"Good morning, Lady Stella. You look splendidly beautiful today, as always," greeted a woman clad in pristine white robes and an elegant imperial uniform adorned with intricate gold details. With a graceful bow, she offered Stella a warm compliment.
"Sorry for making you wait, Sherry," Stella responded apologetically, her gaze meeting the amber eyes of Sherry, the crown prince's personal mage and guardian.
Sherry's light brown hair framed her face in gentle waves, a perfect complement to her warm gaze.
"No, it's fine, Lady Stella," Sherry reassured her with a smile, extending her right hand towards Stella. "Shall we go now?"
Stella nodded in agreement, and with a simple nod, they stepped into a magic circle that enveloped them both. The vibrant red hue of the circle indicated the use of celestial magic, a powerful and intricate form of arcane artistry.
Despite her familiarity with the process, Stella couldn't shake the sense of unease that always accompanied teleportation. No matter how many times she experienced it, the sensation of nausea never failed to unsettle her.
While there were numerous methods of traveling to the capital city and reaching the palace to spend time with the prince, being teleported by a celestial mage remained the fastest and most efficient means of transportation available.
Unlike the gate portals scattered throughout each city, which only transported travelers to the outskirts, only imperial celestial mages possessed the authority to teleport directly to the imperial palace. It was a privilege reserved solely for the highest echelons of society.
Normally, only the crown prince and the emperor had the prerogative to utilize such teleportation services with their designated imperial mages.
However, as Stella was not only the fiancée of the crown prince but also the future empress of the empire, she was afforded this rare privilege. It was a testament to her esteemed position within the imperial hierarchy.
Sherry, the celestial mage tasked with escorting Stella, couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort at the sight of her future empress apologizing to her.
If only Stella knew that such deference was unnecessary – in the eyes of the imperial family, any apology directed towards a servant, no matter how well-intentioned, was viewed as a breach of protocol.
In a society where hierarchy reigned supreme, such displays of humility were deemed unacceptable.
With a soft, whispered incantation, the magic circle surrounding Stella and Sherry dissipated, engulfing them in a whirl of arcane energy before whisking them away to their destination.
In the blink of an eye, they reappeared within the hallowed halls of the imperial palace
As Stella's eyes were slightly at daze she almost stumbled down the floor but a hand prevented her from doing so.
"Hello, Stella..." A gentle, melodious voice drifted into Stella's consciousness as her vision gradually returned.
Blinking away the haze, she focused on the figure before her, a man with hair the color of spun gold, reminiscent of her own but with a slight, sun-kissed hue.
His eyes, as radiant as the sun itself, held a glint of amusement as he regarded her.
"Good morning, Hansel," Stella greeted, her cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment at being caught off guard.
Hansel's chuckle only served to deepen her blush, his easygoing demeanor putting her at ease.
….
"Haah... How long will this last?" Taylor's thoughts echoed in his mind as he faced off against the formidable opponent before him.
With each swing of his sword, he found himself unable to breach the gap in the monster's defenses. Despite his training sessions with the Duke and their impromptu sparring sessions, Taylor couldn't shake the feeling of frustration as he struggled to gain an advantage.
In their previous encounters, Taylor had always believed himself to be slightly stronger than the Duke. But now, faced with the reality of their duel, it seemed as though he was attempting to cut through a mountain with a mere blade. Every strike he delivered was easily parried, every slash effortlessly blocked by his opponent.
To make matters worse, the Duke was fighting with only one hand, the other casually tucked behind his back. Taylor's attacks seemed futile in comparison, each blow met with unwavering defense. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't even force the Duke to shift from his original position.
Gritting his teeth in determination, Taylor refused to give up. He knew that if he could just find an opening, if he could see that telltale white line indicating an opportunity, he could land a hit. With renewed resolve, he launched another assault, striking with all his might.
"Clang...!!!" The sound of metal meeting metal reverberated through the air, but Taylor's strike amounted to nothing. In a swift motion, the Duke countered, sending Taylor flying through the air with a powerful slash.
As Taylor landed on the ground with heavy breaths, his feet quivered beneath him.
Despite managing to maintain his footing, the shockwaves his body absorbed from the last clash left Taylor feeling as though he had just collided with a gigantic metallic ball. His hands throbbed with pain, the strain of the duel evident in every fiber of his being.
"Damn brat, you really haven't improved since last night, have you? Even after I made you slash vertically and horizontally a thousand times last night, was that not enough for you to find the path? Should I hold back like always?" The Duke's words cut through the air with a smirk, his tone laced with amusement.
Hearing the Duke's taunts only served to fuel Taylor's frustration.
The insinuation that he hadn't progressed since their last encounter stung deeply, confirming Taylor's suspicions that the Duke had always held back during their sparring sessions.
