Uncle's Obsession with Ellen (4)
A silver giant clad in full plate armor. Chandor. A beastly ferocity seeped out from the visor of his helmet. He stared at me for a long while before kneeling before Lord Artis.
"Huhu… Chandor is the man they called the Knight Slayer."
First time I'd ever heard of it.
"What, the Knight Slayer?"
I just pretended to know because the atmosphere demanded a reaction.
Seemed he was pretty famous, with the crowd buzzing about his title.
"Huhu…!"
Lord Artis puffed up with pride. His ultimate weapon, standing in for him, was getting recognition. It was like elevating his own honor. He strutted around like a kid bragging about a toy, nose practically in the air.
Huhu… Let's see how long you can keep that up.
One uneasy thing, though—this guy reeked of something ominous. A normal person might chalk it up to fear from his appearance, but… I could tell for sure. Something curse-related. My senses, sharpened by mana, picked it up clearly. The thick, rotten stench stung my skin.
Blood already boiling.
The silver knight rose again and glared at me.
"Yeah, so what."
"Grrr…"
"Can't talk?"
"Gr…"
I could kinda understand him, but communication was a no-go. The rotten stink wafting from the visor was twisting my nose out of shape.
"Go take a damn bath, man. Phew…"
"Gr!"
He reacted violently to my lame taunt, growling like he was hacking up phlegm. He shot up like he was gonna smash me. Lord Artis held up a hand to stop him, and he froze immediately.
"I hate dragging things out, so let's get started!"
As his master spoke, he glared at me like he wanted to kill me. A noble's secret weapon… First chance after showing up to flaunt his skills. After what he pulled with Roni, there had to be more to him. No room for carelessness. I planned to carve him up nice and calmly.
On the way to the training grounds for the duel, Roni went to soothe Ellen, who was still out of it. I headed to my master for advice.
Her already porcelain-pale skin had gone even whiter. With a stiff expression, she asked me rigidly,
"Child, what you said earlier… you didn't mean it, right?"
"Master, of course not…! You didn't actually believe it, did you?"
"As long as you didn't. It scared me…"
Oh man, Master Tia…! She had a surprisingly cute side.
But now wasn't the time for explanations—I needed advice. I asked straight up,
"What do you think of that knight's level, Master?"
"Child, he's nothing for you to worry about. Just don't get complacent until victory is sealed."
She said that, but worry dripped from her eyes. I wrapped her small hands in both of mine and answered confidently.
"I'll dedicate this win to you, Master. And I'll try not to get hurt."
"You rascal… How do you get cuter every day, child."
"Hehe."
The corners of Master's lips curved in undisguisable joy. She cleared her throat and emphasized again,
"…I'm truly pleased, but don't show off for this lady… Don't let your guard down until victory is certain."
"Of course. Just trust your disciple."
We'd arrived at the training grounds before I knew it. The time for the showdown was near.
The marble arena must've cost a fortune—its polished floor gleamed so much I worried about slipping.
The hulking silver knight took position opposite me. The spectators around us wore thrilled expressions, like this was a continuation of the banquet hall antics. Entertainment. That summed it up perfectly.
I didn't like it, but these nobles were essential. If Lord Artis tried any bullshit later, they'd serve as witnesses. With them watching, outright cheating or backtracking would be tough.
I drew the swords from my back. Taking a stance with both, light cheers rose from spots in the crowd. First time seeing it, mostly wonderment.
After Ellen chewed me out during her enlistment test, I'd asked Master to help me practice a flashy ready pose. I didn't love showing off, but I hated looking lame.
Meanwhile, the hulking silver knight Chandor drew a massive greatsword. It was so enormous that the ridiculously long zweihänder felt like a longsword in comparison.
"Dodo, I believe in you!!"
Roni waved and cheered.
"Yeah!"
I glanced her way and shouted back, making the stands erupt again. Ladies chanting "Ajeossi! Ajeossi!" while stomping their feet… and guys shooting me gazes like a gladiator under the setting sun. Hope the rumors don't twist weird. Suddenly anxious.
I cleared my mind and focused on the start signal. A neutral third noble gave the gesture—as referee.
Lord Artis just stood on the opposite side.
Silence hung heavy.
"Duel begins!"
The words barely ended when the giant silver knight raised his blade and advanced on me. Not footsteps—thuds closer to booms. Like a charging bull.
