The First Duel
A week of preparation had ended, and the day of the duel had finally arrived. The massive circular Training Arena in the Main Castle of the Hartvalt Grand Duchy was packed to the brim with crowds gathering like clouds from early morning. Normally, this was a place for knights' training and spars, but the atmosphere enveloping the arena today was entirely different.
Resembling a circular gladiatorial pit, it was surrounded by countless soldiers centered around the main arena. The tiered spectator seats above were filled with the Grand Duchy's knight order and veteran knights. And at the highest seat of honor, the leadership of the Hartvalt Grand Duchy had gathered, overlooking the scene like spectators at a Colosseum life-or-death match: the current Grand Duke, Roderick Hartvalt; Grand Duchess Enora; third son Leon Hartvalt; and relatives including cousin Derek Hartvalt.
Grandfather's here too.
But the most striking figure was former Grand Duke Balgrim Hartvalt, seated in the center of the upper seats. However, what was unfolding here today was no mere spar. It was a public duel personally approved by former Grand Duke Balgrim himself! A stage for the Hartvalt wastrel eldest son, Kyle Hartvalt, to prove his words with strength.
"Hmph."
Roderick, seated in the upper seats, gazed down at the arena with coldly chilled eyes. Displeasure was thick on his face.
"The day has finally come."
"The day that madman gets smashed."
"Thinking that wastrel's finally getting wrecked makes my gut feel refreshed already."
"Ha! Who says otherwise?"
From the knight order filling the spectator seats, blatant hostility and killing intent poured out without restraint. To them, Kyle was still the irredeemable trash drowning in booze. He'd used his status as Grand Duke Heir as a shield to rip apart an unarmed servant's arm. He was the madman who'd vilely caved in the face of fellow knight Dick Werner, who tried to intervene. And the trash who'd mocked the knights as 'dogs that bite their master.'
The first volunteer opponent to smash Kyle today was Roman Bricks.
"Hoo."
Standing at one side of the arena, Roman exhaled and gripped the hilt at his waist. He was a mid-level knight who'd rushed into Kyle's room days ago to tend to bloodied Dick and the servant. He was burning to crush that arrogant wastrel's nose in revenge for his bedridden comrade.
But upon hearing the circumstances, Roman never once thought Dick had lost due to lack of skill.
It was a vile ambush. He let his guard down because the opponent was the Grand Duke Heir, and hesitated to resist due to his status.
Pointing and asking 'what's that?' to make the opponent turn, then ambushing—that was filthy beyond words. But today was different. In the center of this circular arena with hundreds of eyes fixed on them, he couldn't cowardly strike the back of the head.
Today, I'll show that wastrel what for. Make him piss himself crying!
Roman vowed to punish the wastrel today and avenge Dick. If he publicly earned the nickname 'piss pants,' everyone would praise his pursuit of justice.
Thud, thud—
Kyle stepped into the arena from the opposite side.
He's here!
Roman strode toward the center as well. The two faced off in the middle. Kyle smirked leisurely.
Arrogant wastrel bastard. Your status won't save you today.
Schling—
Roman drew his sword. The cold metallic ring echoed.
"Grand Duke Heir."
Roman pointed his blade tip downward and sneered.
"You won't be able to use any tricks this time."
He deliberately raised his voice so the surrounding knights, soldiers, and upper-seat nobles could hear clearly.
"On this fair and square arena! I, Roman Bricks, as a knight, shall repay the humiliation Knight Dick suffered!"
Kyle snorted at the words 'fair and square.'
"Fair and square?"
He mocked the phrase.
"The ones who believe in that crap always die first."
Roman's eyebrow twitched. The knights' faces hardened viciously upon hearing Kyle.
"As expected, the Grand Duke Heir knows nothing of honor."
"Honor? The fools who buy into that die quick. What's honor in a fight? Winning's all that matters."
The knights muttered darkly at Kyle's words.
"Filthy bastard."
"Wastrel rotten to the bone!"
"What does he think a knight's duel is?"
"Knight Roman! Show him!"
The knights bared their hatred and contempt for Kyle, cheering Roman even louder.
At that moment, a veteran knight stepped forward as referee. Standing in the arena center, he declared,
"I now announce the duel rules."
