They didn’t have to wait long.
Soon, Sword God Gal arrived with a yawn, walking with that same lazy yet strangely light gait.
He reached the seat of honor and sat down as casually as if nothing important was happening.
The disciples reacted in the exact opposite manner.
Everyone straightened.
Breathing quieted.
The atmosphere gradually became solemn.
The monthly general sparring session had no age or seniority restrictions.
Opponents of the same rank were determined by drawing lots.
Sometimes a disciple believed their strength had already surpassed their title and would use the occasion to challenge someone of a higher rank.
If they displayed the required level before the Sword God, it didn’t matter whether they won or lost.
The appropriate title could be awarded on the spot.
Matches between disciples of the same rank were much more ordinary.
The winner got to hold their head high.
The loser admitted defeat and went back to training.
Gal swept his gaze across the hall.
Even seated, he carried an unmistakable air of dominance.
“Begin.”
Timothy, sitting quietly nearby, gave a small look to several of the stronger Sword Saints under him.
Those disciples stepped forward to handle the procedure.
Most of them belonged to the advanced group.
To avoid ridiculous mismatches, they usually had predetermined opponents among themselves unless another disciple formally challenged them.
The lots for each rank were quickly drawn.
Before normal sparring began, however, there was the customary question.
“Before we start, does anyone wish to issue a designated challenge?”
The Sword Saint standing in the center of the hall projected his voice across the room.
“I do.
Disciple Clair requests a formal challenge.”
A young but steady voice came from among the Intermediate swordsmen.
Attention immediately shifted toward him.
Clair stood.
At sixteen, his frame had already developed visible muscle and he looked more like a young man than a boy.
Within the Holy Land of Swords, however, he still counted as one of the younger disciples.
Not everyone had been born into the families of Sword Gods and Sword Emperors and allowed to train in the main dojo since early childhood.
Clair himself had only entered the core dojo two years ago.
Reaching Intermediate at that age had already marked him as reasonably talented.
Several older disciples recognized him and immediately understood.
After more than two years of training, wanting to advance to Advanced rank was perfectly natural.
Clair walked into the central dueling area and knelt on one knee before Gal, performing the Sword God Style’s formal salute.
Requesting a challenge before the Sword God demanded proper etiquette.
“Say it.
Who do you want to challenge?”
Gal regarded the disciple seriously.
Even when the duel involved only Intermediate and Advanced swordsmen, he treated the formal request properly.
Every eye in the hall was now on Clair.
Being the center of attention felt glorious, but it also brought pressure that made the heart race.
Clair took a deep breath.
He was nervous.
And excited.
Three minutes ago, he’d been imagining the moment he issued this challenge and shocked everyone.
His group had privately analyzed Noah’s fights countless times.
Noah was good at defense and evasion.
Poor at offense.
He wore opponents down by making them miss until their stamina dropped.
Otherwise, how could he possibly have defeated Nina so easily?
That meant Clair had a real chance.
His stamina had been forged through years of training.
Surely an eight-year-old child couldn’t match him in endurance.
How many years could Noah possibly have trained?
More importantly, Clair himself had always excelled at defense.
That was actually why he’d struggled to advance.
For the last two years, he’d deliberately retrained himself to adapt to the Sword God Style’s aggressive philosophy.
Now, in terms of overall strength, Clair believed he was no weaker than many people who had held Advanced rank for some time.
And even if he lost, his group believed he could at least consume some of Noah’s stamina.
Clair wasn’t interested in being somebody else’s sacrificial pawn.
He wanted to win.
“This disciple wishes to challenge the Sword God’s direct disciple, Advanced swordsman Noah.”
Clair lowered his head respectfully.
Mentioning Noah’s status as Gal’s direct disciple was partly etiquette toward Gal.
It was also deliberate pressure.
He wanted to make it difficult for Noah to refuse.
Of course, he was worrying for nothing.
Noah didn’t care who challenged him.
As long as some shameless higher-ranked swordsman didn’t come down to bully him, Noah actually wanted more live opponents.
Only after reincarnating had he finally understood why so many protagonists in fiction became obsessed with fighting.
Real men loved combat.
Combat was fun.
“Noah, do you accept?”
Gal hadn’t expected his own direct disciple to be the first person challenged today.
He obviously didn’t believe Noah would be afraid, but the formal question still had to be asked.
“Of course.”
Noah answered with a smile.
“Then both sides, come to the center.”
The Sword Saint hosting the session smoothly resumed his duty.
Noah brushed off his training clothes, stood, and walked under the attention of the entire hall to the opposite side of the dueling area.
A disciple near the weapon rack tossed two wooden swords toward them.
Noah and Clair caught them and settled into position.
The referee indicated that they should salute.
“Noah Emiya.”
“Clair Durant.”
Once names were exchanged, the formal duel could begin.
“Challenge match—begin!”
The Sword Saint swept one hand downward and stepped out of the dueling area.
Under Mind’s Eye, Noah immediately noticed that Clair’s posture was conservative rather than the aggressively forward stance common to the Sword God Style.
“Noah.
I’ve wanted to fight you for quite a while.”
“Hm?”
Noah hadn’t expected his opponent to start talking before attacking.
The way Clair said it almost sounded like he’d admired Noah from afar.
“I watched your duel against Lady Nina.
I don’t believe she lost because your swordsmanship was superior.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?” Noah frowned.
“Lady Nina only lost because her stamina was exhausted.
You angered her repeatedly, made her waste energy swinging at empty air, and then took advantage of her weakened state.”
Clair continued laying out his interpretation as though genuinely offended on Nina’s behalf.
“If you hadn’t deliberately enraged her, she wouldn’t have kept missing like that.”
Then he finally reached his conclusion.
“Today I’ll face you openly, sword against sword, and defeat you properly.”
Noah laughed.
“Ha…”
If this guy wanted to belittle his victory and use Noah as a stepping stone, then Noah no longer felt any obligation to preserve his dignity.
[Killing Intent: Nascent]
Charge: 100%.
Release.
The killing intent Noah had accumulated over several days erupted all at once.
Clair’s skin immediately erupted in goosebumps.
The watching disciples reacted as though an enemy had suddenly appeared among them.
Several instinctively reached toward their waists before remembering that spectators were forbidden from carrying swords inside the hall.
‘It’s like facing a wild monster…’
Clair met Noah’s eyes.
For an instant, he felt as though he could see something deeper than a beast’s hunger inside them—a pure desire to kill.
One thing Noah himself didn’t yet understand was that releasing Killing Intent: Nascent at full charge pushed the battle aura naturally leaking from his body outward along with it.
The result amplified the oppressive force dramatically.
It even produced a tangible mental shock against the person directly facing him.
Noah pointed the tip of his wooden sword toward Clair.
“Then let’s have our fair and honorable duel.”
Clair looked at the boy who seemed to have become a completely different person.
The match he’d previously judged as roughly seventy-thirty in his favor suddenly felt much less certain.
Sweat formed on his palm around the hilt.
He had spent his life practicing in dojos.
When had he ever faced an opponent radiating killing intent like this?
Someone whose sword seemed ready to kill the moment it moved?
Noah watched Clair remain rooted in place, his supposedly defensive posture visibly shrinking into hesitation.
His brows drew together.
“If you don’t even dare swing your sword at me…
then why not put it down?”