Chapter 19 : The Duel – Part 2

«Begin!» —proclaimed the referee with a firm voice, raising his hand.

The old man's words still floated like clouds in the air when Frederick lunged at me, apparently wanting to end it quickly. He drew his sword with a dramatic flourish, as if he were in a play, and let out a confident roar.

I didn't move.

I didn't draw my sword.

I didn't need to.

I watched his charge without emotion. His steps were erratic, his center of gravity poorly balanced. His whole stance was full of openings — like a door left wide open, just waiting to be pierced.

I let out a sigh.

"How disappointing…"

His attack was predictable. It was nothing more than the immature move of a child. With a simple twist of my wrist, I deflected his blade, not even letting it graze me. The blade passed cleanly, sideways, and the lack of resistance caused his body to lose its balance. He stumbled clumsily and fell face down on the ground.

—"What… was that...?" —he muttered, stunned, as he pushed himself back up.

He clumsily dusted himself off, his face red with humiliation. This time, he charged again — angrier. The horizontal slash he launched might've looked sharp and elegant in his mind. In reality, it was rushed and hollow.

I stepped back just half a step, dodging it easily.

I still hadn't touched my sword.

And the murmurs began to rise in the stands:

『What is young Frederick doing…?』

『It's time he stopped playing around...』

Frederick clenched his teeth, furious. His face was red — not from the sun, but from the shame starting to ripple through the very guests he'd greeted so proudly just minutes ago. He launched a flurry of thrusts: fast, but uncontrolled. Blows relying more on speed than aim.

He had strength. Some technique, too.

But that was it.

From the moment he first swung his sword… he had already lost.

This body may not be the one I used to have.

But my soul remembered how to fight.

The years I spent wielding a blade weren't for nothing.

I knew how to kill.

Even if my muscles ached and sweat soaked my shirt…

Once I mark a target, I never let it go.

I dodged every single one of his attacks without stepping back. There was no rush. No thrill. Just a silence that slowly began to center itself around us.

And then… I moved.

A single step forward.

My hand reached for the hilt.

The sound of the blade leaving its sheath cut through the air like thunder.

Before Frederick could react, I was already inside his guard.

I struck his wrist with the back of my blade — not with violence, but with precision.

—Tch…!

CLANG!

Frederick's sword flew through the air, spinning in slow motion before landing several meters away, blade first in the ground.

Silence.

His face froze. He stared at me with wide eyes, as if he couldn't understand what had just happened.

I didn't look at him.

I turned my back.

—"Surrender," —I said, voice low but steady.

Frederick hesitated. He took a step back.

He raised his hand… as if to accept defeat.

And then, he lunged at me.

The murmurs from the spectators were instantly silenced.

But I had already anticipated it. Even a cornered rat bares its fangs.

...

I spun smoothly, and the blade of my sword stopped just inches from his neck. So close the reflection of the steel gleamed in his pupils.

He froze.

All his momentum vanished in an instant.

—"Shit..." —he muttered, stumbling over himself and collapsing to his knees.

—"Last chance. Surrender," —I said, not raising my voice.

—"You… you..." —he stammered.

I looked him in the eyes — and this time, I didn't hold anything back.

I let the pressure bleed out.

No mana. No shouting.

Just the raw, silent killing intent I had cultivated for years.

Cold.

Relentless.

Unflinching.

Frederick trembled.

—"I-I… surrender…" —he finally said, lowering his head, unable to meet my gaze.

I sheathed my sword without another word.

—"I'm done here," —I murmured, unconcerned.

The referee blinked, surprised. Then raised his arm and announced clearly:

—"Victory goes to Daven Riesenhart!"

No sound followed.

Most didn't know how to react.

Frederick remained on the ground, shaking.

His world had crumbled.

The soldiers exchanged awkward glances.

The officers folded their arms with gravity.

Some nobles began to whisper to one another.

And Vivian…

Vivian was staring at me with a smile so sharp and cold it could've been mistaken for a blade.

It didn't matter.

And then—

Clap! Clap! Clap!

A slow, firm applause broke the silence.