Beck's Social Party Without Beck
Beck couldn't comprehend the situation unfolding before him. What had begun as a casual duel had spiraled into something far beyond his expectations. His opponent was the eldest son of the Legrian family—Albert, the man who had vanished ten years ago only to reappear without warning.
'One look at his hands tells the whole story. This guy is weak.'
The Kai family was renowned for treating the body as a weapon. They trained relentlessly and possessed exceptional talent in physical conditioning. As the saying went, you see what you know. Back in his hellish training days, concepts like targeting specific muscles, closing the shoulder blades, preventing the back from rounding, or bracing the core had seemed incomprehensible. Only after becoming a dedicated gym rat did everything finally click. That kind of insight was the Kai family's specialty. Since they forged their bodies into weapons, a single glance at someone's hands revealed exactly how strong they were.
But Albert was different. His hands were pristine—soft, clean, untouched by hardship. He had clearly never gripped a sword, never thrown a proper punch. 'A weakling. Beating someone like this will be trivial.'
Just like with Elena before, Beck had planned to overpower him effortlessly, demonstrate his superiority, and solidify his position. Especially with Bahun Pomeranian watching, he intended to crush Albert from the very start.
Yet—
"Left."
Smack!
"What? You can't even dodge that? I'm literally calling out the direction! Dodge properly. Alright, right side this time."
Smack!
"Try dodging, would you? Isn't your family supposed to specialize in hand-to-hand combat? Is this really the best you can do? You need to evade more decisively. Come on, left leg now."
Every plan had variables, and the variable in this one was painfully obvious: Albert was far stronger than Beck.
'I have to dodge...'
"Left. Can't dodge that either? Right. How about this one? What exactly are you good at?"
"Ugh..."
Beck wanted to evade, but no matter how desperately he tried, his body refused to respond. He could see the trajectory of Albert's fists clearly, yet his limbs wouldn't move. Attacks he should have avoided landed anyway.
'How is this possible...'
Beck's body was becoming ragged. Several teeth had been knocked out and now lay scattered across the ground. His entire frame was covered in deep purple bruises. An ordinary person would have passed out long ago, but unfortunately for Beck, he couldn't. Thanks to his family's proud Iron Aura, his durability had improved just enough to keep him conscious through the pain.
"Kuhak!"
Albert's fist drove deep into his abdomen, then snapped his head sideways once more.
"Wow, your endurance is impressive. Still standing? Is that the Iron Aura? Guess it's letting you hang in there."
Whether that was a blessing or a curse remained debatable. The aura kept Beck upright, but it also forced him to feel every ounce of agony.
"Guh!"
For the first time in his life, Beck found himself resenting his own family.
'Why did you have to birth me this sturdy, Father? And why train me to be even tougher?!'
Because of it, he couldn't even faint. His powerful physique kept his mind stubbornly awake. The very body he had once taken such pride in now filled him with loathing.
"Is this really all you've got?"
Then, the relentless beating that had seemed endless finally stopped.
"I had some expectations since your family supposedly uses the body as a weapon, but this is it? Your family's secret technique isn't much to write home about."
"What...?"
The sudden mention of his family made Beck force his mouth open. Albert smirked.
He had no intention of stopping at a simple beating.
'Elena suffered every humiliation at this guy's hands. I can't let him off easy.'
He planned to break Beck completely—body and spirit, inside and out.
"What do you mean, exactly what I said. Makes sense, doesn't it? You couldn't even scratch me without a sword, couldn't dodge a single hit. That just proves your family's technique is garbage, right?"
Beck's fists clenched tightly.
"Don't insult my family..."
"It's not an insult, it's a fact. Why? Getting angry? So mad your frontal lobe's twitching?"
"...I don't care about anything else! But insulting my family—I can never forgive that. Take it back!!"
The cry was nothing more than the desperate howl of the defeated, carrying no weight with Albert.
"I can take it back—if you beat me. If you want to argue, prove with your own strength that your family's technique isn't trash."
"..."
It was the same thing Beck had once said to Elena. The cold eyes and voice carried an anger no ordinary person could withstand.
"Pathetic."
Albert moved. In an instant his figure vanished. Beck braced for impact, but it was futile. Albert's power wasn't something you could prepare for.
BOOM!
Albert grabbed Beck's head and slammed it into the ground.
"Doesn't look like you have the strength to make me take it back. Then again, that's what happens when you learn such worthless garbage. You're even weaker than me, and I don't even use a sword."
"..."
"If you're frustrated, get up. I don't mind if you look pathetic. Desperate struggles usually do."
Albert planted his foot on Beck's head. Beck struggled to rise, pouring mana through every muscle, but Albert's leg didn't budge a millimeter.
"What the hell is going on...?"
"Did Sir Beck... lose?"
"Impossible. Wasn't the Legrian family ruined? How...?"
"He was so weak four years ago..."
The spectators couldn't believe their eyes. It was the same scene from four years ago, yet the outcome was the complete opposite of what everyone had expected.
'Another one dies today.'
'Should've known better than to challenge him.'
'He might've been a count once, but that's ancient history. Back after ten years and still doesn't know his place.'
Everyone had predicted Albert's defeat and mocked his recklessness. Instead, they witnessed his overwhelming victory.
"How is something like that even possible?"
"He didn't even use a sword."
