Fingers lazily gripping the wooden sword, he paused momentarily, giving Felix a sidelong glance.
"Well, reff… I don't understand what gives you the authority to judge this match when you hide behind the skirt—"
He trailed off, eyes scanning Crusch's body. Unlike the other royal candidates, dressed in feminine outfits designed to accentuate their allure, she stood in her sharp green military uniform, no, armor.
"…of your mistress. So why's a slacker like you in the Royal Guard?"
Crusch's golden eyes narrowed, but she remained silent. It was a clear provocation—only an idiot would take the bait.
A vein throbbed on Felix's temple. It was one thing to be insulted by someone weak, but coming from the very man who had rag-dolled him into a wall, who was now insulting his strength in front of his lady? That stung. He felt the weight of restraint pressing against his tongue, words he could not utter in her presence. He had technically told Crusch the truth about his earlier actions, but only to avoid her divine protection's probing winds. Crimson held all the cards now. If Crusch learned the full truth, her disappointed gaze would be unbearable.
Forcing an unconcerned expression, Felix wagged a finger at the blindfolded boy. Its tip glowed with a blue light.
"Nyow, do you know why? It's 'cause I'm in high demand. Though I don't believe there's any demand for the paste you'll be turned into."
Feigning shock, Crimson pressed a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. His voice rose, theatrically booming:
"Such bias! Are you planning on interfering just because I hurt your feelings?"
He mimed Felix's wagging finger, but instead of Felix's pale blue light, his fingertip flared with radiant yellow, far brighter.
The audience gasped. Many mages instantly recognized the color. The implication was undeniable: Crimson not only wielded rare Yin/Shadow magic, but Yang/Light magic as well. A dual-affinity mage. And combined with rumors of his special Divine Protection of Telekinesis, his potential was staggering. Perhaps… he truly had the means to rival Julius.
Felix's teeth ground together as his eyes darted across the stands. More than a few gazes now turned toward him. But their judgment wasn't his greatest fear. If he broke any rules of the sacred duel, it would reflect poorly on Lady Crusch. That thought alone filled him with more dread than death itself.
Crimson sneered openly at Felix before turning his blindfolded gaze toward Julius, who wore a frustrated expression.
"Are you done with such an uncouth provocation?" Julius asked flatly.
"Uncouth?" Crimson tilted his head in mock innocence. "It was just a question."
"Tch. How shameless. Either you're an actor feigning madness, or a fool courting death. Neither is elegant. This duel will show your true nature."
Crimson nodded sagely, as if Julius had bestowed some great wisdom. Then he chuckled, warm and careless.
Felt's worried voice rang in his ear.
"Bro, what's wrong witcha? Why ya actin' dat way?"
He waved her off lightly with his left hand, the one holding the wooden sword, as if he were simply testing its weight.
"Can I have a non-tampered weapon?" he suddenly called out, raising his voice so the crowd could hear.
The outburst rippled through the arena. Knights shouted back in a mix of aggression, jeers, and suspicion. The majority mocked him openly, their scorn aimed at the blindfolded boy who dared to stand so brazenly against them.
"Hah, if you want to back out just say so."
"What a coward."
"That won't save you."
"Next thing you know, he'll say the reason he lost was that the sun was in his eyes."
The knights couldn't comprehend why anyone would resort to such dirty tactics; their faith in Julius's victory was unbreakable. But on the other end of the spectrum, the people with higher positions, the candidates and their attendants, openly suspected foul play. After all, it made sense for the royal knights to resort to such methods against a man who had tarnished their honor.
Julius could only stare at Crimson in a loss for words. For what purpose did he mention a tampered-with wooden sword? As a man who embodied chivalry, to even imply that he had done something so underhanded shocked him. Either Crimson was continuing to make an even bigger villain out of himself, or he was plotting something, which the latter seemed far more likely.
"Neow neow, nobody likes such a scaredy cat that you would make up such accusations."
Crusch, hesitant, muttered half-heartedly toward the now gleeful Felix. "Wait, maybe you should confir—"
Turning a deaf ear to his lady's concern, Felix continued. "All right, one mew, three."
Turning to the onlookers, Felix raised both hands high and brought them down. At his signal, the parade square erupted in uproarious laughter, pouring scorn on Crimson's earlier words, eager for the first move to be made.
Bathed in laughter, Crimson lazily swung his sword before scraping the sandy floor with it. Julius, watching Crimson's strange behavior, felt a creeping sensation wash over him. He couldn't figure out this boy's plot. Objectively, his movements seemed nonsensical, almost childish. Ignoring Reinhard's warnings only made him appear even more incomprehensible, a natural-born devil's advocate whose true nature was unfathomable. Yet remembering the Sword Saint's words about this boy, whom she had known for less than a month, made him seem, while saintly, far too calculating.
People often revealed a part of themselves in battle. Julius resolved that he would gauge not just this boy's strength, but his very nature.
"Shall we begin?" Julius's voice came out strained as his eyes caught Reinhard's, the Sword Saint's blue irises fixed entirely on Crimson with a sickly fervor.
Approaching slowly, Julius waited for the boy to make a move. Yet Crimson only continued to write in the dirt with his wooden sword, head angled downward, knees bent, as if oblivious to everything around him. An itch of irritation clawed at Julius, forcing a sharp breath through his teeth before he steadied himself.
"You might not have heard, but the duel has begun. Let us begin."
Julius had no desire to win dishonorably, even if by his opponent's carelessness. But even after hearing his words, Crimson made no movement to ready himself or take a stance.
"Start whenever."
The blindfolded boy's voice came out far deeper than Julius had expected, startling him. If before Crimson's personality had been one of a sarcastic jester, it now carried the weight of a teacher. In that moment, the boy's impression shifted into something aged, someone far more experienced than he appeared.
