Chapter 41: The Fall of Arrogance

Murren, suspended in midair, crashed heavily to the ground.

Fortunately, he’d shielded himself with mana during flight, avoiding serious injury upon landing.

He glared at the Archduke.

What just happened?

Having ascended to 5-star knight status, his strength, speed, and mana control had reached unparalleled heights.

Even against a viscount’s household, few knights could match him.

That’s why he’d charged at the Archduke with such confidence.

But what was that reaction speed?

The moment he moved behind, the Archduke spun and struck with a speed even Murren couldn’t easily counter.

The instant the sword hit—

Had he not infused his armor with mana, the black blade would’ve sliced him in half.

A fluke.

It had to be.

Otherwise, it meant the Archduke, awake for just three months, surpassed a 5-star knight.

In the history of the Ardan Ducal House, no one had reached 5-star status in three months starting from nothing.

The Archduke being stronger than him was impossible.

Yes.

A fluke.

“Commander!”

Knights called out urgently.

He needed to show he was still standing.

He circulated mana through his body. Blue mana surged vibrantly from his sword.

Relief filled the eyes of the knights surrounding the Archduke.

Their Commander had achieved 5-star status.

As expected.

The Commander must’ve been careless.

The Archduke had a hidden trick.

A fluke caused by carelessness.

That’s what it had to be.

All eyes turned to Murren. Baron Jifron was no exception.

Seeing the Commander’s eyes blaze with fury brought relief.

Though the exchange cost him, Murren was still intact.

He wouldn’t be careless again, so the Archduke would soon be subdued.

Murren glared at the Archduke.

There he stood, far off, motionless.

And then—smirking, meeting his gaze.

Blatant mockery.

Grit!

Murren bit his lip. A man with nothing but lineage, acting so arrogantly!

“Don’t interfere!” he roared.

A joint attack?

That thought didn’t cross his mind.

I won’t hold back anymore.

One-on-one.

He’d crush him in this duel. Murren was done being careless.

He circulated mana.

The Ducal House’s pure technique rapidly healed his injuries.

“Haa!”

Murren charged at Ethan. Faster, more precise than before.

Ethan slowly raised his sword.

I’ll end you!

Seizing an angle, Murren thrust at Ethan’s abdomen.

A fatal spot—once pierced, innards would spill.

No armor, not even basic protection. This strike would bring him down.

Murren didn’t doubt his judgment.

But then—

The Archduke’s waist twisted aside.

The movement was clearly slow.

The sharp blade should’ve torn through his abdomen.

Yet—

It sliced only air.

How did he dodge?

There was no time to ponder.

Ethan’s hand seized Murren’s head.

Immense strength crushed his skull.

“Argh!”

He frantically swung his mana-infused sword, slashing wildly.

But none hit Ethan. Dodging with ease, Ethan tapped Murren’s hand.

Numbness spread, as if paralyzed.

Clang!

The sword fell, screaming against the stone floor.

“Your swordsmanship’s pathetic, and your mana breathing is garbage.”

“Argh! Let go!”

“If you’re going to steal techniques, at least learn them properly.”

The man had learned the Ducal House’s mana breathing and swordsmanship.

But he’d merely learned them—his application was abysmal.

His swordsmanship was so obvious, it was like he was announcing his moves.

No wonder Ethan could grab his head barehanded.

Compared to Polton, he’s pitiful.

Polton, the escort knight from the Besos Marquisate. A true knight shone even with basic techniques.

Ethan saw Polton as a proper knight.

He didn’t fully grasp swordsmanship’s essence but was starting to apply it.

Murren, however, seemed like he’d taken a crash course.

To Ethan, whose understanding of the sword was unmatched, he was a toy.

The worst matchup.

That’s why Murren dangled helplessly in his grip.

“Save the Commander!”

Jifron shouted urgently.

If this continued, Murren’s head might burst. Losing a 5-star knight so futilely was unacceptable.

At Jifron’s desperate cry, the stunned knights drew their swords.

As they charged—

“Too late.”

Ethan smirked and tightened his grip. He’d disliked this man from the start.

