Chapter 281: Spar with new weapon

"Good morning, Captain," Eren greeted her, his voice warm with that infuriating, easy charm.

Emma didn’t even look him in the eye. Pointedly ignoring her boyfriend, the Swordmaster shifted her gaze towards the fuming, disheveled scholar clutching his waistband. "What in the world are you two bickering about before breakfast?"

"He stole my drink!" Norelia barked, pointing an accusatory finger at Eren’s chest. "I had that melon pressed with ice, and that bottomless glutton intercepted it like a common bandit!"

Emma let out a long, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand through her pink bangs. "You’re a genius professor and he’s a Duke heir, yet you’re wrestling over a glass of fruit pulp like alley cats. Just ring the bell and order another drink from the staff."

"It’s the principle of the matter!" Norelia grumbled, puffing her cheeks into an adorable pout before crossing her arms and stomping back toward her wicker sanctuary.

"Hey, Emma," Eren called out as she began strolling toward the weapon racks.

The tanned tomboy halted mid-stride, turning her head back over her sculpted shoulder. "What do you want now, Eren?"

Eren unslung the damp towel from his neck, his blue eyes locking onto hers with a spark of genuine eagerness. "Since you’re already dressed to break bones and looking like a walking war crime, why not have a proper spar with me? I’ve been itching to test my new weapon against someone who won’t break on the first swing."

Emma turned fully toward him, her storm-grey eyes narrowing as she evaluated his stance. The playful dismissal in her posture evaporated, replaced by the dangerous, coiled tension of an apex duelist smelling blood.

"You want to spar with me?" Emma murmured, a slow, wicked smirk tugging at her lips. "Don’t come crying when I use you to mop the dirt, Eren Volsver."

Meanwhile, up on the first-floor balcony overlooking the sprawling grounds, Aria Reedings leaned against the polished stone balustrade.

Her blue hair was loose, cascading over the shoulders of a flowing lavender silk morning robe that fluttered gently in the mountain breeze. In her hand, she swirled a teacup, her golden eyes watching the chaos below with cool, aristocratic amusement.

"Good morning."

A cool, commanding voice broke the quiet morning vibe.

Aria glanced over her shoulder to see Seraphina walking towards her. The Crown Princess was dressed in a pristine white-and-silver coat tailored to perfection, her silver hair tied into an intricate crown braid that accentuated the sharp, untouchable beauty of her porcelain face.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Aria greeted, her golden eyes flashing with wicked delight. "Did you manage to find any restful sleep last night... or were you too distracted pining away without a certain guy’s hand to hold?"

A vein pulsed faintly on Seraphina’s temple. Her red eyes flared with a lethal, icy glare that would have frozen an imperial knight in their boots.

"One more insolent word from that mouth of yours, Aria," Seraphina threatened in a whisper, "and I will personally sever that sharp tongue and mount it above the manor fireplace."

"My, how terrifying," Aria chuckled, taking a dainty sip of tea, utterly unbothered. "Come stand beside me, Sera. You’re missing the opening act."

Seraphina let out a small, imperial scoff, but she walked to the balustrade, resting her gloved hands on the marble. "What is so fascinating down there?"

"Look for yourself."

Down in the dusty courtyard, Emma was rolling her shoulders, loosening the corded tendons of her back with casual lethality. In her right hand, she gripped a sword.

Seraphina’s gaze sharpened with analytical appreciation. "The youngest Swordmaster on the continent taking the field... It will be fascinating to observe her form up close. In the slaughterhouse of Rujgard, everything was too chaotic to properly evaluate her strength."

She leaned slightly over the railing, scanning the perimeter of the ring. "Who on earth drew the short straw to be her sparring partner? None of your local provincial guards would last ten seconds."

Aria didn’t answer with words. She merely raised her slender index finger, pointing toward the shaded edge of the training grounds.

There, Eren was kneeling calmly on the manicured grass.

He was peeling away the cloth bindings wrapped around a long blade resting across his knees.

The last layer of binding fell away into the grass.

Eren stood up, holding the weapon loosely in one hand.

It was an ominous, slender blade of impossible composition. The metal was a matte-black void that seemed to swallow the sunlight. There was no reflection on it.

Up on the balcony, Seraphina’s fingers tightened on the balustrade, her red eyes narrowed. "What metal is that? It carries neither imperial hallmarks nor any blacksmith engravings."

Aria set her teacup down, her golden eyes glaring at the dark blade. "Even the Reedings vaults have that kind of alloy. It looks... ancient. Primordial."

Down in the dusty ring, Emma halted her easy warm-up. Her grey eyes locked onto the matte-black edge, her instincts firing warning flares along her spine.

"Where did you get that, Eren?" Emma demanded, rolling her wrists, her tone dropping low. "I know every kind of alloy used to make weapons in this kingdom. That thing didn’t come from human hands."

Eren tossed the scabbard into the grass, taking a slow, two-handed grip on the wrapped hilt. A smirk curved his lips as he met her gaze.

"Carolynn gave it to me," he said smoothly. "A little gift to end the Rujgard."

Emma’s eyebrows shot up before her expression smoothed into pure, unadulterated menace. "So your demon mistress gave you a toy? Good. That gives me all the more reason to smash it to pieces."

BOOM.

The ground beneath Emma’s boots ruptured.

She vanished with a violent thunderclap of compressed aura detonating beneath her heels. In a fraction of an eyeblink, she closed a thirty-foot gap, appearing directly over Eren with her steel sword drawn back, coated in a greenish-blue aura that shrieked through the morning air.

She brought it down in a vertical cleave that could shatter a stone.

Instead of dodging, Eren stepped straight into the descending arc.

His blue eyes sparked with icy, unnatural focus as he activated the Battlefield Clarity, slowing the violent arc of her steel down to a readable frame. He pivoted on his back foot, twisting his torso at a sickeningly tight angle, bringing the black blade up not to meet the strike head-on, but to shave along the spine of her momentum.

CLAAAANG!

Sparks erupted in a violent shower. The black sword didn’t chip, nor did it shudder; instead, a crimson vein along its edge flared, absorbing the shockwave whole. Eren fluidly guided her lethal cleave off-center, slamming Emma’s heavy sword straight into the dirt, carving a three-foot trench through the lawn.

"Cute trick," Emma growled, not missing a beat.

Using the planted sword as an anchor, she whipped her entire body around in a vicious, horizontal roundhouse kick aimed straight at Eren’s jaw.