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Since the Mantra Style was a world-evading technique, which used an acute sense of the surroundings to strike the opponent, its ultimate technique was to use the spatial fabric.

This was the strike that he used to win against Ivory. He used the loose point across the fabric to reach ultimate speed and strike at the opponent\'s weak points.

Yurirl was a master of finding a weak point since his ability made him the strongest swordsman. Lyle had to admit that, in comparison, his technique was lacking, but it was enough to kill his enemies.

His sword touched one of the weak spatial points, accelerating his speed toward Oren. But, of course, he was using the back of his blade and would stop once he disarmed the man. Even now, Oren has yet to move.

"I admit that you are strong, but there is a glaring flaw once rage mixes with your swordsmanship," said Oren slowly, as if this wasn\'t happening in a few seconds. "I have no fancy technique, but I have conviction."

A shadow exploded from behind the young man as if the last word was a trigger that Oren pulled. Lyle glanced at the giant knight who appeared behind him, looking down on him through a caged helmet.

\'This aura is….\'

It was overwhelming, as if Oren had pulled a blanket that covered a terrifying monster. Being a swordsman, Lyle could tell that this armored knight was more than just an illusion. It was a threat to his life.

Oren twisted the hilt of the liquid sword in front of him, making it jump upward before striking down at Lyle. It bounced through the air as if there were walls that Lyle could not see and rushed toward his heart.

All of this happened in a millisecond, and Lyle had a sword close to his heart. However, if the two of them kept going, then both of them would be struck at the same time.

In that instance, Lyle realized that his whole life was in danger. He would not die, but he would lose his rage, the only thing keeping him alive. Thus, he jumped back, evading the blade and canceling his attack.

The liquid sword pierced empty air, and Oren was unharmed. He was staring at Lyle even before he landed on the ground, expecting the whole sequence of events. The Knights Commander felt exposed.

\'A deme-ranker is having difficulty against a late rei-ranker?\' thought Lyle as sweat covered his forehead. \'No, this is not about strength, but about mind games. Oren knows I would dodge in the last second, so his attack should start now!\'

Oren didn\'t move, despite the knight\'s analysis. Instead, he broke his stance and stood straight, leaving himself open and Lyle confused. The liquid sword flowed around him like a snake, looking dreadful.

"If your heart were serene, then this sword wouldn\'t have scared you," said Oren as he passed his hand through his sword, making it ripple. "You felt fear because you have built your life around a fragile house of rage."

"For a man who chose mutual defeat, you are quite arrogant," said Lyle as a droplet of sweat fell from his nose. "What is that thing behind you?"

"Oh, you can see Lancelot?" said Oren with surprise as he stared back. "He is a spirit that I came across when Kera was attacked. This might be the first time that someone sees him."

"You refer to this creature as a human," said Lyle while raising his eyes toward it. Just staring into its soulless eyes made his heart beat faster. "Oren Silvera," gulped down the knight, "have you sold your soul to the devil?"

"Only half of it," replied Oren without a care as he changed his stance. "This reminds me. One of my swords has wrath, but it might be different than yours."

"In the end, you are the same."

"Might be, but I choose to believe that I would never let rage blind me. This is, after all, a sword of conviction," said Oren as he lowered his body and placed the sword on his waist.

Before Lyle could reply, something passed through him. He blinked his eyes as Oren Silvera still stood in the same stance. However, the sword in his hand was flowing in a different direction now.

As he stared down at his body, Lyle found his chest to have a white slash across it. From that slash leaked all of his rage and sorrows as a different emotion invaded his heart.

"The weakness of rage is being blind to everything else," said Oren with sadness as he stared at Lyle, but he wasn\'t looking at him. "I don\'t know if I won, swordsman. You will have to live through the change that your heart suffers. That will be our real battle."

Oren turned around to leave, and the knight behind him dissipated. Even when the knight tried to reach for his sword, it was useless. His heart was not calm anymore, and the conflict made him stand there, defeated.

"Wait, Oren Silvera!" said Lyle to the leaving man, and that was all he could say. He tried to cover the slash on his chest, but it was useless.  "How did I lose? Am I that weak compared to both brothers?"

It killed him that he lost here, days before the execution. Even more, he lost to someone far weaker than he was without even being able to use his blessing or ability. It was the first time he was defeated in a swords-focused battle since Yurirl left Ilios.

"If this were a real fight, I would have lost. However, I won because your rage blinded your judgment, and I had this sword with me."

"Then, I lost out of a mismatch?"

"Is this a loss, swordsman?" said Oren with a smile as he turned his head. "Your sword needs not rage but serenity. I gave you the opportunity to become stronger, so seize it."

Oren left after that, together with the rest of the tree spirits. As for Lyle, he was left there with a gaping hole in his chest, although no blood came out. Footsteps came from behind him, and it was the old researcher.

"Are you here to land the finishing blow, old man?" asked Lyle with a smile as sweat rolled down his face. The attack might not have struck his body, but it changed his soul. "You get one strike. If I live, then you die."

The old researcher stared at him in silence. His white sideburns, the only thing remaining in his hair, swayed in the wind. His face carried a frown as he stared at Lyle and then at Oren.

Lyle saw the old researcher approach him, and he grabbed his sword. Before he could master the desire to fight back, the senior researcher pulled Lyle\'s arm and placed it around his neck to carry him.

"This place will be infested with knights once words reach the capital," said the old researcher as he pulled Lyle to his feet and made his way toward the forest. "I don\'t know what this wound is, but you must rest."

The old researcher dragged the knight toward the forest. Lyle stared at him, and he saw the bruises on his neck. They came as a result of Lyle almost strangling him to death. Thus, Lyle had to ask.

"I almost killed you, so why are you helping me?"

"Your revenge is justified, while mine is not. I committed many sins, and while I struggled for life, I knew I didn\'t deserve to live. However, I still want to make a few things right while I still breathe."

Lyle stared at the old researcher, who was growing tired. Lyle was wearing light armor, but he was a heavy man, while the researcher was just an ordinary man. A rumbling echoed from a distance and then a horn.

"The border patrol has been sent here," said Lyle after he heard the horn. "We need to find a place to hide before they are here. The forest would be a good place."

"Leave it to me!" said the old researcher as he struggled to pull Lyle toward safety. As he did, Lyle watched, and then his eyes turned toward the slash on his chest. It was as if all of his rage had found an outlet and was leaving his body.

\'Who would I be once this rage is gone?\'

Lyle wanted to slash his chest apart to replace the leaking rage with blood. Although he knew that would only kill him, he would rather be dead than defeated. This was everything he believed in, and he didn\'t want to lose it three days before his revenge.

"I hate you, Oren Silvera," said Lyle as his consciousness started fading and then disappeared. After that, he remembered nothing.