The Romance Fantasy Novel MC is Only Into Me

“Ransell Dante.”
The face of the Count of Runter grew cold. A subtle, fierce aura welled up, causing the surrounding earth and sand to tremble.
The sharp-witted suspected that the count might be possessed, but Ransell knew better. He was perfectly sane.

Calloused palms and the faintly rising aura of magic could be felt. This was the reality of the elderly knight, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ who had never put down his sword even for a single day in his entire life, as Ransell had witnessed the Count of Runter.
Any inexperienced rookie would lose their strength in their legs just from facing him. The guards even involuntarily stepped back.
“Do you understand what your actions mean right now?”
“I am a knight as well, Your Excellency.”

Ransell met his gaze clearly and answered.
“Why would you not understand the significance of a duel to the death?”
“Considering you are still an immature boy, I will give you one chance to back down. Pick up your thrown sword.”
The count’s half-closed eyes were as cold as ice.

“You’d better think carefully, brat of the Dante family. If you back down now, it may be disgraceful, but you won’t regret that choice for the rest of your life. Hurry up and pick it up. I too have children. I do not wish to send unnecessary condolences to the Marquis Dante.”
Die, or flee.
That was the choice given.
Ransell’s answer was already decided.
“Surely you know. A knight has no second chances.”
“...Very well.”

The Count of Runter turned around.
The knights surrounding him looked as if their eyes were burning with fire. They were desperate to deal with the reckless young knight who had insulted their lord immediately.
“Who will step forward?”
“My lord, I will...”
“Everyone.”

As Ransell’s voice fell, the flow of air suddenly stopped. A frost swept over, and the night air seemed to drop several degrees instantly.
“I will defeat every knight here. Your Excellency, Count of Runter.”
“...”
Tilting his head slightly, Ransell continued.

“For the honor of Clerk Merry. For the chivalry of Ransell Dante. If the worth of those two ends with just one knight, it would only invite ridicule.”
“Ugh...”
“That’s why I told you not to make a fuss.”
“But still, but still...”
“But still or not, what is this? You’re not a criminal.”
Marigold shivered in the chilly wind blowing through the broken window.
Imprisoned in the tower of Runter Manor, already shaking with despair, the incessant nagging from Pina layered on top crushed her self-esteem completely.

A bowl of soggy oat porridge sat at her feet, as if to mock her pitiful state.
“Just admit everything you did wrong now and beg sincerely. Then they said they would just let you go. Why do you keep being stubborn?”
“...As an administrator, my record...”
“Then live locked up here for life. I don’t care.”
“Ugh!”
Marigold’s scream as she clutched her head.

“Ughhhh...?!”
At that moment, a noisy sound reached her ears. It was coming from outside the tower window.
It seemed a commotion had broken out; many people were running about busily.

“Your Excellency, Count of Runter! Ransell Dante of the Marquis Dante family has come to prove his chivalry!”
A familiar voice rang in her ears the next moment.
“Ah, be careful!”

Pina shouted hurriedly as Marigold leaned far out of the tower window.
She caught sight of the manor courtyard—and even a man with a familiar appearance.
“Lord Ransell?”

 
“Henry Hawkwood. Understand if he can’t control his strength.”
A tall man stepped forward holding a bastard sword. He was a full head taller than Ransell.
This was a duel of chivalry without any use of magic. The two faced each other wielding only their metal blades.

“I’ll yield the first move. Step forward.”
“Is that so?”
He did not refuse.
Ransell took a large leap forward. The landscape beneath his feet slid by smoothly.

“I see you!”
The knight stared at the rushing Ransell with wide eyes.
He raised his blade and slashed down directly, aiming to leave a wound on Ransell’s shoulder in a single strike.

“I have won!”
The moment he was sure of victory, Ransell’s body deftly avoided the blade. The sudden change in movement completely threw off the knight’s timing.
“...!”

The pommel attached to the sword’s end filled the knight’s view.
A dull impact hit him. His vision wavered, and his ears went numb. He realized he had collapsed on the ground only afterwards.
“If you lie down and rest for a day, you’ll be able to walk again.”

Ransell wiped the blood from the pommel with a handkerchief.
“Next.”
The atmosphere shifted.

The knights’ eyes watching Ransell had changed. Everyone could feel he was no mere talkative rookie.
“Walter Bailey.”
The next opponent stepped forward. A young man.

His motion raising the longsword was clean and without excess. Ransell murmured while stroking his chin, “Good stance.”
“You are all fine knights, Your Excellency Count. Seeing such men swear loyalty, my father would be envious.”
“Seems you still have time to praise your opponent.”
“Perhaps you should take it easy, Your Excellency.”
The young knight before him narrowed his eyes, perhaps offended by Ransell’s words.

“I’m coming, Sir Ransell.”
“Anytime.”
The young knight slowly and quietly approached and then vanished from sight in an instant.
“Hah!”

