The Unfair Duel
The vast training ground was far too spacious to have been constructed solely for sparring. In that space, packed wall-to-wall with people—
“……”
Silence descended. So many spectators filled the stands that counting them individually would have taken considerable time, yet every single one of them had fallen utterly silent. Their expressions were identical: shock, no—something beyond shock. Horror. They stared at the training ground with eyes stretched wide and mouths hanging open, as though they could not believe what they were seeing.
And at the center of their collective gaze stood two young men.
…Or rather, “stood” was not quite accurate. One youth remained on his own two feet, while the other had been driven into the wall against his will. Then—
Thud—
The youth embedded in the wall lost his balance and collapsed onto the training ground floor.
“……”
The spectators continued to watch in unbroken silence. The sight was simply too unbelievable. It shattered every expectation—crushed them utterly.
How long did that silence last?
“…What…”
Someone finally managed to speak, and then—
“W-what the hell is this…?!”
“That’s impossible…!!”
As if that had been the trigger, the crowd that had maintained perfect silence erupted into chaos. No one could accept the scene before their eyes. Some even wondered whether they were hallucinating. It was only natural. No one could have predicted this outcome.
The duel between Kyle Berwen and Sebastian Ebenros.
From the very beginning, the result had seemed predetermined. Because there were no restrictions on equipment, the disparity between the two had been overwhelming. Sebastian, clad in artifacts counted among the finest in the Empire—nay, the entire continent—versus Kyle, who had stepped onto the training ground with nothing but an ordinary sword. There had been no need to even watch the match. No matter how superior Kyle’s skill might be, the gap in equipment was insurmountable.
Everyone had expected Sebastian’s victory, and at first the duel had unfolded exactly as predicted. Sebastian immediately deployed a barrier. A triple-layered shield forged from mana amplified to monstrous levels by his artifacts. An ordinary attack could never hope to pierce it. At that moment, the outcome had seemed decided. Kyle could never break through that barrier.
Everyone thought the duel was already over. They believed Kyle’s sword swings against the barrier were nothing more than pathetic flailing. But they were wrong.
The sword that should have been repelled without even scratching a single layer instead shattered all three barriers in a single strike. Even that alone should have left the spectators’ jaws on the floor, yet no one had reacted at the time. There had been no opportunity. Kyle, having broken every expectation by destroying the barriers, closed the distance in an instant and sent Sebastian flying with a second swing. The defensive magic stored within the artifacts activated, only to shatter immediately. Sebastian’s body slammed helplessly into the training ground wall.
And finally, Sebastian collapsed to the floor.
No one had checked his condition, yet everyone knew. Sebastian had lost consciousness. The match was over. With only two swings of the sword—mere two strikes—the duel had ended. Even though his opponent had been wearing the Ebenros family head’s personal artifact.
It made no sense. No, it was so far beyond sense that the word itself felt inadequate.
No one could accept such a result immediately. It was only natural that every spectator stood frozen, staring blankly at the training ground. But—
“……”
The very person who had created this impossible outcome, Kyle Berwen, remained perfectly calm. His face was as serene as it had been before the duel began. He glanced at the fallen Sebastian, then—
Shing—
Click.
—sheathed his sword. Turning his head, he looked at the professor acting as referee.
“Aren’t you going to announce the result?”
At that utterly ordinary tone, the dazed professor finally snapped back to his senses.
“…Ah, r-right… I-I should.”
With a voice far too unsteady for someone in his position, the professor forced his body to move. He approached Sebastian with stiff, awkward steps, checked his condition, then looked up and shouted.
“Th-the winner is Kyle Berwen…!”
Thus ended the duel that had thrown the entire Academy into uproar.
“Th-the winner is Kyle Berwen…!”
Hearing the professor’s voice, I thought—
‘…That hurts.’
More than I had expected. On the surface I maintained a calm facade, but the reality was different. I was not in a comfortable state. Mentally, perhaps I could claim composure, but physically I had none to spare. To put it simply, my body was in poor condition.
The reason was simple. I had pushed myself too hard. I had anticipated that Sebastian would bring out powerful equipment—that was why I had accepted his condition in the first place. But—
‘I never thought he would actually bring that.’
I had known from the start that Sebastian was serious. Otherwise he would never have proposed this duel. So I had expected him to bring something truly formidable. Still, I had not imagined he would produce the family head’s personal artifact.
‘He must have wanted to win quite badly.’
