Duel with a Knight
A heavy, oppressive silence filled the air. The tension became almost tangible, as if reality itself had frozen in anticipation of a bloody spectacle. Even the world around them seemed to lose its color, as if a gray filter had been placed over the canvas of life.
Reinhard's piercing gaze studied his opponent intently. Caleb stood with his sword in a relaxed stance, a faint, mocking smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held confidence and disdain. He wasn't taking the duel seriously, convinced that a mage could never match a knight in combat without magic.
"Fool..." Reinhard thought.
Caleb believed he was merely playing a game, but he had no idea he was standing before a true predator—before someone who would never lose.
One!
In an instant, Reinhard lunged forward. The ground beneath him trembled from his sudden movement, and he struck first, aiming directly for his opponent's throat.
Clang!
The sharp ring of metal shattered the deathly silence of the room.
At the last moment, Caleb jerked back—the blade passed mere millimeters from his skin, leaving only a whisper in the air. But Reinhard gave him no time to think—he immediately spun and delivered a vertical strike from above.
Slash!
The blade tore through the skin on Caleb's face, and warm crimson blood trickled from his right eye. He staggered back, gritting his teeth against the pain.
— You…! — he hissed, pressing a hand to his wounded face.
But no one pitied his pain. Reinhard was already upon him again, delivering a swift and precise thrust!
Rip!
The sound of flesh tearing echoed through the room, and blood splattered onto the floor.
His blade pierced Caleb's side, staining the silver steel red. Caleb roared in pain, but, biting down hard enough to draw blood, he instantly countered with a downward strike.
Whoosh!
Reinhard felt a sharp sting in his shoulder—his skin split open, leaving a deep gash.
Both fighters staggered back, their eyes locking. Caleb was breathing heavily, his face twisted in pain, but his gaze now burned with rage. He no longer saw "just a mage" before him.
— Good… So that's how you play, heir… — he exhaled, ripping off the upper part of his armor. — Then I won't hold back either!
Reinhard only smirked in response.
The battle entered a new phase.
Caleb charged forward, his sword flashing through the air in a series of fast and powerful strikes. The clang of steel filled the training hall, forcing the spectators to watch in stunned silence, unable to look away.
Reinhard parried gracefully, but even he could feel his opponent's strength rising.
Clang!
Caleb's blade scraped against Reinhard's sword, and in that moment, he delivered a brutal kick.
BAM!
Reinhard was thrown back several meters, but he landed on his feet, rolling swiftly before launching another attack.
Step! Thrust! Turn! Strike!
Their blades clashed once more, their battle resembling an elegant dance of swords.
Whoosh!
Caleb unleashed a sudden horizontal slash, and Reinhard barely dodged, but not completely—a deep gash opened on his side.
Blood splattered onto the stone floor.
Ignoring his wounds, Reinhard ducked low and struck upward, forcing Caleb to retreat.
Now, both were wounded.
The spectators held their breath. They no longer saw a spoiled heir and an overconfident knight—they were witnessing a battle between true swordsmen.
Reinhard took a deep breath, his cold eyes gleaming.
— Time to end this.
He burst forward, his sword vanishing from Caleb's sight for a fraction of a second, and then—
SWISH!
In a blink of an eye, Caleb was on his knees.
Clang!
His sword slipped from his grasp and hit the ground with a dull thud.
Reinhard stood before him, his blade pressed against his opponent's throat.
A thin stream of blood trickled down.
Caleb froze, his eyes widening in shock.
The entire room fell silent.
— You lost.
Reinhard's voice held no anger, no satisfaction—only the unshakable confidence of a victor.