Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Proof (2)
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“You must be exhausted, so rest well today. We’ll talk about the details tomorrow.”
The duke said this and instructed a servant to guide Demian to the guest room.
As expected from a family renowned for its immense wealth, the treatment Demian received was extraordinarily luxurious.
When he bathed, three or four servants attended to him.
The dinner dishes were all prepared by top-class chefs.
More than five servants stood by around the clock, awaiting Demian’s commands.
‘I’ve never enjoyed such luxury in my life.’
It was an extravagance so immense that he wasn’t sure if he could ever experience it again, either now or in the future.
‘But compared to that, this is nothing.’
Demian sat on the bed and took out the Balance Pills.
Inside the wooden box, five pills were neatly packaged.
Looking at them again, he noticed that the lid had golden lettering inscribed on it.
Balance Pills
Manufactured by Azoth Arkelus of the Pill Refining School, Year 197.
“No way, that Azoth Arkelus?”
Demian’s face filled with shock as he checked the lettering several times.
Azoth Arkelus.
He was the head of the Pill Refining School, one of the rare few alchemists known as grand alchemists.
“If these are genuine elixirs made by that Azoth, they must be insanely expensive.”
Of course, compared to the legendary elixirs Azoth had created, the Balance Pills fell short in many ways.
But that didn’t make the Balance Pills any less of an extraordinary elixir.
‘A secret medicine that boosts physical abilities just by consuming it.’
Demian had only heard rumors of such things; this was the first time he’d seen one in person.
‘It’s also said to be exceptionally effective at healing internal injuries.’
However, Demian had no intention of using the Balance Pills to heal his internal injuries.
The internal wounds he had sustained were minor enough that he could heal them himself.
Demian planned to use this elixir for its original purpose.
‘I shouldn’t just consume it—I need to train alongside it.’
Elixirs could never be fully absorbed as is. You had to assume at least half the effect would be lost upon ingestion.
But Demian Haksen was confident he could fully absorb the elixir’s energy.
‘A treasure that’s exactly what I need has come my way.’
Demian had an accurate grasp of his own condition.
His body and mana were still far too lacking.
The mana deficiency had been roughly resolved with the Tyrant’s Power Accumulation Technique.
But his body was still too weak. It had been less than a month since his regression.
‘In my current state… I can’t beat a high-class.’
Demian thought of Sir Gaol Heinrich.
He might somehow manage against Ernst Horwitz, but Gaol Heinrich was on another level entirely.
Of course, in terms of skill and experience alone, Demian Haksen outclassed Gaol Heinrich by hundreds of times.
The problem was his body and mana. They were too frail, which was why he couldn’t defeat Gaol Heinrich.
There was a limit to compensating for raw power with skill.
‘While I’m at it, maybe I should start training right now?’
It was just as Demian reached for one of the Balance Pills.
“Lord Demian Haksen, did you cough?”
A knock came at the door, followed by a servant’s voice.
“What is it?”
“His Excellency requests a meeting.”
He was curious about the Balance Pills’ effects, but he couldn’t refuse the duke’s summons.
He closed the box’s lid and stepped outside.
He followed the servant to the duke’s study.
* * *
“Oh, there you are.”
As Demian entered the study, the duke greeted him with evident delight.
“Don’t just stand there—come sit here.”
The duke personally guided Demian to the table.
Not content with that, he even poured tea from a pre-steeped pot himself.
“Did you sleep well last night? How are your internal injuries? No lingering pain anywhere?”
It was an almost burdensome level of kindness.
Evidently, Demian’s performance from the day before had impressed him greatly.
“I apologize for summoning you so early. There’s a lot to discuss regarding the duel.”
The duke poured tea into his own cup as he continued.
“A duel with the Ryanbloom Marquis family is scheduled in one month at Ipari Hill.”
Demian searched his memories.
Ipari Hill lay on the border between the ducal and marquis families’ territories.
It was flat with solid ground, making it an ideal dueling ground.
“I don’t doubt your skills, but I’d like to hear how you plan to prepare for the duel in the remaining time.”
“What special plans could there be? I intend to keep training as I have been.”
Demian planned to use this opportunity to dramatically boost his physical abilities with the Balance Pills.
“Familiarity is best, of course. But Demian, since you’re here, wouldn’t it be good to try some special training?”
“Special training?”
“If you wish, I can arrange for Sir Gaol Heinrich to instruct you.”
Any other knight would have cheered at the offer.
Sir Gaol Heinrich was one of only three high-class knights in the Apple Kingdom.
Receiving instruction from him was an opportunity money couldn’t buy.
“Ah, no thank you. I prefer training alone.”
But Demian refused outright.
‘As if I care about some high-class knight.’
He might consider it if a master-class showed up. A mere high-class wasn’t worth his attention.
The duke burst into laughter at Demian’s firm rejection.
“Hahaha! Refusing so decisively. Sir Gaol would take a hit to his pride if he heard.”
