Chapter 166: I Should Get a Bit Serious (2)
Chapter 166: I Should Get a Bit Serious (2)
The day of the duel arrived.
Count Spike’s training ground was swarming with people who had gathered to witness the public challenge. Usually large enough for an entire company of soldiers to drill in, the grounds were now so packed that there was hardly any room to move.
True to his word to Patrick, Count Spike had opened the gates to the public.
“Do not cross the line!”
“Anyone causing a disturbance will be detained! Maintain order!”
The Count’s knights surrounded the perimeter of the training ground, struggling to control the surging crowd of citizens. Amidst the tense atmosphere, the people whispered among themselves.
“He’ll win, right?”
“I really hope he does.”
“If he wins, I’ll have nothing left to wish for.”
“Please, let him win…”
Their sentences were missing a subject. With the Count’s knights glaring at them from just a few feet away, they couldn't dare speak their true thoughts aloud.
However, the meaning was clear enough. They hoped that this young hero, Patrick Schneider, would provide some release from the years of exploitation and oppression they had suffered under Count Spike’s rule. They had come to watch this duel with a single, shared heart.
Even if Patrick defeated Count Spike, nothing would fundamentally change. They knew this. It was impossible to reclaim their lost nation, and they would still bear the stigma of being from a defeated country, suffering under harsh tyranny.
But still…
Even so…
Please… please win.
Let us see it, just once.
We believe in you, Double Dragon.
People need hope to survive. Just like these people did now.
And under the weight of all those gazes, the two combatants finally made their appearance.
*
Patrick Schneider.
Calvin Spike.
Two titans who had reached the Supreme Realm stood facing each other to determine who was superior. Count Spike was the first to speak.
“I trust you’ve been well?”
“Oh, the people in this territory are so generous that I’ve been eating well and relaxing quite comfortably,” Patrick replied.
“……”
Count Spike bit his lip at Patrick’s words. He wasn't so dense that he didn't realize what it meant for his own subjects to have treated Patrick—the man set to duel their lord—so well.
He ground his teeth and spoke. “I will admit that a small nation managed to produce a talent.”
“Hmmm…”
“But you don't know your place. No matter how young you are, there’s a limit to ignorance.”
Count Spike shook his head slowly. He looked down at Patrick with a solemn, dignified expression.
“This is a good opportunity. I shall make you realize the fundamental difference between your kind and ours.”
“Good grief…”
Patrick let out a short sigh. “I’m not usually one for chatting before I start swinging, but let me ask you one thing.”
“What is it?”
“Your soldiers and knights were the same way, but is everyone in this country like this?”
“What are you talking about?”
“This stupid habit of judging people based on their nationality, calling them ‘small nations’ and whatnot.”
“I am merely stating a self-evident fact.”
“Ah. I see. You really do think that way. Got it.”
“You four Eastern Kingdoms are the weakest nations on the continent.”
“Huuuh…”
“You only exist to function as a breakwater against the Great Forest. If we truly put our minds to it…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it perfectly well.”
“……”
“Let’s stop with the pleasantries and get to the part where we curse each other out and swing some steel.”
Patrick stepped back, widening the distance between them. Count Spike’s face contorted as he watched him.
“Arrogant brat.”
The difference in national power he mentioned was an undeniable fact. Even at the same 7-Star level, a master in the four Eastern Kingdoms would start with the rank of Marquis, whereas here in the Caesar Kingdom, even a 7-Star like himself was only a Count.
The caliber of the pond was simply different. To think the boy would react like this after having that pointed out…
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Originally, he had planned to send the boy back after cutting off an arm. But now…
“I’m going to kill you.”
A chilling killing intent bled out along with the Count’s resolve. Patrick simply smirked.
“Give it a shot.”
The two of them drew their weapons and took their stances. Count Spike pulled out a massive battle axe and held it diagonally in front of him. Opposite him, Patrick held a twin sword in each hand, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“……”
“……”
Gulp.
The silence was so heavy and still that the sound of someone swallowing could be heard. Within that void, the two men stared each other down, as if trying to pin the other in place with their gaze alone.
Count Spike was calculating his move.
The boy’s strength is his speed. It’s disadvantageous for me to move first.
He tensed his entire body, ready to react to Patrick’s slightest movement, aiming for a counter-attack after a solid defense. But then…
Whoosh!
A gust of wind blew from somewhere, carrying a few fallen leaves. One of them fluttered directly across Count Spike’s line of sight.
It was a fleeting moment—less than a tenth of a second.
But the moment the leaf passed…
Huh?
Patrick had vanished from Count Spike’s vision. And then…
“Over here.”
A voice came from behind him.
In that instant, the Count spun around, swinging his battle axe with every ounce of speed he could muster. But…
BOOM!
Before he could finish the swing, Patrick’s attack slammed into his back. He didn't even know what had hit him or how. But the moment the blow landed, a terrifying shock surged through him, making him feel as if his spine were about to snap.
“Gah!”
Count Spike was sent flying forward. He tumbled across the ground several times before scrambling back to his feet and leveling his weapon. But there was no one there. Instead…
“Have another one.”
The voice came from behind him again. Simultaneously, another impact exploded against his back.
CRASH!
“Kugh!”
Having been hit by the same attack twice, Count Spike coughed up blood as he rolled across the dirt.
Dammit.
He scrambled up frantically after tumbling again, swinging his battle axe savagely in a blind arc.
“Aaaaagh!”
Boom! Boom! Crash!
A violent whirlwind of Aura Blades swept through his entire surroundings—front, back, left, and right. It was a preemptive, defensive strike meant to prevent a third ambush. Everything within a two-meter radius of him was instantly pulverized.