He lowered his stance swiftly, nearly touching the ground with his waist. The posture was reminiscent of a carnivorous beast.
Whoosh—!
His blade rose sharply from knee height, aiming precisely at Ransell’s center of mass.

“A good blade, but...”
With a smile, Ransell twisted his body. The blade missed him, and he rammed his shoulder into the young knight’s torso.
The knight’s weight shifted, and his body turned halfway before collapsing to the ground back-first. He had no chance to recover. A blade was already pointed at his neck.

“You lack experience. Seems you haven’t dueled much without magic.”
“...I admit defeat.”
“Train hard. With more practice, you’ll become a fine knight.”
“...”
Two knights defeated.
It had taken less than ten minutes.

Moreover, the previous fights were not true duels but closer to guided sparring. The skill difference was at least that between a master and a disciple.
The expressions of the knights gathered at the manor grew more serious.
“Jeffrey Lancaster. I won’t hold back.”
“Come. I want to finish before sunrise.”

Three exchanges of strikes and he fell.
“Gilbert. Show me what you’ve got.”
“Step forward first.”
Two blades clashed twice before one flew from the grip. Gilbert’s palm was soaked with blood.

“Arnold Duncan.”
“Big body. Let’s see if the sword is worth its size.”
He charged with a tremendous shout but went down with a single cut.
“William Ford.”

Knocked out by a blow to the temple with the side of a blade.
“Reiner Maximilian.”
Tackled and subdued by a leg sweep.

“Ragnar.”
Cut.
“Leopold Edgar! I will finish you!”

Cut, cut.
“Arthurway Doria!”
Cut, cut, cut.

.
.
.
“No!”
Marigold cried out, clutching her face.

Her heart raced anxiously watching the ongoing battle in the manor courtyard.
“No! No!”
One down.

Two down.
“No...?”
Three down.

Four down.
“...?”
“They’re all losing?”
Marigold stared at the knights helplessly falling before him with wide eyes.

To be honest, she wasn’t sure how skilled a knight he truly was. She just assumed a knight would be stronger than mercenaries.
But after five, then ten, then more than twenty knights fell one after another before him.
And finally, when the twenty-first opponent appeared before Ransell—

Kaaang!
The atmosphere of the fight changed.
.
.
.

“Let’s see how many are left.”
Ransell counted the remaining knights in the manor with his fingers. The dozens present at first had now been reduced to less than half.
Most had either fallen and gone for treatment or sat down recovering from the fight’s aftereffects.

“Seventeen remain.”
Ransell stretched his arms.
Only a few drops of sweat glistened on his face; he showed no signs of heavy breathing or fatigue. He looked like he had just finished warming up.

“Who’s next? Let’s get this over with quickly. Even the guards need to go to sleep.”
“One move, please. Chester...”
“That’s enough.”
As the next knight stepped forward, the Count of Runter spoke.
After a brief silence, he spoke again.

“Adelhardt.”
“Yes, Father.”
A man standing behind the knights strode forward. Ransell smirked slightly.
‘Finally, you come out.’

Seeing the familiar face brought a wave of delight.
‘Adelhardt Edric Runter... the Star Knight.’
How could one describe the empire at this time?

An era of court and romance?
The empire’s last golden age?
The calm before the warring states?
The peak of debauchery among island nobles?
No.
If a history book were to record this era long after, Ransell believed the title would be ‘The Age of Heroic Emergence.’

A time when countless geniuses who would become heroes were just becoming adults, breaking out of their shells, and hatching. Those with promise were learning sword and magic and beginning to make their names known to the world.
Adelhardt was one of them. One of the heroes who would shine in the upcoming wars.
Though branded a traitor because his blade was turned against the empire, from someone’s point of view he was nothing less than a hero. Why else would he be called the ‘Star Knight’?

Such praise followed the traitor for a reason. He was a knight so great even the enemy was captivated.
Having met him several times from the zero loop through the third, Ransell was thoroughly familiar with the face.
“Step forward.”
“Leave it to me, Father.”

Adelhardt’s eyes flashed sharply. It was as if the stars of the night sky were contained within them.
“Sir Ransell. I too have long recognized your prowess as a fine knight.”
Adelhardt drew his sword, shimmering silver. It was a long, thick longsword.

He stretched out his long arm and pointed the tip at Ransell.
“Still, I don’t think I will lose.”
“Confidence is good. Come.”
“Very well.”
The Star Knight stepped forward.

“Here I come.”
A thud. From the tip of his foot stamping the ground burst condensed power.
His arm, shoulder, waist, and heel rotated simultaneously as the blade flew straight across horizontally.

The issue was the speed.
The blade swung with a force far beyond human limits. It seemed as if it could slice Ransell’s upper body in two.
Thud—!

Adelhardt’s strike slammed directly into Ransell’s sword hilt.
Kaaang!
The loud clang echoed in the ears. Sparks flew, lighting the night air.

‘As expected of a genius!’
Ransell smiled. He felt a rush of joy meeting a truly genuine knight after a long time.