“If Your Excellency is concerned, I’ll accept instruction from Sir Gaol.”
“No, it’s fine. From what I’ve learned, you’ve grown this far without a master, training solo. It suits your constitution, so I won’t interfere further.”
Demian paused midway through lifting his teacup and stared straight at the duke.
It hadn’t even been a full day since he arrived. Yet the duke had already investigated him thoroughly.
‘Or perhaps he gathered intel on me in advance.’
It wasn’t strange for the ducal family to take notice of a knight rising rapidly in fame like Demian.
“I’ve kept you too long. Go take care of your business.”
Demian gave a brief bow and left the study.
***
“Refusing high-class instruction.”
As soon as Demian left, the duke smirked with one corner of his mouth.
“Sir Gaol, what a shame.”
Someone emerged from behind the study’s large curtain.
Old knight Sir Gaol Heinrich replied with an impassive face.
“Not a shame at all.”
“You can be honest.”
“I am.”
The duke burst into laughter.
Despite his words, Gaol’s eyes burned with dissatisfaction.
“Sir Gaol, what do you think of that young man?”
At Duke Goldpixie’s question, Sir Gaol Heinrich pondered briefly.
“…An impressive youth. Despite his young age, his technique is honed to the limit. His mana control is flawless.”
It was the highest praise imaginable.
Even after being rejected for instruction, Sir Gaol Heinrich evaluated Demian Haksen objectively.
The duke appreciated this quality in him.
Unlike Ernst Horwitz, he knew how to separate personal feelings from duty.
“Must be disappointing not to take him as a disciple…”
“I told you, not at all.”
Sir Gaol Heinrich replied instantly. The duke clutched his belly laughing again.
“Then, between him and Michael Ryanbloom—who would win?”
Sir Gaol Heinrich fell deep into thought. Far longer than before.
“It’s hard to say definitively.”
He finally spoke with a heavy expression.
“Didn’t Demian Haksen breach the ducal guards and block a mid-class attack?”
“Michael Ryanbloom could do that much as well.”
The duke nodded unconsciously.
That was how monstrous Michael Ryanbloom was.
“The first time I saw Michael Ryanbloom, it was like beholding a simmering volcano. Dormant now, but destined one day to erupt and swallow the world.”
To reach high-class, Sir Gaol Heinrich was a genius himself.
Even such a man couldn’t deny Michael Ryanbloom’s extraordinary genius.
“And Demian Haksen?”
At the duke’s question, Sir Gaol Heinrich pondered again. Even longer this time.
“…He’s too clear-cut, which makes him seem off somehow.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious he’s a low-class—top-tier among them. That very clarity creates a sense of unease.”
If Sir Gaol Heinrich were ten years younger, he might not have noticed.
But his experience rang alarm bells. There was something about Demian Haksen.
“That’s why I can’t give a definite answer.”
Sir Gaol Heinrich bowed his head apologetically.
But the duke didn’t blame him.
“You can’t predict the outcome either… How intriguing.”
The duke muttered, his eyes gleaming.
“A chaotic market is precisely the treasure trove where fortunes are made.”
Though quieter now, Duke Goldpixie had once been famed as a natural gambler in his youth.
He boldly invested in fields others avoided, reaping massive profits.
“Demian Haksen—a man worth investing in.”
* * *
‘Sir Gaol Heinrich was there after all.’
Demian Haksen thought to himself from behind the study door.
He had sensed Sir Gaol Heinrich’s presence the moment he entered.
Curious why he was hidden, Demian pretended to leave and hid behind the door.
‘He’s been sizing me up through Sir Gaol Heinrich.’
It had been worth pretending to be a low-class all this time.
He hadn’t hidden it perfectly, but he had fooled Sir Gaol Heinrich’s discerning eye.
‘Trying to test me nonstop. What a tiresome man.’
They were forced into an alliance for now, but he wasn’t the type Demian wanted to stay friendly with.
‘Time to test the Balance Pills now.’
Demian left the study and headed to the training grounds.
* * *
The outdoor training grounds already had about ten knights immersed in their training.
“Hey, look over there—it’s Demian Haksen.”
“That guy His Excellency picked as the representative?”
As soon as Demian appeared, the knights’ attention poured onto him.
Demian, meanwhile, ignored them entirely. He was busy inspecting the training facilities.
‘As expected of the ducal family. So many fine tools.’
There were all sorts of equipment for building strength, sparring golems, bracelets that adjusted weight—magical artifacts of every kind.
‘Some I used back when I was a mercenary.’
As Demian browsed the training tools, a group of knights approached him. One stepped forward and spoke.
“You’re Demian Haksen?”
Demian looked up from a magical artifact at the knight.
He was extremely short. His stocky build nearly made Demian mistake him for a boy.
“I’m Pavel Vermond.”
His frame was small, but his skills seemed genuine. He was speaking on behalf of the knights, after all.
