Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Pummeling the Prince
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The Fourth Prince, Arkin von Edbalt, was not in a good mood.
He wasn’t pleased that the duel had dragged on this far.
It should have ended with just a flick of his finger. Just like two years ago.
Still, the fact that he would win hadn’t changed. The illegitimate Damian had learned magic beyond his station and self-destructed.
‘I’ll break one of his legs too.’
Thinking that, Arkin launched an ice cannonball. The staggering bastard didn’t even look like he had the strength left to dodge properly.
If the punk had any brains, he’d declare surrender right about now. Of course, Arkin hoped he wouldn’t.
The look on that insolent maid’s face when she saw her former master turned into a complete wreck. Just imagining it made his mouth water.
“What are you grinning about?”
Suddenly, a loathsome voice cut into his pleasant fantasy.
“What?”
Shatter! The ice cannonball that should have struck Damian dead-on exploded into shards, and green flames erupted through the gaps.
The ice fragments melted away in the swirling blaze, and through the rising steam, Damian appeared holding a burning sword.
“You bastard!”
Arkin fired another ice cannonball, but the result was the same.
Hellfire and swordsmanship.
Neither power alone could withstand Arkin’s attacks, but combining them changed everything.
The heat of the Hellfire weakened the ice cannonballs, and the sword strikes created cracks.
Then Hellfire seeped in, fully melting the ice.
Now that he had a sword, there was no reason to fight at range. Damian charged forward, thrusting his flaming blade.
Boom! The fiery sword clashed against the translucent barrier.
Arkin’s face, which had been smug with newfound momentum just moments ago, twisted in fury.
Damian, on the other hand, showed no particular emotion and stayed focused on the duel. He twisted his body immediately, aiming for Arkin’s flank.
Mana barriers typically formed only on the side facing incoming attacks. Defending all directions consumed too much mana.
That was why constant focus was essential. Miss your opponent’s speed, and it could lead straight to a fatal wound.
And Damian’s footwork was sharper than Arkin had anticipated.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A flurry of clashes followed. Against Damian’s lightning-fast swordplay, Arkin could do nothing but keep deploying his mana barrier.
‘Aura?’
Aura at a certain level could take on specific attributes. Seeing Damian’s sword, that thought crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
Damian had some talent for magic, but when it came to aura, he was worse than street thugs.
The sword was on fire, sure, but there was no flow of mana around Damian’s body.
‘Wait, then how is he moving this fast!?’
Arkin and even his escorts couldn’t hide their shock at Damian’s movements.
He clearly wasn’t using aura, yet his swordsmanship matched its power and speed.
It was hard to believe this was the result of two years training with a mere horse groom.
Even the captain of the Imperial Knights wouldn’t teach like that.
No one except Anna and Felix knew.
That Damian’s swordsmanship came from the Iron Wolf—a man who had once reached legendary status through physical prowess and technique alone.
Crack! Amid the ongoing exchanges, fissures appeared in Arkin’s barrier.
He’d managed to block the previous flame attacks somehow, but adding the sword’s physical force pushed it to its limit.
Arkin immediately poured in more mana to form a new barrier behind him. He had to block the green flames from getting closer.
He never imagined the duel would play out like this. If he had, he would have used flight magic from the start to keep his distance.
Why had he even accepted such a duel in the first place? Over some lowly maid. He didn’t need to establish hierarchy like this—Damian was just a bastard, and he was the Empire’s Fourth Prince.
And why was that idiot Zika just standing there gawking? Duel or not, when his master was in danger, shouldn’t he help somehow?
‘…Oh no!!’
When casting magic—aside from mana itself—the most crucial element was concentration.
Distractions created cracks that snowballed out of control. Just like what was happening to Arkin now.
Shatter! The weakened barrier broke like glass. Closing the distance even further, Damian left burns and slashes on Arkin’s arm simultaneously.
“Arghhh!”
The wound itself wasn’t deep. Damian had held back his strength.
Even in a duel, chopping off a prince’s arm would cause backlash.
He had no desire to deal with the Empress’s tantrums on top of everything.
But the pain Arkin felt went beyond the injury. It was like his skin was being peeled off and branded with a hot iron.
One application of black magic Hellfire. It reduced the heat while amplifying the agony.
Normally used to overwhelm foes with pain beyond limits, but this time, he dialed it back.
‘He can’t go down from just this.’
Damian wasn’t ready to end the duel yet.
That gave Arkin a chance to counter. He levitated himself with magic to create distance, firing off new ice cannonballs at Damian.
