Chapter 72: Stalking

What am I even doing right now? Every few minutes, that thought crossed Elaine's mind. Following someone secretly.

She knew all too well that it wasn't the right thing to do. An instinctive aversion made her heart uneasy, yet she couldn't stop herself.

Because she was curious.

Curious about the answer to the unbelievable event that had happened today. To find that answer, she naturally had to observe a man named Max.

Regardless of her dislike, there was a lack of judgment about him, about the aspects he had been hiding until now. There was a need to verify them.

"Let's go," Max, who had been walking, climbed onto the carriage that was waiting for him. Elaine's eyes widened. If she delayed any longer, she'd lose him.

But there was no time to catch the carriage, so what then? Run. Elaine ran.

"Huff, huff..."

Sweat poured down her face like rain, her chest heaving as if her heart were lodged in her throat. But somehow, she managed to follow.

Though Elaine walked the path of magic, she hadn't neglected physical training.

Even so, she barely kept up.

'71...'

She recognized the entrance, specifically the entrance to the lower district. A place where nobles like Max would never have to approach in their lifetime.

A world of the miserable and impoverished lower class. But Elaine remembered encountering Max in an alley in the lower district. It had been incomprehensible at the time, and she hadn't bothered to find out why.

She hadn't even wanted to care.

But now, things were different.

'There's something, for sure,' Elaine thought.

She had a feeling that something related to Max's secret lay hidden here. Taking a deep breath, Elaine stealthily followed behind Max as he moved forward without hesitation. His familiar movements indicated that this wasn't his first time here.

He had clearly been here before.

As Elaine pondered where he could be going, something caught her eye. Then she realized why.

'This road is...'

The lower district wasn't designed with meticulous planning. The arrangement of buildings was haphazard, the roads a confusing web of narrow alleys. Anyone unfamiliar with the area would get lost.

The real sword cut through the air, sharp and swift. Elaine's eyes widened in shock.

This wasn't training. It was real combat. The very intent to take an enemy's life. And the person wielding it was her father. A chill ran down her spine.

'I have to stop this,' she thought, fear gripping her. She trusted her father more than anyone, but this was different.

She feared an accident might happen. But Max remained calm, almost unnervingly so. His eyes burned with a cold, stern light.

Shick!

Finally, his sword moved.

The movement was precise and clear. No superfluous actions. It was as if he had transferred the characteristics of the Imperial Style 8, a technique her father had mastered all his life, into his own movements.

Elaine was mesmerized. She had never imagined seeing her father's presence reflected in someone else's swordsmanship.

Clang!

The first collision told her all she needed to know. Max had been pushed back.

It wasn't just a matter of offense and defense—it was the gap in power and experience. But Max showed no sign of defeat or frustration.

"You're lacking," her father said calmly.

Max nodded, accepting his shortcomings without a trace of irritation. Yet, he took another step forward, his eyes still determined.

"And he's not overly excited or tense... His hand holding the sword remains cool and composed..." Elaine muttered, frozen by the realization. This wasn't the Max she knew.

The lazy, negligent Max who never put in effort—he was gone. In his place was someone else entirely.

"The momentum is good," her father commented.

"Thanks to a good teacher," Max replied.

The fierce battle continued, with Max still being pushed back. His wounds multiplied, blood stained his clothes, and his breathing became labored.

But his eyes remained sharp, refusing to give in.

Until eventually—

Keeng!

The sword flew out of Max's hand, disarmed by Turk's final blow.