“Heard you were selected as the representative? Attacking the ducal family and then grabbing that spot—have you no shame?”
Demian glanced over Pavel Vermond and the other knights.
“New faces. Who are you lot?”
“Good question. We’re the duel knights selected to participate in this duel.”
Demian counted them. Five in total.
Likely including the candidates.
“We were all training outdoors yesterday, so we weren’t here. Lucky for you. If we had been, you wouldn’t have run wild like that.”
Demian looked at Pavel Vermond with a somewhat incredulous expression.
He couldn’t fathom how they could underestimate him after hearing what happened.
‘Come to think of it, I saw types like this a few times in my past life.’
It was during his mercenary days.
The mercenary group Demian belonged to had joined a territorial war and achieved brilliant feats.
The great noble who hired them favored the group greatly.
Jealous of that, the noble’s eldest son had picked a fight with Demian Haksen.
Of course, Demian had paid him back immediately on the battlefield.
‘Young masters with decent talent, strong family backing, and no taste of failure—they’re always like this. Can’t face reality.’
Constant success had bred their arrogance.
“Why so quiet? If you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it right here.”
Pavel Vermond placed a hand on a training sword.
“Get lost. You’re annoying.”
Demian saw no value in dealing with them further. He resumed examining the remaining artifacts.
Pavel Vermond and the knights stared at him in stunned silence.
“…We wondered what kind of guy you were since they said you were skilled. Turns out you’re just a coward.”
“Brother Pavel, no need to bother with trash like him. Let’s go.”
Pavel Vermond and the knights left.
Finally, Demian could inspect the tools uninterrupted.
“Who’s up first!”
“I’ll give it a try today!”
“Good! Come at me!”
From behind, Pavel Vermond and the knights’ shouts echoed.
The repeated sounds of swinging swords suggested they were sparring.
But something was off about the noises.
A skilled knight’s sword swings sounded distinct.
Yet these lacked any real power.
‘These are the ones participating in the duel? What’s with their skills?’
Unable to contain his curiosity, Demian glanced at the sparring.
On the training grounds, Pavel Vermond and the knights were paired off, dueling.
‘…What.’
After watching for a while, Demian could only stare in shock.
‘Why are they so terrible?’
Before coming to the ducal family, Demian had fought Geric, a knight from the Ryanbloom Marquis family.
‘Geric was on the stronger side… but he wasn’t duel-eligible, so the marquis family must have even better knights.’
The ducal knights’ skills fell far short of Geric’s.
‘…With knight skills like this, we can’t win the duel.’
Three participants per duel; first to two victories wins.
Even if Demian beat Michael Ryanbloom, losing the other two matches meant defeat for the ducal side.
‘So this is why the Ryanbloom Marquis family could beat the ducal family in the future.’
High knight quality meant family strength.
Even comparing just low-class knights, the gap was vast.
‘What to do…’
Demian pondered. The conclusion came quickly.
‘No choice. I’ll have to help out a bit.’
Demian shouted toward the knights.
“Hey, you five over there.”
Pavel Vermond and the others turned to him with baffled looks.
“Changed my mind. Let’s have a match here.”
Pavel Vermond snorted in derision.
“Don’t know what’s gotten into you, but… fine. I’ll show you my skills.”
Pavel Vermond swung his training sword as he approached.
Demian held up his palm toward him.
“Wait a moment.”
“What? Having second thoughts? Too late—don’t even think of running!”
“What nonsense.”
Even for his own goals, he couldn’t train them for free indefinitely.
Demian planned to train them while training himself.
‘Strength training is good, but sparring is the best.’
Sparring worked the whole body, intensely targeting essential muscles.
That was why Demian preferred sparring above all else.
“Stay put and wait there.”
Demian began equipping the weight-adjusting bracelet magical artifact he’d eyed earlier.
Activating it made his whole body feel heavy, like carrying wet cotton.
He donned leg guards that stressed the muscles. He tested by bending an arm—it felt like iron rods were embedded in his muscles.
Finally, he picked up a practice magic sword. Swinging it in the air was heavy and slow, like cutting through water.
Last, he took out a Balance Pill and swallowed it.
“Done. Come at me.”
Demian beckoned with a finger.
“…”
Pavel Vermond stared silently at Demian.
Having lived long in the ducal family, he knew. Demian had shackled himself with ridiculous handicaps.
Sparring like that? It took serious contempt for your opponent.
“This bastard… how much do you look down on me!”
Pavel Vermond charged in fury, swinging at Demian’s head.
Demian casually parried. The sword flew from Pavel’s grip, far away.
“…Huh?”
Demian swung at the stunned Pavel Vermond’s neck. Pavel let out a short cry and fainted.
“Whew… this is decent exercise.”
Demian cracked his neck side to side.
Just that brief movement had him breathing hard, muscles aching already.
“What are you waiting for? Come on.”
Demian addressed the remaining knights.
“If you don’t come, I’ll come to you.”