Duel #4: The First Victory That Stung
Pow!
“Kyaaaaah!”
The sound that rang out wasn’t just a muffled cry—it was the raw, unfiltered shriek of a pig being slaughtered. Or at least that’s how it landed in my ears, right before the jolt shot straight up my arm.
It was the first time I’d ever swung a sword and actually connected properly. Not quite a clean cut—more like I’d grazed a paper-thin margin—but the impact still thumped through my palm and into my bones.
I’d been aiming for the torso, maybe the shoulder. Instead my body had betrayed me at the last second and taken the hit. If I’d been even half a heartbeat slower, it would have been nothing but a glancing blow. If I’d been faster, I might have pulled away or counter-attacked. But no. My fist had connected dead-center.
“Damn it!”
Profanities flew from Forbes’ lips as he stumbled backward, clutching his arm. The duel was already over. The moment had to be.
I’d quietly watched the entire time from the sidelines, and now Professor Eidran stepped between us, voice calm and measured.
“Enough. The match ends here. The winner is first-year Lucian Theodore von Deodore.”
“W-what?! That can’t be right! Why are you deciding the winner right now, Professor?! I refuse to accept this! I can still fight!”
“Where is the sword you’re supposed to swing, Mr. von Deodore?”
“It… it’s right here—”
Professor Eidran’s words hit Forbes like a hammer. He ground his teeth so hard I heard the click.
The instant my fist landed on his arm, the man had dropped his weapon. As a swordsman, losing his sword was losing his life. And right now that life was being ground under my boot.
Crack.
The sound of his teeth grinding echoed in the sudden silence. The loser’s frustration was written all over his face in unmistakable waves.
But rules were rules. The fundamental tenet of any duel was simple: when both sides have disarmed each other, the fight continues only while both still have the will to keep going. Once one side has lost his weapon and the other has seized it, there’s nothing left to argue.
“No objections accepted. The winner of this duel is first-year Lucian Theodore von Deodore. If you wish to protest, I advise you, Mr. Forbes, to seek out your own mentors—yours clearly require more work.”
“I can still fight! Without a sword I’m plenty capable! Lucian, are you really going to shield this Literature Division brat just because he’s one?!”
Oh. He crossed the line. I’d been waiting for exactly this reaction, and the sight of it made my chest warm in a way I couldn’t quite name.
It was an open secret at the academy that the Literary and Martial Divisions rarely mixed. Yet here was this overconfident second-year practically spitting on the tradition in front of a professor. It was almost poetic.
And the fact that he’d forgotten basic etiquette the moment he realized he’d lost only made it sweeter.
“Enough, Forbes. Anything more and this fight will only tarnish your own honor.”
Professor Eidran’s warning cut through the air. Forbes bit his lip until it bled, swallowing every curse and insult with visible effort.
That was the cue. I bent down, picked up the fallen sword, and walked straight to him, offering it hilt-first with a smile that probably looked far too smug.
“This was a truly enlightening duel, Senior Forbes. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“I-I… this… I…”
I let the sarcasm drip from every syllable. The man’s face twisted in a mixture of fury and humiliation. For the audience it might have looked elegant. For Forbes it was pure, slow torture.
It wasn’t contempt; it was respect delivered in the most painful way possible. And I had never been good at subtlety.
After the life I’d lived in my previous world, this was nothing. Forbes trembled, fists clenched, eyes darting like a cornered animal. I almost expected him to scream “I can still fight!” in the classic villain style. Instead he just stood there, defeated and silent.
Among the witnesses, only one mattered. Rie was smiling at me like I’d hung the moon.
I turned to Professor Eidran next.
“Thank you, Professor Eidran.”
“You worked hard, Lucian. More than I expected.”
“After everything at the academy—under such brilliant instructors—it feels like even I’ve grown a little. Minerva Academy, and the professors who train here, are truly exceptional.”
It was the kind of understated praise that made people smile. Eidran nodded once, eyes softening for half a second before he turned away to let the students disperse.
The handful of spectators left in the stands would spread the word. A second-year Martial Division student had been beaten by a first-year Literature Division prodigy who somehow wielded a sword like a monster. No one would forget that.
“Lucian.”
That voice—soft, warm, and impossibly sweet—cut straight through the fading echoes. Rie was standing just outside the arena, two boxes of hot chocolate and chocolate balanced in her arms. She couldn’t quite hide the joy radiating off her, but she was pretending for the others’ sake.
She didn’t say a word. She simply held the boxes out to me.
It was our private signal. The one that said, This is only ours. My heart did something ridiculous. I snatched the hot chocolate and took a long, guilty sip. God, it was so sweet it hurt.
One by one the dueling participants filed out. Forbes’ supporters looked stunned. Forbes himself still stood frozen in the center of the arena, arm throbbing, teeth clenched.
