Chapter 16: Duel (1)

Dragon God Year 982, April 20.

It was the day the Stroke Family’s wastrel second son Aiden Stroke turned 15, and also the day he dueled an unnamed regular knight of the family.

The Stroke Family had sent out invitations intending to announce that Aiden, who was outwardly no different from a disowned child, had reformed, but nobles acquainted with Aiden couldn’t help but sneer upon hearing the news.

“That pig worse than swine must have thrown a tantrum at His Grace the Grand Duke because he didn’t want to be dragged to the front lines. He boasted he’d prove his ability in a duel against a knight—doesn’t his desperate struggle look utterly ridiculous?”

“I heard he only picked up a sword for the first time three months ago. A guy who lived immersed in alcohol and gambling until then—what guts does he have to duel?”

“Who knows? Maybe that wastrel possesses talent like the Thousand-Man Slayer swordsman Regenshauer and mastered Energy Armor in just three months!”

“Count Telvani, your joke goes too far. Haha!”

Some of the invited nobles exchanged mocking jests about Aiden.

Other nobles quietly waiting for the duel to begin in the corners didn’t join in but passively went along with the atmosphere.

Yet there were also those swallowing their anger at such gossip.

“That…!”

“Hold it, Jimmy. No matter what we say, they’ll just nitpick.”

The group of apprentice knights who had watched Aiden vomit blood while training in the grounds, sparred with the reformed him, or received an apology letter stamped with the family seal and felt strange awe—that was them.

Though Aiden had consecutively won spars against them, it was all unofficial.

The repercussions were extremely minimal.

One reason rumors didn’t spread was Litton’s displeasure at his younger brother’s reputation changing and his external gag order, but even if someone heard it by chance, most dismissed it as nonsense or suspected cowardly tricks.

The exception was those who witnessed it directly.

The father-daughter pair from the Utland Family currently seated in the VIP section of the training ground were such.

“Aiden can win, right?”

“Already worrying about your fiancé long before the duel starts? Tsk tsk, they say raising daughters is useless, and you’re exactly that.”

Though his tone seemed sulky, Elvio’s expression showed satisfaction.

He was waiting for his daughter to bear the seed of her designated partner as soon as possible and give him a grandchild.

Chesa, who understood her father’s intentions, made a bitter expression and soon shifted her gaze to the arena where the duel would unfold.

About 3 weeks ago, she had succeeded in properly casting a spell for the first time in her life.

The elixir Aiden had suddenly given her was real.

Of course, the effects of the Processed Yin-Yang Tea were only temporary.

But Aiden, who gave her the drug, seemed to know a way to completely solve her Mana Sensitivity Disorder, and that fact made Chesa feel even greater thirst.

Anxious, she stamped her feet waiting for reunion with Aiden.

And on one hand, she couldn’t understand her own attitude.

…This is absolutely not liking that guy romantically. At most, it’s goodwill toward a benefactor who gave a clue to solving the disorder, and as a childhood friend!

Having received pressure from her father about the engagement, she inwardly harbored strong resistance to romantic feelings between men and women.

Yet whenever she thought of the childhood friend who threw her hope to dream of being a mage again, she couldn’t help but feel her heart warm for some reason.

“…Do your best.”

She quietly sent a word of encouragement to Aiden, who would be in the waiting room.

***

About 10 minutes before entering the training ground, while checking my physical condition in the waiting room, Linia suddenly entered and said.

“Young master. A guest has come.”

“What? Who at a time like this?”

“Um… His Grace Grand Duke Foden Stroke and Lord Ebel Stroke.”

No, Foden aside, Ebel?

Aiden’s great-uncle, one of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes?

Why is that man suddenly looking for me?

Irritation suddenly surged.

“Are there people this inconsiderate? Why come disturb right before the duel?”

“Y-young master. The two are right outside the door. Please refrain from rough language.”

“No need to stop me since they already heard everything, miss.”

A sudden unfamiliar voice.

Abruptly, two men entered the waiting room.

One was my father, Foden Stroke, and the other was a muscular old man with thick white hair.

So that grandfather must be the mid-sword Ebel Stroke.

As a member of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes, he was known to value honor and be belligerent like a northern knight.

But contrary to his reputation, he wasn’t a character with much presence in the original work.

Ebel tsked at me.

“I heard you were repenting past mistakes and striving to change. But from what I see, that damn temper is still the same.”

“Uncle.”

At Foden looking at him reproachfully, Ebel shut his mouth.

Then he scanned me up and down and said with a cough.

“Ahem… but you did put in effort, shedding all that flab. I’ll acknowledge that much.”

“I’m busy right now. Can’t you quickly state your business?”

Frankly, I don’t particularly like this old man.

I know he wields enormous influence over northern knights, but I still don’t want to curry favor.

That’s because in the original novel, Ebel fully displayed his old-fogy nature and force-fed readers a bowl of sweet potatoes.

Because the protagonist Ephio’s group had once harmed the Riddle and Stroke families, he didn’t lend strength against the final boss faction of part 2, the Schnipfelt family.

Ebel said to me.

“Hm, I only came to warn you.”

“A warning?”

“The regular knight Julio Bass dueling you is a child I personally taught for about half a year. He had excellent qualities. I heard you performed quite well against apprentice knights, but Julio is on a different level from such mediocrities.”