For someone who prided himself on being a genius with the sword, it was a blow to his pride.
In truth, Taylor knew that their time at the training grounds was limited, with their regular training sessions set to begin later in the night.
However, with no lady to serve at the moment, Taylor saw no reason not to make the most of their time here.
After all, the other servants of the house were more than capable of handling his duties in his absence.
With a determined glint in his eyes, Taylor squared his shoulders and prepared to face his opponent once more.
With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged forward like a bullet, his movements so swift that to the ordinary observer, he would have been nothing more than a blur in the air.
But to the Duke, he seemed as slow as a falling dandelion.
With a smirk, the Duke met Taylor's charge, their swords clashing once more in a symphony of steel.
With each strike, the Duke sent shockwaves reverberating through his sword, aiming to disrupt Taylor's grip and balance.
However, Taylor seemed unfazed by the onslaught, his determination unwavering.
"Hoo... you're learning now," the Duke remarked, his eyes fixed on Taylor as he circled and attacked from all angles. Taylor's movements were erratic yet calculated, zigzagging around the Duke with precision and agility.
As Taylor made a decisive thrust, aiming for a stab, the Duke effortlessly blocked the attack by turning his blade to its flat side.
Not a tremble nor a falter could be detected in the Duke's stance, causing Taylor to recoil and regroup, his resolve unbroken as he resumed his relentless assault on his opponent.
"You already have access to your sword sense, but your sword path is still unstable... Let alone your essence... At this rate, it would take years before you can even catch a glimpse of your world," the Duke commented with a sigh, his gaze fixed on Taylor with a mixture of frustration and concern.
Their swords clashed relentlessly, each strike echoing like thunder in the air. Sparks flew as the blades met, and the metallic tang of blood mingled with the scent of sweat and steel.
Taylor's grip on his sword handle had become so tight that cracks began to form in the iron, a testament to the sheer force with which he swung it.
He fought with wild abandon, disregarding every notion of stance and defense that the Duke had instilled in him since childhood.
Observing Taylor's reckless onslaught, the Duke clicked his tongue in disapproval before delivering a swift kick to Taylor's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"Since when did I teach you to fight like a beast? Just slashing and striking like a madman won't allow you to find the path, brat," he admonished, his voice firm with authority.
Taylor doubled over, gasping for breath as he struggled to regain his composure.
Despite the pain radiating through his body, a flicker of realization dawned within him.
'Over powering him is impossible in power and skill I'm just a mere ant in front of him…'
Coughing and struggling to catch his breath, Taylor stumbled to the ground, clutching his stomach. He had pushed himself to the limit, lost in the frenzy of his own relentless assault.
Disappointment clouded his eyes as he looked up at the Duke, realizing the futility of his efforts.
Slowly, Taylor rose to his feet, a trail of saliva trailing from his mouth. His appearance was that of a wild animal, ready to charge into battle once more.
His heart pounded erratically in his chest, a primal rhythm driving him forward.
Despite knowing he would likely face defeat once again, a sense of exhilaration coursed through him. Why did he feel this overwhelming urge to continue, despite the odds stacked against him? Why did the prospect of battle seem so enticing, so familiar?
"Hehehe~ hahaha!" A manic laughter escaped Taylor's lips as he launched himself at the Duke once more. His eyes, once a serene blue, now burned with a fierce crimson hue.
In that moment, Taylor's resolve solidified.
He no longer cared about winning or losing. All he desired was the rush of combat, the thrill of spilling blood.
For a fleeting moment, Taylor found himself questioning the grim vision that briefly flashed before his eyes—a world littered with corpses, reminiscent of his haunting dreams with the angel.
Hmm?
Why were they all dead?
What did it mean?
'Is the young miss here also?'
But before he could dwell on the unsettling sight, a resounding clang echoed through the air, snapping him back to reality.
CLANG…!!!!!
The Duke's eyes widened as he beheld Taylor's sword, enveloped in a crimson aura—a manifestation of his world for a slight moment.
'Did this brat get to see it?'
Pushing back Taylor with all his strength, the Duke couldn't comprehend how Taylor had suddenly tapped into this power.
However, there was no time to ponder the mystery further. With a sense of urgency, the Duke shifted into position, gripping his sword with both hands for the first time.
Something felt off about the situation—the way Taylor continued to laugh maniacally only added to the Duke's unease.
"HAHAHA! More!"
Despite his duty to nurture Taylor's potential, he couldn't shake the feeling that allowing this flower to bloom unchecked would lead to calamity.
'There's no light in his eyes…. And that smile why are you making that creepy smile you brat?'
With sweat trickling down his back, the Duke resolved to end the fight swiftly.