012. Blue Wolf, Willie 1
Four siblings held their breath, eyes fixed on Bin's lips. Contrary to their expectations, his gaze overflowed with confidence.
“I agree to a formal duel!”
“……!”
Silence swept through the room in an instant. It was because of Bin's attitude, utterly devoid of hesitation.
Objectively speaking, he had every reason to feel the pressure. A formal duel—in front of the entire household. He couldn't possibly use his hidden magi in such a public spectacle.
But Bin had no intention of backing down again, not like in his previous life.
Velvet's eyes widened at his bold declaration.
That idiot.
It wasn't unreasonable for her to think so. Bin could reach the level of a 6th Class knight through his weapons alone. But Willie was different—a 4th Class knight who could wield mana with considerable skill.
Velvet started to worry for a moment, then shook her head.
Whatever. It's not my problem. Good luck.
Billy and Shirley smirked at Bin's agreement to the formal duel.
Heh, he took the bait.
Wonder how he'll get crushed.
Unlike their assumptions, Bin saw right through the situation. He was certain this had been orchestrated under Billy, Shirley, and Willie's lead. He'd anticipated something like this ever since he'd started messing with those three.
Bin glared at Billy and Shirley, muttering inwardly.
Let's see if things go your way.
Tension crackled between the siblings, filling the room. Then—
Moden burst into booming laughter, defusing the charged atmosphere.
“Hahaha!”
He seemed pleased by Bin's confident display.
“That's the spirit. Only then can you claim the Bascon bloodline.”
Moden's satisfied smile made Bin's eyes flicker.
Father...
Bin felt a strange mix of emotions hearing the word “bloodline” from Moden Bascon—the family head and his father.
Moden Bascon. He'd never once shied away from a one-on-one fight. Stronger or weaker opponent—it didn't matter. He charged in headfirst. And he survived to the end.
Perhaps that unyielding nature had forged him into the current family head.
The other siblings found the scene unfamiliar. Billy, in particular, stared blankly at Moden's smile.
Father, who's never been stingy with praise... why for Bin...?
Billy pondered.
Lately, Father's been looking at Bin differently...
It had started after Billy and Shirley lost to Bin.
Why only him... that bastard... This is all your fault, Bin...
Billy clenched his fists, grinding his teeth.
From Moden's perspective, though, Bin naturally stood out. He'd made it this far despite the handicap of using only one hand. At just ten years old, he'd offered up a 6th Class monster, the Erymanthian Boar, and even unleashed sword wind. Moden's expectations for this child of immense potential kept rising. No longer just the cute youngest—he was a proper Bascon warrior now.
Perhaps, unconsciously, Moden even saw him as the future leader of the Bascon family.
Willie, envious of that, eyed Bin with wariness.
Even those guys are enough competition for the heir position. Before a weed like you gets in the way, I'll uproot you.
Willie looked down at Bin, who now carried himself with newfound poise unlike before. His eyes brimmed with venom.
Thinking of the duel to come, Willie curled his lips into a smirk.
I'll praise you for not running from me. But you'll regret that choice for the rest of your life.
* * *
Plentel Castle's arena. A massive marble disk lay at the center, ringed by countless spectator seats. It even evoked the image of Rome's Colosseum.
Its distinctive feature? Weapons surrounded the arena floor—swords, spears, bows, shields, scythes, and more, all embedded in the ground. These were the arms of those who had breathed their last in this very pit.
From this, one could glean Bascon tradition. Unlike other families, they didn't use practice weapons like wooden swords. Only live combat gear. It was the Bascon way: show full power to an enemy staking their life. A policy to forge knights who shone brightest in real battle.
Moden, the three siblings, retainers, and knights sat in the stands, watching the two who had entered the arena.
At the disk's center stood calm-headed Bin with his neat hair, facing long-haired Willie.
The knights in the stands buzzed with excitement.
“Who'll win between young master Willie and young master Bin?”
A nearby knight replied.
“What kind of question is that? Obviously young master Willie. He's seven years older. Look at their builds—they're worlds apart.”
He was right. Bin's head only reached Willie's shoulders. Their frames differed starkly in shoulders, arms, backs. Willie had hit his secondary growth spurt; Bin hadn't. The gap was inevitable.
Another knight continued, sizing them up.
