Do Not Interfere with the Duel (4)
Sam Tomlinson, acting as referee, strode out to the center of the training ground, with Prince Aaron in the role of observer and Professor Daisy following close behind.
At the prince’s appearance, every spectator rose from their seats and offered their respects.
Prince Aaron then personally explained the revised rules of the duel.
Just as Chloe had said, the crowd looked as though they had come to watch some kind of fighting tournament.
In truth it was nothing of the sort, so without further ceremony Roy’s turn arrived at once.
The two boys who were to fight stepped forward into full view of everyone present.
Referee Instructor Sam spoke.
“As you have sworn before the gods, any act that would take your opponent’s life is strictly forbidden in this duel.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Of course.”
“Good. Then, under the gaze of the Sun God, swear upon your family names that you will commit no cowardly act.”
“I, James Biswald, swear upon my family name to decide a fair contest in this place.”
“I, Roy Greenhilt, also swear upon my family name to decide a fair contest.”
“Excellent! Begin!”
—Waaaaaah!!
With a thunderous roar from the spectators, the duel between the two boys finally began.
Roy had clear goals for this duel.
First, the renown that would come from crushing an opponent far beyond the reach of a mere baronial house—someone of margrave blood. With that fame he would uproot the harassment and interference of the surrounding children who had been making his life difficult.
Second, he intended to use that same renown as the foundation for drawing a far wider range of talented people into his own faction.
To achieve both, he needed to leave a lasting impression right here.
The stage was set.
Now it was time to perform.
With this many eyes watching, I can’t just end it with a single bland strike.
For the audience that had gone to the trouble of coming all this way, he ought to put on a proper show.
Waiting around is a pain, so I’ll go first.
It began with swords.
The moment the sword contest started, displaying magic became awkward for both of them.
Magic, after all, demanded intense concentration before a spell could even be formed.
“Hah!”
Clang—!
James’s swordsmanship was extremely refined.
At seven years old Roy had been defeated in an instant and remembered almost nothing of it, yet the James before him now was every bit as skilled as Daniel had once been.
At this age a two-year gap usually meant a difference of heaven and earth.
Even Roy could not hope to match him in pure physical strength.
—Clang!
A heavy blow.
Real steel, not wooden practice swords, rang out with a metallic crash.
Roy did not meet force with force; instead he deftly deflected his opponent’s blade.
It was not identical, but James’s ferocious charges were reminiscent of Daniel’s, and blocking every one of them was impossible.
So Roy loosened the power in his wrist, letting some of the force slide past while catching only part of it.
“Weren’t you supposed to be a magic specialist?”
“I’ve been practicing a bit myself.”
They pulled apart for a brief lull.
The surprised one was James.
The childhood memory of crushing Roy in swordplay still burned vivid in his mind, so when Roy casually toyed with the blade, open shock spread across James’s face.
“Stop testing the waters and come at me seriously. Lose again and it’ll be a real public disgrace.”
“You little bastard!”
James’s strikes grew even more ferocious.
It was a superb assault with no obvious openings.
Whoever his teacher had been, the man had clearly taught him well.
Yet Roy avoided it all with ease.
James’s sword relied on raw power and was far too straightforward.
To someone like Roy, who specialized in counter-based swordplay, that made him the perfect prey.
Because the blade always came at the exact right timing and to the exact right place, reading the counter-timing was almost too easy.
“Hah!”
Swish—!
The swords grazed past each other by a hair’s breadth.
The tip of Roy’s blade lightly sliced the cuff of James’s sleeve.
The spectators’ chatter died in an instant.
Cries of astonishment erupted from every direction.
“That’s right… House Greenhilt always specialized in the sword, didn’t they?”
“Ah, I remember. It was the same in my day.”
A few voices of understanding rose, but most of the crowd simply looked stunned.
Especially among the third-years: when their elite, James, began to lose ground against a brand-new first-year from a lowly baronial house, a small uproar broke out among his classmates.
“No way…”
“No. It can’t be. Lord James, against some baron’s first-year…”
“Please tell me this is a joke!”
“Everyone just shut up and watch! The real magic contest hasn’t even started yet.”
Whatever the audience was shouting, none of it reached the two boys locked in combat.
They were completely immersed in each other.
“I told you. Give it everything you’ve got.”
“This bastard won’t shut up… Am I your friend or something?!”
White light surged along the furious James’s blade.
Aura Blade.
It was not his true specialty—magic was—but pure effort had brought him to this level.
He had mana to spare, after all.
Once you knew the knack, it was not particularly difficult.
“If you don’t drop to your knees and surrender this instant, I will make certain to sever one of your limbs.”
Screams rang out here and there.
Sneers about foul play mixed in as well.
An Aura Blade was an advanced technique that required both vast mana and a certain level of sword mastery.
Its power needed no further explanation.
Ordinarily it was not something one would ever use against a mere baronial child.
Yet the people understood.