Eventually he forced himself to rise and followed us out, shoulders slumped. Rie’s friends and mine fell into step around us, and for a while we moved in quiet silence—until only first-years remained.
“Lucian!!”
Someone let out a triumphant yell. Then another. Then a chorus. “We did it! Lucian beat Forbes!”
“Hey! What the hell?! The guy who couldn’t even touch us suddenly beat a senior?! Did we suddenly become unworthy?!”
“Or maybe we were never worth fighting in the first place? Should’ve challenged him sooner, Lucian!”
The crowd rushed forward, hands reaching, voices overlapping in a dizzying wave. If Rie hadn’t stepped in with that calm “Everyone, ease up,” we might have been mobbed. She laughed softly, coughing once to clear her throat.
“There are a few things I noticed while watching the match that need fixing. Would it be alright if I borrowed Lucian for a bit? If I don’t say anything now, he’ll lose out.”
Some of the friends shot each other knowing glances. Others looked genuinely concerned.
Rie was already famous among the Martial Division as an overworked training maniac. The fact that she and I had been seen together so often—despite the rumors—had saved us from a dozen jealous whispers. Now the same eyes that had once looked at me with suspicion were filled with pity. Poor Lucian. He can’t even finish training without Rie dragging him away.
She must have decided I’d suffered enough. She slipped her hand into mine and tugged me toward the old training grounds we always used. I tried to keep a straight face, but the grin kept fighting its way onto my lips.
She was running ahead, pulling me along, and I realized—while she’d never once slowed down during our duel—her heart had been beating a calm, steady rhythm. Here, now, it was racing so hard I could feel it through her fingers.
Finally we reached our usual spot. Just the two of us. The moment her grip loosened, she spun, wrapped her arms around my neck, and rose onto her toes to press her lips to mine.
“…”
The sweetness hit me like a second wave of chocolate—hers, the drink, or maybe just the faint scent of her hair against my cheek. I could have stayed there forever.
“You were incredible, Lucian.”
“Huh… yeah…”
“I was nervous the whole time, but then… I knew. I knew you won.”
“Of course I won. I trained with the best. I had to prove the price was worth it.”
“Thank you. For fighting so hard for me.”
She pulled back just enough to lean in again, pressing her warm, soft lips to mine with a sigh that made my head spin. I wrapped my arms around her without thinking, stroking her hair, letting the warmth of her seep into every tired muscle.
“Now the picture I wanted is finally here.”
The kiss lingered for a moment before I spoke. She pulled away to look at me, eyes sparkling.
“I beat a second-year senior. A Martial Division senior. Even if it was Forbes, he still had the pride of his division. In the end… I must have real talent after all. And you noticed it and helped me. We grew together.”
“It became a rival relationship that actually pushed us both forward.”
“I never asked for it, but I’m glad it happened.”
“Me too.”
“Anyway… I just realized something.”
Rie suddenly tensed, a thought clearly hitting her. I already guessed what was coming, but I stayed silent. We’d learned the hard way that some things were better left unsaid for a moment.
“Do you think Forbes will really accept it and walk away?”
“No way.”
“Right?”
“He’ll probably say something like, ‘When and where do the conditions come? You’re my fiancée, so stop clinging, don’t be rude.’ He’ll make some excuse. He never actually promised not to harass you after the loss. So…”
Rie let out a long, defeated sigh.
I glanced sideways at the angel in her and saw her lip push out in a pout.
“I contacted my family. They’re staying silent.”
“You did receive my letters, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. But they still won’t answer. There’s something going on. The reason they can’t reply… and why Forbes refuses to accept me as his fiancée…”
“They’ll back down.”
“What…?”
“I’m calling off the engagement.”
“…Huh?”
“I’m ending the engagement with you. Whether he wants to or not, he has no choice.”
“That’s…”
“I got the letter.”
Yes. The letter had arrived. From the most majestic person in Lebechia.
Or rather, the one who was still majestic right now.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
Anger clawed up his throat until he thought he’d choke. Defeat tasted like ash. He’d lost. He’d dropped his sword. The sword had ended up in Lucian’s hand. Rules were rules. Even a noble like Forbes couldn’t argue with that.
Just thinking of Lucian’s smug face made him want to tear his hair out. And then there was Rie, smiling beside him like she hadn’t just watched her own fiancé get humiliated.
Nothing he could do. The loser’s only right was silence.
But if he couldn’t strike back at Lucian, he could still use the one weapon left—his family.
That was when the idea crystallized. If he could make Lucian’s own fiancée back down, the brat would finally understand what real power felt like.
So Forbes sat down and wrote to the Clement family.
When exactly will the engagement end?
You said it was almost finished last time. Why is it still dragging on?
The next day the letter arrived.
“H-huh? Wh-what…?”