The Extra Saved the Terminally Ill Princess and Ran Away - Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Irene Yustia (1)

***

A knight… is a steadfast sword, protecting the weak.

A single sentence, a dying wish, the foundation of Irene Yustia's being, the catalyst for her obsessive devotion to the knight's sword.

She was captivated by those words, spoken by a knight of the Yustia family, who had sacrificed himself to protect her, the sole weak link in their group.

Irene, who, as a child, had been as carefree and whimsical as any other girl, regretted the day she had insisted on visiting the tulip field, despite the pouring rain.

Perhaps the lack of such flower fields within the Yustia estate, a family known for producing generations of knights, fueled her childish whim.

She had believed she wouldn't be able to witness the beautiful sight unless she went to the tulip field.

Foolishly.

As if those tulips were so important.

As if they would disappear if she didn't see them that day.

They wouldn't wilt from lack of attention, yet young Irene had thrown a tantrum, insisting that she would die if she didn't see the tulips that very day.

And as if by a cruel twist of fate, what awaited her at the tulip field, accompanied by fifteen knights and several maids, wasn't a field of beautiful flowers, but eight demons.

The demons, too, seemed surprised to encounter anyone in such dreary weather.

For a few seconds, they simply stared at each other, assessing the situation.

The Yustia knights acted first.

They ordered the maids to escape with Irene on horseback.

Even the maids of the Yustia family were trained in basic self-defense and horsemanship.

But young Irene, unwilling to abandon her knights, protested, and one of the knights, approaching her, uttered those fateful words.

That they were knights, and they would protect her, the weak one.

Even if it meant their deaths.

He then charged towards the demons without waiting for her reply, and Irene, trembling, could only flee, carried away by her maids.

Even for the Yustia knights, victory was a near impossibility.

Knights, specializing in close-range combat, against demons who could wield magic from afar, in an open field like the tulip field, the outcome was predictable.

And they had another disadvantage: they had to prevent the demons from taking Irene hostage. They were sacrificial lambs.

Sacrificial lambs, protecting the weak Irene.

This was the reason, the past, the regret, that drove Irene to abandon her femininity, to dedicate her life to the knight's sword, to become the Twisted Knight.

Years passed, and Irene blossomed into a beautiful, yet fierce, young woman.

And upon entering the academy, the catalyst for her transformation into the Twisted Knight appeared.

-I hear you're the top scorer of this year's class, Irene Yustia. The Yustia family, famous for its knights, right? Let me show you what a real knight's sword looks like, little lady.

His condescending tone.

His leering gaze, lingering on her chest and hips.

He was clearly not a skilled swordsman, but Irene decided to give the academy the benefit of the doubt.

Perhaps she was the one who was out of touch.

But as expected, his swordsmanship was flashy and frivolous, lacking any substance.

Her instincts, honed by years of training, had been right.

So, under the guise of a sparring match, she proceeded to systematically break both his arms.

He had dared to mock her, a Yustia, with his pathetic display of swordsmanship, calling it a knight's sword.

He had defiled the sword that protected the weak, the very sword she had dedicated her life to.

She showed him no mercy.

And because of this,

She couldn't tolerate the boy's deception.

-The wounds from the Lycansthrope incident and the arena… they're the same. And you're denying it?-

She, who had dedicated her life to the sword,

Recognized the marks as being made by the same blade, the same knightly strike.

The same thrill she had felt when facing the Lycansthrope, she felt again when she saw the marks in the arena.

If the Lycansthrope's defeat was a miracle, a single, decisive strike, then the marks in the arena were also his handiwork.

And that meant he was hiding his true strength, and Grace, the so-called Saintess of Truth, was lying for him.

Grace's lie didn't bother her.

Irene didn't believe in divine grace. She believed in the power of the sword, the will to protect oneself, and the weak.

-So what if she lied? It was a lie to protect a comrade… and a request from the one who defeated a demon. She couldn't refuse.-

Truth and lies weren't absolute values to her. She didn't judge Grace for her actions.

No, she didn't have the time or energy for that. She was far more concerned about the boy, who had deliberately concealed his strength.

-With such power… why didn't you protect the weak?-

That was the source of her anger. That he possessed such power, yet his sword had never been used to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

And during the tournament, she had seen the injured students being carried to the infirmary, a clear violation of her principles.

How ruthlessly had he crushed those weaker than him, simply to achieve a swift victory?

If he truly was an assassin, she could understand, if not condone, his actions.

She wouldn't lecture someone whose talent lay in a different path.

But he had defeated the Lycansthrope in a single strike.

He had performed a feat worthy of legend, cleaving through the darkness with a radiant light.

He was the wielder of Solaris, a sword she considered a sacred relic.

And yet, he held the same warped worldview as a knight who served only a single master, a single liege.

The academy staff, thinking logically, hadn't reached the same conclusion. They knew that the wielder of Lunar Eclipse couldn't possibly be chosen by Solaris.

Even the Headmaster had witnessed Berry being rejected by Solaris.

So, they accepted the testimony that Berry wasn't the wielder of that radiant blade.

But Irene Yustia knew the truth.

And that's why her conclusion, while similar to the boy's, was different.

He had correctly deduced that she was interested in his swordsmanship,

But he hadn't realized that she had also recognized the distinct style of his swordsmanship, her instincts as sharp as any beast's.

While her deduction was based on intuition, not concrete evidence,

Her instincts had never failed her. She was the only one who recognized the similarity between the marks in the arena and the wounds on the Lycansthrope.

So, she challenged him.

Even if he was beyond her reach, even if he could defeat her without breaking a sweat, she had to try.

To clash swords with him, to discuss the true meaning of chivalry, to impart even a sliver of her own understanding of the knight's sword.

That was her decision.

***

Irene's sword smashed into the ground where the boy had been standing, sending dust and debris flying. Again, and again.

Her target, always just out of reach, a shimmering mirage, disappearing before she could strike.

"Crimson Wrath!!"

She called out to her sword, and the dragon's blade roared, its flames intensifying.

The dragon's breath gem glowed brighter.

If he disappeared like smoke, she would engulf the entire area in flames.

Whoosh!

She swung her sword, a wide, sweeping arc of fire, but,

Clang!

The boy's Lunar Eclipse appeared, intercepting her blade, extinguishing, or rather, distorting, the flames.

For a fleeting moment, their blades and their gazes met.

Her eyes, burning like embers, and his, calm and deep as the night sky.

She roared, her voice filled with rage,

"You possess such power, and yet, you've been hiding it?!"

His will, to protect the single girl he loved, clashed against hers, the will to protect the weak.

A moment Irene wouldn't have experienced in the original story.

In the story, she was destined to fall deeper in love with Ian Cedric, her obsession with chivalrous swordsmanship ultimately leading to her demise.

But this single moment, this unexpected confrontation,

Began to shift the course of her tragic fate.

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