"Hmph…"
Of course, nowhere near Master's level. The rotten stink from his helmet gave him presence, but that was it.
As distance closed, the silver knight thrust immediately. A stab exploiting his long reach. The deadly tip snaked toward my breastplate.
No chance. I backstepped lightly and parried.
"Grrrr…"
He growled beast-like and kept stabbing. Surprisingly agile, with real skill. I'd figured brute force from his build.
Of course, I deflected rhythm-game style, alternating my twin blades effortlessly. The standoff repeated.
No idiot could miss it. He realized I was just warming up.
Sure enough, Chandor started snorting and getting rougher.
Huhu… Fragile pride on a weakling.
Exploration phase over abruptly—now attacks mixed with tricks. Twisting his wrist for a screwing thrust, or closing distance for a massive swing.
So obvious, so slow. Compared to Master's feints, yawn-worthy.
As the silver knight rampaged, sparks flew wildly with thunderous booms.
"Ah… Ah!"
Ellen winced like she was taking the hits herself. Cringing at every clash. Kinda funny watching.
The other ladies clueless about swordplay did the same—covering their eyes, flinching. They thought I was losing.
Roni and some guys reacted opposite…
"Dodo… this bastard… didn't expect this much. Hehe…"
Reality: my clear dominance. They could hardly believe it, first real look at me fighting. Enlistment test, I held back mana; Night Walkers, too dark to see.
But toying with famous Knight Slayer Chandor—or whatever—hit home. Me even glancing around? He lost it.
"Graaaah! Raaaaagh!!"
Finally a human scream as he stormed like a tempest. Power up, but… this gap-riddled flurry? One hand sufficed.
Exploration done. Not underestimating—I respected and stayed cautious, dragging it out. Level assessed. Time to end it.
"Hup…!"
Mana burst, lightning leap. Deep into his guard, slicing fluidly. Exposed joints in his plate: ankle, behind knee, armpit—in order.
"Raaaaagh!"
As he crumpled, I thrust into both shoulders. Tip piercing flesh, slicing muscle—thrilling feedback. In a deathmatch, mercy's a luxury.
"Hup!"
Ripped out like carving meat. Gushing blood.
"Kruuuuaaaagh!!"
The slowly collapsing giant was fully neutralized by my finisher. Just twitching on the ground in frustration.
I shook blood from my blade and struck a victory pose—for the central referee.
Not planned, but it made for a flashy, entertaining show.
The referee nodded, face saying acknowledgment, and declared,
"The winner… Lee Dodo!!"
Cheers poured from the stands. Lord Artis slumped, face like the world ended.
Won. Victory official by the ref.
As Master said, only then did I relax and wave to the crowd.
"Child!"
Master suddenly shouted. Chills down my spine—I reacted, but…!
Too late. The silver knight had swept my ankle with monstrous strength. I flew airborne.
"Kgh!"
Superhuman reflexes for a landing roll, but stance crumbled.
Blood streaming from both shoulders, yet he hadn't lost his fight. Should've slit his throat…! Avoiding murder backfired, snowballing.
I protested the ref desperately.
"Ref!! I won! Control this guy!"
"… It's canceled!!"
You fucking motherless bastard ref! Too late for regrets.
"Ptoo!!"
Chandor spat thick black fluid from his mouth. Reeking rot. Stench of every corpse woven together assaulted me.
Instinct screamed: don't get hit. I whipped my sword quick, dispersing the mystery saliva. Blades corroded on contact.
Should've dodged, but half-down? No choice.
"Ughhh…!"
The silver knight poured black saliva on his own wounds.
"Grraaa…!!"
Flesh-sizzling smell rose; he staggered up. Rapid healing visible.
The hulking silver knight gripped his dropped sword.
"Grrr…"
Regaining momentum, Chandor leaped—way faster now. Shit! One hand deflected, other aimed visor gap.
His deathbed frenzy's blow—my corroded sword shattered with a crunch.
"Goddamn it!"
Luckily, acrobatic twist deflected with armor. Left sword's tip chipped too.
Whatever he did… that black spit was lethal. My blades now rusted bars, worse.
Fucked.
Skill edge or not, toying barehanded? Nah. I tossed the useless scrap boldly and proposed,
"Hey, Chandor. Let's fight like men—with fists!"
But… this cheating prick flipped me off in response.
"Kuhuhu…!"