However, he felt no resistance against his blade. And then…
“What are you doing?”
“……”
This time, Patrick hadn't attacked. He was simply standing a good distance away, looking at the Count with a pathetic expression. Patrick shook his head, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“Look before you swing. Use your eyes.”
“Grrr…”
Count Spike’s face turned bright red. He had been so terrified of an attack that hadn't even come that he’d swung his weapon like a madman. Wasn't this exactly how a novice looked when sparring with someone far above their level?
The realization that he, a master of the Supreme Realm, had shown such a pathetic display filled him with an uncontrollable sense of shame. That shame, unable to be suppressed, soon turned into an explosion of rage.
“PATRICK SCHNEIDER!”
Watching Count Spike charge at him while erupting with the maximum output of his Aura Blade, Patrick spoke nonchalantly.
“Come on then.”
The clash followed. Patrick began to meet Count Spike’s attacks head-on.
Clang! Boom! Crash!
The roar was deafening, the vibrations of the air and the shards of shattered Aura Blades stinging the skin. Two superhumans clashed fiercely in a lethal exchange where a single mistake meant death.
“Oh… Ohhh…”
“So that’s the 7-Star… the Supreme Realm.”
“They’re monsters.”
Those who had never seen a duel between 7-Star masters watched in a daze, filled with shock, admiration, and fear. Even the knights and soldiers who were supposed to be managing the crowd couldn't help but turn their heads to stare at the fight.
Is that… is that really a human?
To have that much destructive power in a mere duel…
Even for a knight, opportunities to witness the 7-Star realm were rare. It was even rarer to see a 7-Star knight fighting at full strength. They couldn't take their eyes off the clash of masters, a sight they might only see once in a lifetime.
“Ugh…”
Because of the explosions of aura and the rising clouds of dust, those watching from afar couldn't see the details of the exchange. However, the two men facing each other felt clearly who held the upper hand.
At first, Count Spike was on the offensive while Patrick was on the defensive. But as time passed, the tide shifted. Patrick’s twin swords grew increasingly faster, thrusting unavoidable strikes into the gaps of Count Spike’s attacks. Spike, whose transitions between offense and defense were relatively slower, began to flounder.
“You… you little brat…”
“Huh? Who are you calling a brat, you little shit?”
Patrick’s brow furrowed, and the sword in his left hand vanished completely from Count Spike’s sight. Immediately after, a dull thud rang out.
WHACK!
“Gah!”
Patrick had struck Count Spike across the head with the flat of his blade. He had suppressed his aura and used the side of the sword, but it was more than enough to make the Count’s massive frame stagger violently to the left.
“Dammit…”
Gritting his teeth, the staggering Count Spike regained his stance. And then…
“AAAAAAAGH!”
He swung his weapon so fast it felt like his arms might fly off. The sight was less ferocious and more like a desperate struggle—like a cornered beast lashing out blindly with its claws.
Naturally, Patrick wasn't the type to be grazed by such a thing. He simply shifted his feet a few times, and with that alone, all of Count Spike’s desperate swings cut through nothing but air.
This monster.
He had no choice but to admit it now. The boy was strong. If Patrick had wanted to kill him, he could have done so already. Yet, Count Spike was still alive. Because…
“Are you playing with me?”
It was the only conclusion he could reach. Patrick continued to weave his swords as he spoke.
“Yeah. I’m playing with you.”
“……”
When he admitted it so readily, the Count found himself speechless. To the dazed and bewildered Count Spike, Patrick said, “So what? You got a problem with it, you weakling?”
“You damn brat from a tiny nation… Huk!”
In an instant, Patrick’s swords vanished again. This time, both of them. And immediately after…
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!!
Impacts rained down across his entire body without mercy. He couldn't even remember how many times he’d been hit.
“Ugh…”
As Count Spike wobbled from the shock but refused to fall, Patrick spoke to him.
“Remember this well, you brat. Whether it’s a small nation or a great empire, that doesn't do a damn thing to improve your skills.”
“…You…”
“If you don't realize that and keep acting tough against someone stronger than you, you’re just going to end up dead.”
Patrick had seen this countless times in the Jianghu of his past life. The Radiant Dragon Hero Jincheon had entered the ranks of the strong, a realm far beyond ordinary young experts, before he even reached the age of thirty.
However, the so-called "young experts" of his age from prestigious orthodox sects were too ignorant to know their place. They thought they were on the same level as the Radiant Dragon Hero. Some even acted as if they were superior.
Why? Because their sects were much larger, and their masters were much more famous. There were so many who mistook the glory of their background for their own strength, only to meet a miserable end while trying to imitate Jincheon. They would challenge the leaders of the Unorthodox Faction or recklessly hunt for the heads of the Ten Great Evils. They deluded themselves into thinking that since Jincheon, who was their age, could do it, they could too.
And the harsh world of the Jianghu collected the lives of those foolish children as payment for their recklessness.
“At least those kids were just immature.”
“What…?”
“You’re old enough to know better, and you hold a position of social responsibility, yet you’re pulling this shit?”
“I’m telling you, what on earth are you talking about…?”
“You still don't get it?”
“……”
“I’m saying you’re a dumbass, you hopeless piece of shit.”
Count Spike ground his teeth at Patrick’s blatant mockery. That condescending tone. That way of speaking, as if an adult were lecturing a naughty child. It stung the Count’s pride to the point of madness. But what infuriated him most was…
This son of a bitch…
Somehow, that attitude and those words felt incredibly natural and fitting for him. It was the aura of an overwhelmingly powerful being.
Do you know what the most frustrating part was? Deep in his heart, as he looked at Patrick, a feeling of terror was beginning to take root.