They had just watched James being clearly outmatched in ordinary swordplay.
Better to secure an unconditional victory with overwhelming mana than to lose outright.
If people were going to call him dishonorable either way, he might as well take the practical prize.
Honor could always be reclaimed later.
Roy’s underhanded methods would soon become common knowledge anyway.
This arrogant little punk. I’ll teach him a lesson.
But the crowd’s astonishment only deepened a moment later.
“H-how is that possible…”
“A baron’s child?”
“The rumors about him being a mutant must have been true.”
“H-how can that boy be using an Aura Blade?”
The sword in Roy’s hand, too, blazed with the light of aura.
It was an ordinary blade with no enchantments—the sword engraved with the Greenhilt crest that the baron had given him to commemorate his entrance into the Knight Academy.
No sinister mana, only the pure white radiance of an Aura Blade, wrapped the steel.
James froze mid-duel, mouth hanging open.
Referee Sam and the watching prince wore similar expressions.
Hmm. Just as I planned—and not a bad bit of theater either.
Roy looked over the crowd’s reactions with deep satisfaction.
By now a great many people would have realized that his mana far surpassed the level of any baronial house.
“What’s wrong? Scared?”
“You little—!”
James fell for the taunt with almost comical ease.
The blade he swung in his excitement was painfully predictable, and of course it became nothing more than bait for Roy’s counters.
Yet Roy deliberately avoided clean hits.
Rip— rip— Each time Roy’s sword brushed past, James’s clothes tore in ragged strips.
In a few places the steel must have drawn blood; crimson began to stain the fabric.
“One piece of advice, James? Surrender now while you still can. Otherwise you’ll only end up making a complete fool of yourself in front of this huge audience.”
“……”
“Or do you want to keep going?”
“Don’t make me laugh. You haven’t even seen my real strength yet.”
In truth James’s swordsmanship only looked impressive to ordinary people or young students; veterans would have called it mediocre.
He had succeeded in forming an Aura Blade with mana and possessed a powerful body that let him wield a heavy style, but that was all.
When it came to the fine control of mana that allowed free mastery of the body, he was still far from adequate.
James himself was well aware of the shortcoming.
He simply did not take it seriously.
He was, first and last, a mage.
Born with talent as a mage, he genuinely loved researching magic.
In other words, his true strength only shone when he unleashed spells.
Suddenly James sheathed his sword.
“What, giving up already?”
“No. Now I’ll show you the real thing.”
“…?”
Roy did not press the attack; he simply stood and watched to see what James intended.
Don’t tell me he’s planning to chant a spell right here? Does he think I’ll just stand around and watch?
He was wrong.
James uttered only a single short word.
“Come forth, Prominence!”
What answered the summons was none other than a spirit—the high-ranking fire spirit Prominence.
“You called, Master.”
The flame spirit took a roughly human shape, its entire body blazing red; it spoke quite well and looked like a rather high-maintenance entity.
Sure enough, James immediately drew a small rod from his belt and gripped it.
Unlike Roy’s wand, it was a short, slender stick-type magic staff.
“Kyaa—! There it is at last! Lord James’s spirit!”
“So cool, Prominence!”
“This match is over. Once he brings that thing out, there’s nothing more to see.”
James’s classmates made a noisy racket.
Matching their excitement, James issued an arrogant command to the spirit.
“Burn him!”
He pointed the stick at Roy. Prominence swept both arms upward from below.
In that instant flame erupted as though exploding, racing from right in front of the spirit all the way to the ground where Roy stood.
Fire simply burst straight up from the bare earth.
Roy threw himself sideways in a desperate roll and barely cleared the blaze.
Damn it! Instant cast with no chant at all?!
He had nearly been roasted alive.
Apparently James paid a massive mana price so the spirit could cast magic in his place.
Roy immediately pulled the goggles hanging around his neck up over his eyes.
If magic kept flying without any preparatory chant, dealing with it would be nearly impossible.
At the very least he wanted to read the flow of mana with his Golden Eyes.
In pupils dyed gold, the currents of mana became visible.
James’s mana could not compare to Daniel’s, yet it was more than enough next to the children of marquis houses.
Roy watched that vast reservoir streaming rapidly into the spirit.
Whenever the volume of flowing mana spiked, the fire spirit activated a spell without fail.
Because the chant was omitted, the flames appeared instantly; all Roy could do for now was desperately dodge them.
So this is his trump card? At this rate I’ll have no choice but to use mine as well…
Rapid Arthema.
Without amplifying his spell-calculation speed through Noah’s power, all he could do was keep running.
Charging in with a sword would only get him burned to death, and he had no way to counter magic that activated instantly.
No choice, then. Still, he used a spirit, so we’re even.
Roy summoned Noah at once.
Then he activated Rapid Arthema.
“I’ll start with fire—just like you!”
The spell completed in an instant. A massive fireball appeared out of nowhere and hurtled straight toward James.