Even if he was the confirmed next head of the Ebenros family, obtaining that item could not have been easy. The phrase “family head’s personal” was not there for decoration. Even someone guaranteed to inherit the position was not yet the head. For him to bring out the head’s exclusive artifact required considerable effort. It was clear proof of how desperately Sebastian had wanted victory.
Yet I was not shocked. Two reasons. First, some part of me had half-expected it. Given Sebastian’s meticulous nature, it was possible he might resort to that artifact. Second—
‘It didn’t matter anyway.’
Because I had been confident I could win no matter what he brought. When it came to preparing for the future, I was never the optimistic type. No matter how much I trusted my own skill, I would never make the foolish mistake of overestimating myself and ignoring variables. The moment Sebastian agreed to the duel, I had already begun accounting for every possible variable and preparing countermeasures—measures that would guarantee my victory regardless of what Sebastian did.
Dragon’s Blood.
Despite the name, it was not actual dragon blood. It was a refined potion made from the blood of sub-dragons. True dragons existed only in legend, while sub-dragons were lesser beings that could not even match a dragon’s degraded form. That did not mean sub-dragons were ordinary beasts, however. As creatures of the dragon lineage, they possessed power far beyond normal lifeforms.
Dragon’s Blood was a potion created by collecting and refining the blood of such sub-dragons. Its effects were simple: amplification of mana and physical strength. Simple, yet immensely powerful. For a warrior, those two attributes alone were more than sufficient. Yet despite its appeal, Dragon’s Blood was rarely produced. The manufacturing method was not widely known, and sub-dragons themselves were scarce, but there was an even more fundamental reason.
Dragon’s Blood damaged the body. Not because it was poisonous, but because its effects were simply too potent. Naturally, the body could not withstand power that had grown without proper progression. Muscles, bones, and mana channels would break under the sudden surge of strength and mana. That was why Dragon’s Blood was precious. And I knew how to obtain it—through my knowledge of the game.
After accepting the duel, I moved immediately and secured the Dragon’s Blood. I consumed it just before the match began. Anyone who knew about Dragon’s Blood would have been horrified, but I paid it no mind. I had been confident—confident that I could perfectly control and handle it. In reality, I wielded the massively amplified mana and strength exactly as I wished and crushed Sebastian with ease. My body paid the price, but even that had been within my calculations. Because I had perfectly regulated the potion’s effects, the damage I suffered was less than what should have occurred. My insides were still injured, but it was nothing a period of rest could not heal.
…Honestly, I had not needed to go this far. Even without Dragon’s Blood, I could have defeated Sebastian. It simply would have taken longer, and the victory would not have been so overwhelmingly one-sided. That was not the outcome I wanted. I had wanted to crush Sebastian completely.
Why? There were several reasons, but the most important was revenge. Sebastian had been the one to start this fight. He had joined forces with Ernen to try and expel me from the Academy. Thanks to Bellard and Lana I had escaped their trap, but that did not erase the fact that they had drawn their blades against me. And then, without a hint of remorse, he had appeared and told me to stay away from Lana if I had any conscience. There was no way my feelings toward him could be pleasant. So I had deliberately accepted his challenge—and the clause removing all equipment restrictions. All to steer everyone’s perception in the direction I desired. To make them believe Sebastian’s victory was inevitable.
And indeed, events had unfolded exactly as I planned. Everyone had become convinced of Sebastian’s triumph. Yet Sebastian lost. Overwhelmingly. Now Sebastian Ebenros would be remembered as the man who suffered a crushing defeat despite holding an absurd advantage. His reputation was too good for this alone to destroy it completely, but there would undoubtedly be whispers. People would question his abilities. With a little behind-the-scenes work, those baseless rumors would spread throughout the Empire and erode his standing. Whether it would succeed completely was uncertain, but one thing was clear: Sebastian’s evaluation would decline. For that purpose, I had even consumed Dragon’s Blood and pushed myself.
‘Well, this much is fine.’
I had pushed myself, true, but my condition was not as severe as it had been after the duel with Jerim. I had perfectly controlled the potion’s effects, and more importantly, my body was in an entirely different state than back then. Feeling grateful once again to Lana and Julia, I turned my head. And met his eyes.
Ernen, staring at me with trembling eyes. I looked straight into his gaze, a mixture of horror and rage, and smiled.
Then, without the slightest hesitation, I turned and descended from the training ground.