Head Butler of the Fallen Villainess-Chapter 64 - 14th Days (9) | Windy Training Session (7)

CLANG!

Martha’s sword clashed against Sebas’s blade—a sharp, ringing sound cutting through the tense silence—!

The knight’s attacks were relentless. With each swing, she poured all her strength into her strikes, trying to force an opening—or at the very least, shake the butler’s unyielding guard—

Yet, no matter how fiercely her blade came down, it was met with the same casual ease.

The butler simply... remained perfectly composed, deflecting her strikes with almost perfect ease.

His sword moved as if it weighed nothing—graceful, fluid... and devastatingly efficient.

And yet for Martha—

CLANG—CLANG—CLANG!

"Ugh...!"

Every clash of steel sent tremors up her arms. Her grip tightened as frustration gnawed at the edges of her focus—

’Why… why can’t I break through...?!’

With a sharp inhale, she shifted her stance and struck again—harder, faster—!

CLANG—CLANG—CLANG!

But no matter how much force she put behind her blade, the butler countered every move effortlessly... as if he barely needed to try.

It was... such an infuriating sight for the brunette knight.

Because… she knew her own strength. The Kingdom’s Knights had always trained rigorously every day, and among her peers, she stood at the top.

Yet against him—

CLANG!!!

’...It’s like my strength means nothing...!’

A bead of sweat trailed down her temple as their swords locked again. She gritted her teeth, pushing with all her might—trying to overpower him—!

But... it didn’t even budge.

Sebas tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at her.

"...You’re still making the same mistake as before, Miss Knight," he remarked dryly, his voice calm—too calm for someone being attacked with such ferocity. "Especially with relying on brute strength alone—that won’t get you anywhere here, you know."

"I—!"

She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to snap back.

Because… he wasn’t wrong.

No matter how hard she pushed, it felt like trying to move a solid wall.

His sword didn’t waver—didn’t even tremble under her pressure. It was as if she were fighting something inhuman.

"...Your strength isn’t the problem either," Sebas continued, almost as if he found the situation mildly amusing. "In fact… it’s quite impressive. But against someone stronger—"

He lightly shifted his grip, twisting his wrist with subtle precision.

A sharp clang echoed as her sword was knocked aside—easily, like brushing away a leaf.

"—you’ll only exhaust yourself."

Martha stumbled back a step, her heartbeat pounding in her ears... the hand that was gripping her sword’s hilt trembled slightly, despite her best efforts to steady it.

’Stronger…?’ She clenched her jaw. ’...Just how strong is this man...?’

While she was catching her breath, the butler… didn’t pursue. Instead, he lowered his sword slightly—offering her a brief reprieve.

"You’re trying to overpower me," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "But I’ll be blunt with you—that’s just damn pointless. You’ve already realized that, haven’t you?"

Martha’s fingers trembled against her hilt.

Of course, she realized.

’How could I not?’

His strength… it was on a whole other level. No matter how much force she used, it wasn’t enough to tip the scales.

And yet…

"...You’re not even using your full strength, are you?" The words slipped from her lips before she could stop herself.

Sebas’s smile widened—just slightly.

"You got me there, Miss Knight~."

He raised his sword again, that same air of effortless grace clinging to him that made Martha tense up…!

"Well, if I were really serious… you wouldn’t still be standing~."

The weight of his nonchalant words hit her like a blow.

He wasn’t even trying.

And that cold, hard truth was a dagger twisting deep into her heart.

Her pride as a knight... no, as a swordsman demanded that she fight harder—that she prove herself worthy against a swordsman of his caliber.

A flicker of determination burned in her eyes.

If ordinary swordplay wouldn’t break through—then she’d use ’that’...!

Martha inhaled sharply, mana surging through her veins as she tightened her grip. Energy pulsed through her arm—fierce and raw—as it gathered along her blade.

A faint glow traced the length of the sword, growing brighter with every heartbeat until the steel shone like molten silver...!

Sebas raised another eyebrow out of interest. "Hmm... Using an ’Art,’ aren’t you?"

She didn’t respond. There was no point in holding back now—!

"Blade Art—Sunder Fang!"

With a fierce shout, she lunged forward—her blade gleaming as mana surged through it!

The air grew heavy. Every muscle in her body tensed as she swung down with all her might—aiming to break through the butler’s seemingly impenetrable guard—!

It was a strike honed through countless hours of training—a technique meant to shatter any defense standing in its way.

And yet—

Sebas didn’t even budge.

His sword met hers head-on—

CLANG!!!

A deafening impact echoed across the plateau, but... the butler remained as calm as ever, his arm steady despite the raw power behind her strike.

"Not bad," he mused lightly, "but again... a bit pointless trying to overpower me."

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Before Martha could process his words—

A sharp, precise twist of his wrist deflected her blade to the side—robbing her attack of its momentum.

And in the very next instant—

CLANG!

His sword swept low in a blur—

In one clean motion, Martha’s sword was ripped from her grasp and sent spinning through the air, embedding itself into the ground several paces away.

The plateau fell deathly silent.

Martha froze—chest heaving, fingers trembling in the empty air where her sword had been.

Sebas lowered his blade, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his glove.

"That’s enough for today," he declared with an air of finality.

"W-what...?!" Her breath hitched. "N-no—! I-I can still—"

"Nope, it’s already past noon—lunchtime," he cut her off smoothly, as if her efforts had been nothing more than a passing distraction.

He moved past her and went toward the astonished Anastasia and Bella, who had been watching with bated breath.

"...We still have jobs to do, Miss Knight, so we’ll continue this training another time, alright?"

"Ugh..."

Martha’s jaw clenched in protest—but deep down, she knew he was right.

Even if her pride burned at the thought of ending things like this… she knew there was no point in pushing further right now.

She had responsibilities—to Lady Anastasia and to the estate.

Still, as she retrieved her fallen blade, the bitter sting of defeat lingered as she directed her burning gaze to the butler’s back.

Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by him as he then turned his head back toward the frustrated knight.

"...Strength alone won’t be enough to protect the people you care about... Miss Martha."

"...!"

His words hung heavy in the air as he left the ’battlefield’ that was their training ground in favor of Lady Anastasia’s presence—the mistress watching his arrival with calm curiosity as he then discussed their next plan of the day.

But... what the knight saw… was her own reflection flickering in the gleam of his polished blade—her expression still twisted in silent frustration, not just from the defeat, but also... from his words.