His eyes had warned, I could cut you down in one stroke, so don’t try anything.

Arrogant, wasn’t he?

At thirty-two, Ethan hadn’t lived an eternal life, but he knew how to handle such men.

Keeping him alive would only cause trouble.

No need to spare him.

Crunch!

With a shattering sound, the struggling Commander’s body went limp.

No…

It can’t be…

Everyone swallowed hard.

It couldn’t be true.

It had to be false.

But when Ethan opened his hand—

Thud!

The knight collapsed, motionless.

“Madness!”

A 5-star knight, dead without landing a proper strike!

Unthinkable, yet it unfolded vividly before them.

One down.

Ethan’s gaze naturally shifted to Jifron.

“Eek!”

Jifron screamed. He realized something was terribly wrong. This wasn’t a fluke.

The Archduke’s skill overwhelmingly surpassed Murren’s, allowing such effortless domination.

A nightmare.

The Archduke wasn’t supposed to be this strong.

Jifron clung to sanity only because he still had numbers.

“Knights, stop the Archduke! Call all the soldiers! Now!”

Two hundred soldiers and over thirty knights.

Surely—

Surely they could stop him.

As Jifron’s eyes trembled—

The knights, regaining focus, blocked Ethan’s path.

One against many.

It seemed the many had the advantage, but only when the one was weak.

To Ethan, a handful of mediocre knights were boringly insignificant.

Thanks to the lesson dealt to their Commander, the knights’ morale was shattered.

“Don’t panic! Maintain the formation! Follow training!” a 4-star knight shouted, commanding the others.

But his own eyes trembled most.

Being a step above the others, he’d seen how one-sided the exchange was.

He hadn’t known the Archduke was such a monster. Even if all the knights here attacked, they might not subdue him—they might be the ones subdued.

Eight knights, following textbook formation, struck from all directions.

A flawless assault, they thought.

But to Ethan—

Utterly pathetic.

Not even mildly interesting.

With one swing—

Clang!

Clang!

Eight swords snapped in half. The nephrion greatsword’s durability, combined with mana-enhanced cutting power, made it so.

“Gasp!”

The last shred of fighting spirit vanished. The knights’ screams drew a sigh from Ethan.

No need for the Crimson Flame Form.

Killing them all might require it.

But few here deserved death.

Most were ordinary knights following the Baron’s orders.

His figure vanished.

Seizing a 4-star knight’s hair, he hoisted him high.

“Spare me! Argh!”

“If you wanted to live, you shouldn’t have looked at me like that.”

A worm who’d forgotten the Ducal House’s grace.

Just like the Commander.

Crunch!

His head burst.

The Commander and deputy were dead.

The knights fell silent.

The Ardan Ducal House.

The heroic lineage that once shook the kingdom.

Their reputation was no lie.

They realized it now.

Meanwhile, soldiers poured in.

Seeing them, Jifron exclaimed with relief.

“Attack him!”

Two hundred armed soldiers.

Surely they could stop the Archduke…

His thoughts halted. The soldiers rebelled.

Rooted to the ground, they didn’t move an inch.

The Ardan Ducal House.

The family that saved the kingdom.

Attacking their heir? The Baron was mad.

Even if Jifron was their commander, attacking a hero was unthinkable.

“We can’t attack the Archduke!”

“I won’t either! How can we repay their grace like this?”

The knight leading the soldiers was stunned.

He’d never seen this. Refusing orders, even dropping weapons—it was absurd.

Damn it!

Jifron realized his mistake.

As a noble, he saw the Ducal House as a sacrificial fool, but commoners thought differently.

Raised on tales of the Ducal House saving the kingdom.

If outsiders felt this way, how much more the Ducal Territory’s people?

They might see the Ducal House as a guardian deity.

He’d been struck by his own axe.

Jifron, face contorted, screamed desperately.

“You fools! Are you mad? Disobedience is death—Eek!”

His tantrum turned to a scream.

The Archduke, greatsword in hand, approached.

“Stop him!”

Despite his desperate cry—

No one in the Inner Castle moved.