‘Hm?’
He deflected them successfully again, but Damian sensed something off.
The ice’s cohesion was far weaker than before.
Arkin was at his limit, sure, but this seemed like intentional power conservation.
“Ha! Got you now.”
With Arkin’s shout, a gust of wind slammed into Damian.
He’d cast wind magic behind the ice cannonballs. The still-unmelted ice shards battered him relentlessly.
He tried to knock them away with his sword, but there were too many. The blade slipped from his hand.
At the same time, the Hellfire burning on his finger snuffed out. His stamina and mana were still fine. So it must have been some kind of overload.
‘The Hellfire I used before regressing is definitely different.’
Similar, but not identical. His past experience helped, but he couldn’t rely on it completely.
The solution was simple. Train steadily and refine it. Figure out how to handle Molech’s Hellfire.
He could ponder that after the duel.
Arkin, meanwhile, assumed Damian’s mana was depleted. He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.
‘Whatever. It’s my victory!’
Arkin was at his limit too. Casting more spells now would leave him bedridden for days.
But he hadn’t exhausted his mana completely. He just had to wait for the bastard’s surrender.
That’s what he thought.
“Huh?”
Arkin’s vision flipped. Crunch! His back slammed down, a dull pain exploding through his body.
Damian had disrupted his balance, then hoisted him up with one arm.
“What are you staring at?”
Damian mounted him immediately. He pinned Arkin’s movements with his legs and raised his fist.
-The most effective way to fight an enemy barehanded is to get on top.
Derek’s teachings replayed automatically in his mind.
-What next?
-Hammer their face without mercy. Especially effective against mages. They can’t cast without focus.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Damian rained fists down on Arkin’s face. It didn’t take long for the prince’s prominent nose to crumple and blood to pour from his split lips.
“You! You! Bastard! Bastard!”
Arkin couldn’t even string words together under the assault.
His voice dripped with injustice. Physical brawls didn’t happen in standard mage duels.
But Imperial Law didn’t forbid it. So Damian’s actions were perfectly legal.
Those ignorant of black magic had mistaken Hellfire for regular fire magic, but Damian wasn’t a mage.
“Don’t. Ever. Come. Near. The detached. Palace. Or. Anna. Again. Not. Even. In. Your. Dreams.”
“Wha—! You—! Lowly—!”
Arkin flailed his arms desperately to escape, but his feeble punches didn’t reach Damian.
‘Has this bastard always been this big?’
Looking up, Damian seemed much larger than before. No, he didn’t even look human anymore.
It felt like a starving wolf baring its fangs at him.
“Shut! Up! Why! Shouldn’t I—!”
Arkin screamed in rage. There was no trace of princely dignity left.
“Fine. Then. Try it. Once. I’ll. Turn you. Into. Pulp. Again.”
Arkin’s retainers, Zika included, could only watch as their master’s face was pummeled.
Duels under Imperial Law were sacred; outsiders couldn’t interfere lightly.
A notary could intervene to prevent disaster, but this didn’t qualify yet.
Blood streamed from his face, and he’d lost a few teeth, but he was still conscious. No safety measures triggered.
Exactly as Damian intended. He could have knocked him out, but deliberately avoided lethal blows while piling on the pain.
He couldn’t punish Arkin fully for future crimes now.
But he remembered every sin. And beyond that, he harbored plenty of feelings toward this half-brother.
‘Pummeling with fists is more fun than I thought.’
Each strike loosened the knots in his chest. It felt like a refreshing breeze blowing through him.
Why pass up a legal chance to beat him under the guise of a duel?
Who knew? Maybe Arkin would learn his lesson and turn over a new leaf.
“Agh! I get it! I—surrender!”
Thud! Even after the declaration, Damian landed one final punch.
Arkin’s grotesquely swollen face, like malformed dough, went limp as he lost consciousness with faint breaths.
“The… duel ends. Winner… Damian Renekht….”
Zika announced in a trembling voice. He and Arkin’s retainers still couldn’t process the result.
Leaving Arkin gasping like a fish out of water, Damian slowly rose.
His disheveled state was worse than before the duel, his left arm dangling limply.
Blood dripped from his right hand, the one that had battered Arkin’s face.
Likely a mix of Arkin’s blood and his own.
Yet his eyes burned with the same indescribable light as at the start. No one dared move.
Anna and Felix wanted to cheer, but Damian’s aura forced them to hold back.
They knew he’d changed. But the pressure he exuded went beyond that.
“I’m hungry.”
Damian murmured softly, looking at them.