Orin swung his sword in a slow arc, testing its weight, eyes locked on Hector. His shield was raised high, his stance balanced, measured. He had noticed it before, but now it was undeniable: there was something impenetrable about Hector's defense. It wasn't just skill. It was precision. Every movement, every shift of his shield, was calculated. Orin had sparred against Perseus, Sirius, even Kuma, but none of them radiated this kind of quiet, unshakable confidence.

"Orin," Hector said calmly from behind his shield, his voice steady, "I'll be blunt with you. I've observed your performance ever since you arrived at the academy. You're not cut out to be a knight."

Orin narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"Your defense is weak. Your movements... too impulsive. And more importantly, your instincts aren't suited to leading a disciplined unit. But..." Hector's voice softened just slightly. "There's still time for you. I think the Warrior Course would better suit you. You'd thrive there, reflexes, counterattacks, reaction time. That's where your strengths lie."

So that's what this was all about.

Orin clenched his jaw. It wasn't that he denied his own flaws. He had struggled. He had faltered. From his early days at the military academy to his first days here at Solaris, every step had been an uphill battle. But he had never backed down.

And he wasn't about to start now.

“I'll prove you wrong, Hector,” Orin said firmly, lowering his stance. “And you'll tell me the name of the one who gave you that information. Whether you want to or not.”

Without another word, Orin surged forward, his blade flashing through the air.

Steel clashed violently against steel, the sharp clang of impact ringing through the empty training ground. Orin struck again, then again... his sword bouncing off Hector's shield with no sign of progress. It was like slamming a blade against a wall of iron.

But Orin didn't relent. He wasn't attacking blindly. Each strike was a test, a probe. He was analyzing Hector's form, watching his shoulders, his footwork, the way his weight shifted with each block. Looking, hoping, for a gap, however small.

But Hector didn't budge.

“If this is all you've got,” Hector muttered calmly, “then it won't be enough.”

Then he moved.

Faster than expected, Hector stepped forward, cutting through Orin's offense like a wave crashing over a sandcastle. His sword arm moved with a strange, curving motion, and slammed into Orin's shield with explosive force.

Orin staggered.

In the next instant, a boot slammed into his stomach.

“Guh—!”

The breath was knocked out of him. Orin stumbled back several steps, his vision blurring at the edges. His arms trembled under the weight of his shield. But even as pain radiated through his core, his spirit refused to break.

“Your defense is your weakness, Orin.”

Hector's voice rang with clinical precision as he paced lightly, sword still raised, his expression unreadable.

“You still don't understand the true potential of a shield. You have the basic tools. Yes. But no depth. The way you plant your feet, the rotation of your hips, the grip tension in your hands... It all tells me what you'll do next. It's almost child's play to read you and find an opening.”

He stopped, tapping his sword against his shield with a dull clang.

“At your current level, that shield is more of a burden than a benefit. Do you understand now why I said you're not cut out to be a knight?”

Orin forced himself up, pain pulsing through his ribs as he staggered to his feet. But his glare was sharp, burning with defiance.

“You're lying,” he said, breathless but resolute.

Hector blinked. Then shrugged as if it didn't matter.

“Am I?” He asked calmly. “Look at yourself. You can barely stand. Doesn't that prove everything I've said?”

“No,” Orin growled. “I'm not talking about your evaluation of me... I'm talking about what you said about Huxley and the princess.”

The atmosphere shifted.

For the first time, Hector's expression hardened into something unreadable, his grip on his sword tightening. And when he spoke again, there was a bitter edge to his voice.

“I see... So I've been going too easy on you.”

With that, he charged.

His steps were sharp, fluid, a predator closing in on his prey. The pressure that radiated from him was suffocating, but Orin didn't flinch.

Instead, at the last moment, he took a deep breath and shouted:

“ACTIVATE KNIGHT SKILL: Total Defense!”

A series of glowing, translucent shields materialized in a ring around him, hovering protectively like sentinels. Hector's eyes narrowed with clear disapproval.

“Is that supposed to stop me?” he muttered.

With a flash of movement, Hector smashed one of the ethereal shields aside with his own, creating a momentary opening in the defense. But Orin had anticipated that.

He already knew that move.

In the same breath, he canceled his skill, dispelling the translucent shields, and raised his physical shield to cover the now-exposed flank, feinting a counterattack from an unexpected angle.

It should've worked.

But even without looking, Hector moved as though he had already seen it all. With uncanny precision, he shifted his shield just enough to deflect Orin's blade, redirecting it away harmlessly.

Orin's eyes widened. He predicted it? But there was no time to react.

Hector pivoted and slammed the edge of his shield into Orin's chest with brutal force. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him sprawling back onto the ground, coughing and gasping for breath.

“Orin... don't you understand why I'm doing this?” Hector's voice was laced with bitterness, a weight that clung to every word. “You've spent your whole life chasing ghosts. A false princess... and a dream of surpassing your father as a knight. But both are illusions. It's time you found your own path, not waste it wandering after a fantasy.”

Orin, still catching his breath and struggling to sit up, looked up at him, defiant.

And then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

“That day, when I overheard your conversation with Huxley...” Orin said, his tone shifting. Calmer, but sharper. “There was something that didn't sit right with me. I was so caught up in the shock that I didn't notice it right away... but now I remember.”

He locked eyes with Hector, the fire returning to his gaze.

“You mentioned something the two of you had heard from the Oracle. You tried to dismiss it... but that slip told me everything. You do have a deeper connection with Huxley. One you don't want to admit.”