"Attacks that directly take life are forbidden. Stop immediately if the opponent surrenders or loses consciousness. All other injuries are part of the duel."
Broken bones, flowing blood, torn flesh—all had to be endured. This was the public duel approved by the former Grand Duke. A stage for Hartvalt blood to prove words with power.
Shoooo—
First, blue aura bloomed over Roman's blade. Stable aura befitting a mid-level knight. In contrast, only a faint blood-red energy thinly coated Kyle's sword. A slender wisp that couldn't even fully envelop the blade.
Low snickers leaked from the soldiers.
"That's aura?"
"A candle burns brighter."
"Even a passing orc's fart would snuff it out."
"Puhahaha! Hey, don't make dirty jokes!"
"Without Knight Roman going easy, he won't last one exchange?"
Leina Garyen watched from one side of the arena. She wasn't laughing.
The Grand Duke Heir's aura is indeed weak. His physical abilities are hopelessly inferior to Knight Roman's.
She was the one who'd watched Kyle's training closest over the past week. It was true his aura was feeble, and his body lagged behind a mid-level knight like Roman.
Does he have some confidence? Or is it just arrogance?
At first, she thought it mere overconfidence. But the eerie edge in his movements over the week defied explanation. This duel would reveal it.
"Begin!"
The referee's shout rang out. Roman moved first.
"Haaap!"
Roman's blue sword strike slashed mercilessly at Kyle's front. Kyle didn't meet it head-on. Clashing directly where power and aura favored his foe would be foolish. He twisted his torso at a grotesque angle, deflecting the strike.
But he couldn't fully evade a mid-level knight's speed.
Slash!
Roman's blade grazed Kyle's shoulder, scattering red droplets into the air.
"Ha!"
Roman sneered triumphantly at drawing first blood.
"All talk, but your body's far clumsier than I thought!"
Kyle crouched wordlessly. Roman's second strike sliced horizontally. Kyle barely leaned back, but the tip grazed his side, leaving a thin gash.
The spectator knights roared in cheers.
"As expected!"
"No way a wastrel who can't even form proper aura beats a mid-level knight!"
"Knight Roman! Don't end it too quick!"
"Haha! Give him a proper thrashing!"
"Teach him the knights' fury!"
No deference to the Grand Duke Heir, even in a duel approved by the former Grand Duke. Kyle was that loathed and despised by the knights.
Perfect!
Roman was certain of victory. He wouldn't drop Kyle in one go. First, wound the limbs and humiliate him publicly. Then make him beg pathetically for his life.
"Haaap!"
The third strike targeted Kyle's left arm. This time, Kyle didn't dodge. He lunged blade-first.
Stab!
Roman's blade tore deep into Kyle's left arm. Flesh burst, blood gushing wildly.
"Wh-what kind of mad—!"
Roman's pupils shook like an earthquake. Any sane swordsman would dodge or block that trajectory. But Kyle had angled just enough to spare bone, deliberately offering his arm to close inside Roman's guard.
"Uh, whoa?!"
As Roman panicked to pull back, Kyle's forehead rocketed like lightning into his face.
Crack!
The gruesome crunch of bone on bone echoed through the arena.
"Guh, urk…!"
Roman's nose shattered. His vision reeled. As he staggered, losing balance, horrified screams erupted from the knight order.
"A h-headbutt?!"
"Street thug shit in a duel!"
"How can he do something so vile?!"
But Kyle's assault was just beginning. He seized Roman's sword-wrist as blood poured from the man's nose. Then, without hesitation, sank his teeth in like a beast.
Crunch!
"Gaaaaah!"
A beastly scream tore from Roman. Flesh ripped from his wrist, blood spurting.
"He b-bit him?!"
"That crazy fuck bit a man!"
"That's no knight's duel! Stop it now!"
"What are you doing? Make him stop that madness!"
The spectator knights jumped in fury, protesting. But the central referee didn't intervene. No fatal wound. No unconsciousness. No surrender. The rules had no clause against teeth.
"Th-that mad act! In a sacred duel…!"
The Grand Duke glared at Kyle like filth, erupting in rage. But he couldn't continue.
"Kuhahaha!"
Former Grand Duke Balgrim in the upper seats burst into booming laughter.
"Yes! You're a proper one after all! Exactly! Use everything you can in a fight!"