“So you’re telling me to surrender? If that’s a joke, it’s not very funny.”

“No. Since you’ll lose anyway, struggle all you want. Depending on how long you hold out, I might specially take you as my direct disciple.”

Hold out against Julio?

Take as direct disciple?

Hearing that, I realized why Foden brought Ebel to the waiting room.

“…Your Grace. If I lose this duel, you plan to send me to the Refilord border, right?”

Foden silently looked at me.

At the wordless affirmation, I let out a hollow laugh.

“So that’s it…”

The Refilord border is the front line neighboring Shpiol.

The important point is that Ebel Stroke serves there.

The grand duke already knew the relationship between heir Litton and second son Aiden wasn’t good.

Sending Aiden to Shpiol was probably to separate the two before major sibling conflict arose.

But I suddenly reformed and began learning swordsmanship at a terrifying speed.

I emerged as talent too valuable to thoughtlessly send to the military.

Pondering, the grand duke eventually devised a solution.

Entrust Aiden to the Refilord border where Ebel is, instead of Shpiol front.

Not only separating me from Litton, but also allowing swordsmanship training under an excellent master—a brilliant plan.

Probably today’s duel is to create pretext for that.

I thought it strange that the stubborn old man came all this way just because of an invitation from a kid like Litton, but turns out Foden pulled strings behind.

From the look, he knew long ago that Julio was elite knight-level strong.

If Litton knew he schemed hard but was actually dancing on his father’s palm, what face would he make.

The black-hearted grand duke said to me.

“Aiden. Becoming your great-uncle’s direct disciple isn’t a bad condition for you either. So why not leave the mansion and stay a few years? After the issue is resolved, I promise to use you importantly in the family.”

“A noble’s oath is heavy, Your Grace. If I win against the regular knight in today’s duel as promised, I don’t have to go to the front lines, right?”

“…!”

Foden seemed startled at having his own words thrown back.

The situation was complicated in many ways, but the conclusion was simple.

Just win against Julio and live as I please.

Ebel laughed as if amused.

“Julio has already reached elite knight level. Do you really think you can win the duel with your skill?”

“You never know until you try.”

“I heard you achieved considerable in just four months of holding a sword. That’s why you’re overflowing with confidence. But geniuses like you are a dime a dozen on this continent, kid.”

Seems he wants to say something like frog in a well, but I know my limits and this world’s reality better than you.

I proposed to him.

“Then shall we bet on the duel’s outcome?”

“Interesting. What’s the prize?”

“I don’t have much to offer materially, so the loser fulfills any demand of the winner.”

“Ha, if you lose the duel and come to Refilord anyway, you’ll have to follow my orders as commander to the death. In reality, it’s a condition where you lose nothing.”

“So you’re scared I’ll win?”

Poking his pride a bit, Ebel’s expression hardened.

For his honor-valuing personality, it was provocation he couldn’t ignore.

As expected, Ebel bit the bait.

“…Fine. Then let’s do this bet.”

“Don’t back out later.”

I giggled inwardly.

Caught a sucker.

***

The Stroke Mansion’s first training ground.

As the scheduled time arrived, Aiden Stroke appeared there.

In the VIP seats prepared on the outskirts, nobles who received Litton’s invitations from various places were seated, and they all expressed surprise at the wastrel’s appearance different from rumors.

“That’s Aiden Stroke?”

“They said he was a pig that would roll if kicked? Isn’t that exaggeration?”

Though some remaining chubbiness was a flaw, outwardly he looked every bit a noble son of a prestigious family.

As the arena grew noisy, the referee declared.

“From now on, the duel between Julio, third son of the Bass baronet family, and Aiden, second son of the Stroke Family, will begin.”

Buzz

The nobles soon shut their mouths and looked at the stage with eyes full of anticipation.

Anticipation of just how pathetic the wastrel would be.

***

Seeing the nobles sending sneers my way, my brows naturally furrowed.

Those eyes expecting only howily how I’d get beaten felt like attending a villain’s execution.

Well, considering what Aiden did, it’s not wrong.

Julio said to me.

“According to the established duel rules, I will yield the first move to the prince who has not received formal knighting. For 5 seconds after the duel starts, I will only use defensive sword forms.”

“I know the yield rule is almost obsolete even in the church. Is it to save my face since ending the duel at once would be awkward?”

“No. Simply to show the gap between you and me.”

Whooom!

Soon, intangible energy leaking from Julio’s body wrapped around him.

Seeing this, I hardened my expression.

That was Energy Armor, an advanced application of breathing.

An invincible shield impossible to break no matter what against a higher level opponent.

But… I expected this much since seeing his level.

Julio said to me.

“Come.”

“You’ll regret it.”

Smirking and replying thus, the referee declared the start.

I kicked the ground at once and charged at Julio.

The outcome hung on the strike I would soon unleash.

Repeat Alsigima breathing, raise vibrational energy to maximum.

And concentrate all power into the sword.

Alsigima Style first form.

Vileshaker.

Papapak!

In an instant, cracks rapidly formed on Julio’s leisurely expression.

At the same time, his ironclad Energy Armor shattered from within.

Not broken from the front.

The very ‘connection’ forming the Energy Armor collapsed.

“Cough!”

The next moment, he spewed black blood and flew through the air.