“Young master Willie and young master Bin aren't even in the same league from the start! Bin's 8th Class, Willie's 4th Class! No contest.”
But one knight raised a counterpoint, referencing recent events.
“They say young master Bin took down the Erymanthian Boar, a 6th Class monster, despite how he looks. And with the handicap—young master Willie limiting himself to 4th Class mana and using the lowest-grade weapon—how can you be so sure?”
“Come on... A knight's true skill matters more than tools. Harsh as it sounds, we're just hoping young master Bin doesn't get hurt.”
The knight glanced around, then continued—checking for any Bin supporters.
“A whole class apart is a different level. Think an 8th Class can fight a 4th Class?”
Mentioning ranks drew nods of agreement.
“Exactly. Even so, 8th Class versus 4th Class? No way. And young master Bin only used his left hand before... Not just any 4th Class—it's young master Willie. The outcome's clear.”
Just then, as he finished speaking—a sharp clack! clack! echoed from Bin's discarded uniform nearby. Teeth grinding.
How dare these mongrels insult my lord. Shall I smash their skulls and see what spills out...?
Codic, unable to hold back at their words, had clicked his teeth. The knights glanced around nervously.
“……”
But as the two knights said, overturning a class difference wasn't easy. Plus, Willie had ample real combat experience. Bin had only recently reached 6th Class level—and only with the Bow Sword at that. Even if they knew, their verdict wouldn't change.
Shirley, seated in the front row, alternated glances between Willie and Bin. Then she noticed the change.
“He's using two swords?”
What she'd seen: Bin's Bow Sword and the bandaged Shabest.
Moden added his commentary.
“Dual-wielding allows flexible swordplay depending on the situation, but the added weight hampers mobility. Take note.”
Billy and Shirley responded in unison.
“Yes, Father.”
Their voices brightened at the rare advice.
Moden watched the beaming pair, then a question arose.
Dual swords against Willie, who's top among the siblings in speed...? His grasp of combat is still immature, then...
Willie began donning his claws from his belt with both hands.
Bin watched, recalling his past life as a blacksmith.
Claws.
Hook-shaped like talons. Short attack range, but peerless speed. Coat them in poison, and a graze could be fatal. One tricky weapon.
Having recalled the claws, Bin gripped his Bow Sword in his left hand and stared at Willie.
Their gazes clashed, sparking a battle of wills.
As brothers, the rules differed from lethal formal duels. Drop your weapon or admit defeat—the match ends. Of course, Willie planned an “accidental” injury regardless.
As their stare-down intensified, Willie moved first.
In a flash, he charged, claws aimed at Bin's head.
A retainer in the stands gasped at Willie's blinding speed.
“F-Fast...”
If that strike had come for him, he wouldn't have tracked it—his head would've been gone.
Skilled motion. Not just speed.
Shifting to Bin's sword-blind spot, Willie struck.
Shk—
But Bin wasn't one to fall easily. He drew his Bow Sword and swiftly retreated, parrying.
Clang!
The Bow Sword's enhanced power did the work.
Several knights in the stands reacted with stunned murmurs.
“His level just jumped...”
“How's an 8th Class moving like that...!”
“He was hiding something after all!”
As the knights whispered, the duel pressed on.
Willie smirked at Bin blocking his strike.
“Not bad. Retreating to buy even a split second more to read my attack.”
He'd read Bin's intent perfectly: widen the gap slightly to predict the assault range.
At the unexpected praise, Bin bared his teeth in a grin.
“Surely the fastest of the seven siblings isn't all you've got?”
Provoked, Willie let out a hollow laugh, scowling. He raised his claws, blades glinting.
“Been playing outside too much? Baring your teeth at the Blue Wolf. Try taking this!”
Willie swung at Bin—a razor-sharp white wind blade hurtled forth.
The retainers' eyes widened.
“That speed's unlike other sword winds. So this is young master Willie, the Blue Wolf's attack!”
Some families called it “blade wind,” but the Bascons unified it as sword wind.
The white blade sliced through the air toward Bin. He sheathed his Bow Sword and simply watched it come.
The stands' pupils dilated at his odd move.
“What... He's forfeiting?!”
“He'll die if it hits...!”
As retainers envisioned Bin bisected—
Bin drew the Shabest hidden in bandages. A radiant transparent sword gleamed.
His eyes flashed with surging confidence.
“Come on, let's play for real.”