The image of Wilhelm flickered in Julius's mind. Out of wariness, he took a step back before regaining his composure and slowly closing the distance.
The fact that Crimson had not blindly rushed to face him already proved his cautiousness. If Julius were to claim a flawless victory, he would need to gauge his opponent. Now, just meters away from Crimson, Julius made a sharp lunging stab at the seemingly oblivious boy. It contained only twenty percent of his true speed, but with a real blade, it was still strong enough to pierce iron.
Something strange happened.
Crimson shifted simultaneously with Julius's lunge, raising his wooden sword. With a perfect parry, he let Julius's practice blade skid harmlessly aside, guiding the momentum so that Julius's own head veered toward Crimson's waiting point. If he continued, he would impale himself.
Eyes widening at the flawless counterattack, Julius slammed his forward leg into the sandy ground, vaulting upward with the lunge's momentum. He flipped in a wide arc over Crimson's head, narrowly dodging the counter-thrust.
In the midst of his flight, Julius's sharp gaze caught peculiar divots carved into the ground, recent marks made by Crimson's practice sword. Unable to comprehend such foresight, Julius swung hard at the divots midair. The cut unleashed a wind slash with enough force to cleave stone.
The blow struck the altered ground, detonating a belated sandblast that obscured Julius's vision. Landing with a thud, Julius swung his sword in a wide horizontal sweep, clearing a full 120 degrees of sand with effortless precision.
Julius tensed. A silent patter on his left, he reacted instantly, delivering a diagonal downward strike at thirty percent of his strength. The blade only dispersed more sand.
Then pressure behind him.
Julius spun just in time, catching a horizontal strike aimed for his calf. Crimson crouched low, squatting at dust-level, his blindfold pulled down over his mouth as a makeshift mask. Yet his eyes still remained shut; he looked genuinely surprised that Julius had managed to intercept. Slowly, his closed eyes curled into crescent arcs of amusement.
With the dust now settling, Crimson saw no more need for the blindfold mask. With one hand, he raised it back toward his face. Julius moved to retreat, then stumbled.
Something caught his foot.
Looking down in shock, Julius saw Crimson's ankle fully extended, blocking the path of his backward step. The gesture of raising the blindfold had been nothing but bait, a distraction to pull Julius's attention away from the waiting trap.
Julius's thoughts raced. His opponent's intelligence was terrifying. He used every motion against his enemy, combining awareness with a kind of foresight that bordered on mind-reading.
Leaning back into his fall, Julius slammed his palms into the ground and kicked his legs upward, a desperate attempt to strike Crimson if he foolishly closed in. But Crimson did not.
Flipping fully into a handstand, Julius regained his balance and righted himself.
Both men stood, weapons lowered but tension razor sharp, staring each other down.
Crimson's expression remained serene, yet a single bead of cold sweat traced down the bridge of his nose. Neither had landed a blow, but the clear winner of that brief exchange had been him.
Priscilla, who had watched the entire clash unfold in less than three seconds, flicked open her fan, hiding her lips behind its painted surface.
"It seems," she drawled, "that the clown is quite the capable one. Yet the pretty boy hasn't gone all out. Tell me, Al, I want to hear the thoughts of a brainless oaf with nothing but muscle where his wit should be."
Al shrugged beneath his helmet, his voice steady but tinged with unease.
"Well, Princess… it looks to me like that guy's at a major disadvantage. Julius can't use his spirits here, but that kid's primary weapons are his Authority and magic."
At the mention, Anastasia's eyes narrowed with sharp suspicion. Across from her, Roswaal raised a hand to his painted face, voice musing.
"Oooh… how interesting. So it was an Authority after all. The question is—" his mismatched eyes glimmered "—which Witch Factor does it tie back to, I wonder?"
Crusch stiffened at the words. Authorities. Witch Factors. Her thoughts immediately leapt to the Witch's Cult. Could the blindfolded boy be connected to them?
Thump.
Al buckled to his knees, clutching at his dented helmet. Priscilla's foot rested atop the blackened steel, still raised high from the blow she had struck without hesitation.
"If you insist on divulging such sensitive information, keep your voice down, you blathering fool," she hissed, disdain dripping from every syllable.
Meanwhile, Reinhard observed the scene as though time itself had slowed. Her hand unconsciously clenched around the wooden guard rail until it cracked and splintered beneath her grip. Crimson… he was by far the most intelligent fighter Reinhard had ever seen, yet his physique was that of a fit civilian at best. Compared to Julius's refined body, it was a mouse facing down an elephant.
And that exchange just now, Julius had severely limited his speed and strength, deliberately holding back so as not to cripple his opponent. But now… now Julius was beginning to take her lord seriously. He wouldn't hold back anymore. He might even resort to mana enhancement.
Her sharp blue gaze flicked to the referee. Felix stood rigid, a scowl plastered across his face. Reinhard's jaw set as she sent her words straight into his mind through the Divine Protection of Telepathy.
(If Lord Crimson is permanently crippled because you chose not to end this fight… I will not only kill you, Felix Argyle, but also the lady you serve.)
If it truly came to that, she wasn't sure if she would go through with it, but it was good to make that cat have enough caution to avoid doing something he would regret.
Felix froze. The chilling voice reverberated in his head, alien yet undeniable. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, ears twitching involuntarily in Reinhard's direction, though he dared not meet her eyes.
(AN: So, I underestimated college, and I am now paying the price. I'm cooked 😭. The first day, I was given three assignments from a single class that were due in two days. The estimated time for completion on one assignment was 3.5 hours, and I have four classes.
This was my first in-depth fighting scene, so let me know your thoughts.