances, their brows furrowing at the unsettling notion.