Hector's expression stiffened.

For the first time, his composed facade began to crack. His brows furrowed, and a flicker of tension passed through his clenched jaw.

“I see,” he said, his voice low and cold. “You really don't get it, do you?”

He tightened his grip on his sword.

“The connection you think exists between me and Huxley... it's not what you believe. You created it! Through the story you clung to, the one about the princess. You forced us into that narrative. Not the other way around.”

Without waiting another second, Hector charged.

Despite the storm simmering behind his eyes, his movements remained fluid and precise. Controlled. He wasn't just fast, he was efficient, like a machine trained for this very moment.

Steel clashed with steel as Hector's sword became a relentless storm.

Orin barely had time to block. He tried to hold his ground, but every blow pushed him further back. A cut across the forearm. A strike to the ribs. A slash grazing his leg. Each attack chipped away at him, physically and mentally.

Hector didn't stop.

“Do you think Huxley or I would just ignore it?” He said sharply between blows. “That we'd let someone walk around claiming we were part of a story we had no memory of?”

A vicious horizontal slash knocked Orin's shield aside. He stumbled.

“When your obsession grew... when you started digging where you shouldn't... do you think we didn't notice?”

Orin gritted his teeth, barely managing to block the next strike, but the force still knocked him off-balance.

“I had never even met Huxley before,” Hector continued, his strikes measured, every one driving Orin further into the defensive. “But I learned he too had sought answers from the Oracle himself. And he told him the same thing he told me.”

With one final, heavy blow, Hector sent Orin reeling to the ground again.

“There is no Princess Andromeda in the Empire,” he said grimly. “Not in the past. Not now. Not ever.”

And with those final words, Hector struck a fierce blow to Orin's stomach. The impact sent him crashing to the ground, hands trembling as they barely kept him upright. A burst of blood escaped from his mouth, splattering the dirt below.

But to Hector's surprise... Orin laughed.

A dry, painful chuckle, but laughter nonetheless.

“Finally... you admit it,” Orin said through clenched teeth, spitting out blood. “Now I know who told you everything.”

Hector's eyes widened.

Even after being pushed to the brink, Orin was still pressing forward, still chasing the truth with that same maddening determination. Maybe it was that unrelenting will, or maybe it was the familiarity of seeing his childhood friend so defiant, but for the first time during their entire clash... Hector hesitated.

He lowered his guard, just slightly. His sword dipped, and his shield shifted.

And that was all Orin needed.

With a sudden burst of strength, Orin rose to his feet like a spring released. Driven not by stamina, but sheer will, he lunged forward and swung his sword in a wide arc aimed straight at Hector.

Hector's instincts kicked in too late. He raised his shield, but just as the blades were about to meet, Orin's voice rang out across the training grounds.

“ACTIVATE KNIGHT SKILL: Solar Sword!”

In an instant, Orin’s blade ignited in radiant golden light. The heat it radiated shimmered in the air, like the surface of a sun forged into steel. When it collided with Hector's shield, it didn't just strike, it melted through it like fire through parchment.

With a searing hiss, the shield was split in two.

Half of it clattered to the ground, glowing red-hot, its molten edges dripping steel like tears. 

Hector looked down at what remained in his hand. Just the battered upper curve of his shield. His gaze shifted back to Orin, whose chest rose and fell heavily, sweat and blood trailing down his face, but whose eyes burned with unmistakable resolve.

“You knew from the beginning,” Orin said between gasps. “The person who told you all that... was Nicola Papin. The former Oracle of Solaris. Right?”

Hector didn't answer.

Instead, he silently dropped what remained of his shield and took a step back, raising only his sword. His expression was unreadable now.

“Now it makes sense,” Orin said, his voice hoarse but steady. “Your reaction when I asked Professor Aldulfin about him... You already knew. You already knew about the Oracle.”

Hector's expression didn't change. If anything, he looked colder now.

“That doesn't change the truth,” he replied flatly. “None of it does.”

He took a single step forward, sword in hand: no shield, no hesitation. His intent was clear.

Orin raised his own shield, barely able to keep his trembling body upright. Every breath felt like fire in his lungs. Every movement ached. But he knew, this was his only chance.

All or nothing.

As Hector closed the distance, Orin surged forward, pouring everything he had into a barrage of desperate attacks. One, two, three, he struck again and again, trying to exploit the opening left by Hector's lack of a shield.

But Hector didn't need one.

With nothing but his sword, he parried each blow cleanly, fluidly, as though he were dancing through the storm. His movements were sharp and exact, almost effortless. Orin's attacks, wild and relentless as they were, never found their mark.

Second after second, the weight of it all began to crush him.

“I told you... you never learned to use your shield properly,” Hector said calmly, stepping back as he raised his sword high, the blade gleaming under the light. “Your stance collapses under pressure. And worst of all—”

He swung the sword with terrifying force.

“—you leave yourself open.”

The impact struck like a thunderclap. Orin's shield was torn from his arm, spinning through the air before landing several meters away. For a fleeting moment, Orin saw a small opening in Hector's stance. A chance. A final chance.

He raised his sword to counter. But his strength failed him.

The blade slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a dull clang. His knees buckled. His vision blurred.

Hector stood over him now, calm and unshaken.

Orin could only kneel there, gasping for air, feeling his consciousness slipping away.

And in that last moment, just before darkness took him, one final thought echoed in his mind:

“He didn't even use his Knight Skills...”

And with that bitter realization, Orin collapsed.

Unconscious. Defeated.