"Maybe Sir Beck wasn't feeling well..."
"No way. He was bragging about being in peak condition all day."
"Then... how...?"
Albert continued to grind Beck underfoot, crushing his pride, honor, and strength into utter despair. It was a thorough lesson in reality.
"What are you doing? Get up. Don't you need to protect your family's honor? Though with how weak you are, whatever honor you could guard probably isn't worth much anyway."
"Kuh..."
Beck trembled with humiliation, his body shaking violently. Albert's voice cut through every sound, pounding against his eardrums and branding itself into his mind. He wanted to deny it, to demand Albert take it back, but—
'I'm... weak...'
There was no winning. The same crushing humiliation and powerlessness Elena had felt four years ago now consumed Beck completely. He felt the wall—a towering cliff carved from solid rock, an insurmountable barrier he could never hope to scale no matter how hard he tried.
"You laid hands on my sister, insulted my family, and mocked my parents. You told my sister to prove her worth with strength, didn't you? So how does it feel?"
Albert pressed down harder with his foot, his voice sharp as a blade.
"How does it feel to realize the power you believed in was worthless all along?"
Just then—
"What is the meaning of this?!"
Knights stormed into the training grounds. A bald one among them spotted Beck pinned beneath Albert's foot and cried out in shock.
"Y-Young Master Beck!! Y-You bastard! Get away from him!"
The knight charged forward, swinging his sword—not to strike, but to threaten Albert into releasing Beck. But—
'H-He isn't dodging?'
Albert didn't move. Instead, he reached out toward the gleaming blade.
'Insane! That's suicide! Does he want to lose his hand?!'
No ordinary person could catch a swinging sword barehanded. The blade would cut deep, possibly maiming him permanently.
'You brought this on yourself... Don't blame me!'
The knight's eyes hardened with resolve as he swung with full intent to sever Albert's hand. But the expected outcome never came.
"Huk!"
The knight gasped. The moment his sword touched Albert's hand, it shattered into countless fragments that scattered through the air.
He couldn't believe it.
"M-My sword..."
Tears welled in his eyes.
'I worked so hard to save up for this sword... I only bought it yesterday...'
The blade he'd purchased with his entire paycheck lay destroyed before him. Albert snorted at the devastated knight.
"Even the family's knights are this weak? How are you supposed to protect anyone? Then again, a guy who can't even protect his own hair probably can't protect much else."
"You damned bastard! I'll never forgive you!!"
Whether Albert had hit a nerve or not, the bald knight charged with foam at his mouth. Albert casually flicked his forehead, dropping him instantly.
"Mog!!"
"How dare you touch Mog!"
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
A knight with a dignified bearing stepped forward from the group. He was clearly the captain. Even in armor, the aura of his trained physique was unmistakable.
If Aiden was a towering mountain, this man was merely a sturdy hill. The difference in presence was obvious.
"To cause such a disturbance in the count's household, and in front of so many witnesses no less—assaulting the second son of the family..."
Heavy anger burned in his eyes. His fighting spirit surged alongside his fury, making him look ready to charge like an enraged boar.
"Do you truly believe you'll walk away unscathed after such insolence?"
Most would have been intimidated, but Albert merely snorted and pressed his foot down harder on Beck.
"I think I'll be fine. And the ones who committed the real insolence are you lot."
Albert glanced around at the crowd.
"Beck and I began this duel through proper procedure. Everyone here is a witness. You all saw me issue the challenge."
When Albert met their eyes expectantly, the spectators found themselves nodding despite themselves.
"See? This was a legitimate duel. Yet without checking the circumstances, that knight charged at me and even swung his sword. How do you explain that?"
"That is..."
Only then did the captain's aggressive aura subside.
"...My apologies."
"You nearly injured a noble engaged in a sacred duel. If a mere verbal apology suffices, then why do we have strict kingdom laws?"
At that moment, the onlookers thought:
'His mother was a merchant, wasn't she?'
'He sure knows how to talk.'
'How can he argue so logically?'
'Handsome, skilled in combat, and eloquent too...'
It wasn't an exaggeration to say he had everything.
"...Understood. As penance for this discourtesy, I will dismiss Mog from service."
Mog had achieved a rare four-time loser status: failed to protect his master, failed to protect his hair, failed to protect his sword, and now failed to protect his job. Few had fallen so far so fast. At least he still had his life.
"Then... please remove your foot."
Albert looked at Elena. She nodded with a refreshed expression, the resentment she'd carried for four years finally released.
"Well, this should be enough."
Albert lifted his foot. Knights rushed over, pulled Beck's head from the ground, and carried him to the infirmary. As the captain moved to leave as well, Albert called out.
"So we can enjoy the social party now, right?"
"...With Sir Beck in that condition, you still wish to proceed with the party...?"
The captain stared at Albert in disbelief. The party's host lay battered in the infirmary. Normally the event would be canceled, but—
"After inviting all these people, you're just going to end it?"
Can you handle the consequences?
'More importantly...'
The captain glanced at the quietly observing Bahun Pomeranian. Sending everyone home now would make the relationship with the Pomeranian ducal house unpredictable.
"...Understood. I will inform the others that the social party will continue."
Thus the captain departed with Beck. Albert turned to the remaining guests and smiled brightly.
"What are you all standing around for? Let's enjoy the social party."
And so began Beck's social party—without Beck.