Crest of the Strongest Knight

Chapter 89 - A Familiar Face

Blood dripped incessantly from Medrauta's sword, forming a small puddle below its point.

The three enemy knights stood before her, panting violently. Though their pact with the witch had granted them nigh-immortal bodies, it did nothing to enhance their stamina.

"I estimate around five more minutes until your nobles reach our position," Medrauta remarked rather casually, flicking her blade and splattering blood in a crimson arc on the dirt before her. "I'm fairly certain I know how your so-called 'immortality' works, so if I were you, I'd start retreating right about now."

Unlike the three knights before her, the silver-haired knight wasn't exhausted in the least. In fact, she seemed almost bored with her opponents.

It was surreal. Every injury that they suffered quickly regenerated. Even if Medrauta dismembered them or pierced their vital organs, they would quickly grow back within seconds. The battle had been an incredibly gruesome sight, but Viviane couldn't avert her eyes.

After all, Medrauta's movements were so graceful and riveting as she weaved in and out of the fight without pause, taking down the enemy knights as soon as they regenerated and preventing them from ever taking advantage of their faux-immortality.

It's cliche, but it's almost like she's dancing... Viviane thought as she continued to be mesmerized by Medrauta swatting her opponents away with ease.

"H-How...?" One of the knights finally asked as the tip of her sword fell, digging into the dirt. Though her legs shook with fatigue and her breath came heavy, Medrauta made no move to take advantage of her weakness.

"Hm?" The silver-haired knight raised an eyebrow, resting her sword on her shoulder as she sensed a lull in the battle. It was clear her opponents needed this moment to rest, and though it was theoretically disadvantageous for her to let them, Medrauta permitted it nonetheless.

"How are you still beating us!?" The knight cried desperately, her dark violet hair almost invisible against the darkness that blanketed their surroundings. "W-We can't die no matter what injuries we sustain... It's three on one... But we're still losing...! How!?"

Medrauta blinked. For a second, she was stunned speechless, unable to comprehend why her opponent couldn't answer such a simple question. Then, she raised her head and laughed, the sound echoing loudly into the night.

"Don't kid yourself, Trianna." Medrauta spat. "So what if you won't die even if I cut off your limbs and stab you in the heart? So what if there's three of you?" She shook her head, letting her blade fall from her shoulder and into her ready position.

In response, the three knights tensed, retreating from the pressure that Medrauta exuded with that mere movement.

"It doesn't matter if you can't die. It doesn't matter if there's three of you or three hundred of you." Medrauta declared. "Your first mistake was thinking that this pseudo-immortality of yours made you strong. It doesn't. Fools of your caliber wouldn't be able to touch me even after a thousand years."

"G-Graaah!" One of the knights, Duncan, leapt forward in anger. "How dare you...! We've sacrificed so much, and you still look down on us!?"

His sword swung swiftly at Medrauta's head, but the silver-haired knight had seen the blow coming even before Duncan began his swing. She flicked her wrist once, knocking his sword aside before thrusting the point of her own blade into Duncan's shoulder.

"Ghk!"

"The only one looking down on you is yourself, Duncan. You sacrificed your honor and dignity merely for a trifle like this instead of honing your skills. Do not place the blame on me. Now lay down your arms and renounce your pact. There's still so much more you could've done to grow stronger."