The butler returned shortly thereafter, his expression grave.
"The Duke has agreed to your request," he said solemnly. "But, he invites you to join him for a luncheon feast before the duel."
Kyle nodded curtly, his face set in a grim mask. "I accept," he replied tersely. "I will attend with my companion, Nuna."
The butler inclined his head respectfully. "Very good, sir. If you would follow me?"
Kyle strode after the butler, Nuna falling into step beside him.
But more than that, Kyle felt a deep sense of unease about the whole situation.
The Duke's invitation to lunch before the match seemed almost too convenient, as if he were trying to throw Kyle off balance somehow.
Nuna noticed the tension in Kyle's shoulders and reached out to lay a comforting hand on his arm.
"Don't worry," she murmured, her voice low and reassuring.
Kyle managed a tight smile, grateful for her confidence in him.
As they entered the grand dining hall, his eyes immediately fell upon Noah and the Duke, seated at the far end of the long table.
Noah grinned maliciously as their gazes met, while the Duke simply raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment.
As they approached, the butler announced them formally, "Young Lord Kyle Ravenshade and his escort, Miss Nuna."
"My lord," Kyle and Nuna greeted in a low bow.
The Duke gestured for them to take their seats, which they did without hesitation.
"I hope your journey was not too tiring."
"It was quite enjoyable, if I do say so myself." Kyle smiled sheepishly, and Nuna felt the urge to facepalm, only just barely managing to catch herself.
"I'm pleased to hear that," the Duke said smoothly, raising a silver goblet.
'This guy is shameless.'
Noah snorted quietly from beside him, just loud enough for Kyle to hear.
"I trust your father is in good health?" the Duke asked, voice casual but eyes sharp.
Kyle set down his glass. "He's well, thank you for asking. He sends his regards."
The meal began to arrive, platter after platter of roasted meats, steamed vegetables, and exotic fruits, all laid out with ceremonial precision.
The servants moved silently, practiced in the art of disappearing between glances.
Kyle made small talk when necessary but offered nothing of substance. Every word was calculated, deflecting questions without ever sounding defensive.
Nuna, sitting beside him, played the perfect role of the quiet observer. But her eyes were sharp, catching every flicker of expression between the father and son across the table.
Noah, growing increasingly irritated with each passing minute, finally leaned forward, his voice just loud enough to carry over the table.
"Still hiding behind smiles and words, I see. You won't be so lucky as last time. Let's see if your sword speaks any louder."
Kyle met his gaze, still smiling, calm, composed, completely unbothered.
"Oh, it will. That much, I am sure of." Then, after a beat, he added, "Let's hope yours doesn't stutter."
Nuna choked on her drink. She turned it into a cough, but her shoulders trembled with effort.
The Duke cleared his throat, cutting through the mounting tension like a blade.
"Enough posturing. Save it for the arena." His voice was firm, eyes landing on Noah like a silent warning.
The table fell into a loaded silence, broken only by the sound of silverware against porcelain.
Throughout the meal, conversation remained stilted, with both parties exchanging only brief, polite remarks.
Kyle kept a close eye on Noah, who seemed to be enjoying every moment of the anticipation building up to their duel.
Finally, when the last course had been cleared away, the Duke stood up, signaling the end of the luncheon.
"It is time," he said firmly. "Let us proceed to the grounds where you shall settle your differences once and for all."
With a nod, Kyle rose from his seat, Nuna by his side.
The Duke stood and gestured for them to follow. As they walked through the lavish halls of the mansion, he asked casually.
"What is your weapon of choice, if I may ask?"
Kyle replied curtly, "A one-handed longsword. "
The Duke nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Excellent. You both use swords, I will be the one to proctor your duel, to prevent any 'unfortunate' accidents, I would prefer if no blood was drawn, I would hate if I had to send you back to the Marquis with missing limbs..."
He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
Kyle narrowed his eyes, sensing something was amiss. But before he could react, they reached the grand doors that led out to the hall.
Stepping inside, Kyle took a deep breath of air.
As he looked around at the surrounding area, Kyle couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him.
Something unexpected...
There were a bunch of cultivators in the training room. He frowned, but he eased himself a moment later.
'Oh? I get it, gather up a bunch of your employees to be spectators, humiliate the Ravenshade heir, and then have the news spread by the same people gathered here. A nice plan. Well, guess what bitches? I have a surprise for you.'
Kyle fought the urge to laugh out maniacally. He did manage a small grin, though.
'How foolish. It almost makes me feel sorry for them.'
The group of cultivators bowed in respect to the duke, who nodded in acknowledgment.
Kyle walked calmly to the open space in the middle after Noah.
The Duke surveyed the pair of combatants before him with an approving nod. "Very well, both of you," he declared, his voice ringing out through the expansive space. "I shall be your referee, ensuring that this duel remains fair and within acceptable parameters."
He turned to Noah, his eyes narrowing slightly at the obvious disdain on the young man's face. "Noah," he continued, his tone sharp, "I expect nothing less than a demonstration of your true strength today. Do not disappoint me."
Noah merely grunted in response, his gaze locked onto Kyle with an intensity that spoke volumes.
"I won't need to. This will be over before you know it." He said confidently.
The air crackled with tension as the seconds began to tick down, each one drawing closer and closer to the point of no return.
Noah drew his weapon, a two-handed longsword.
And Kyle did the same, his sword flashed from his storage into his palm. He unsheathed it, the sheath flashing back into storage.
Kyle took his position with quiet assurance, planting his feet shoulder-width apart upon the stone floor. His posture was neither aggressive nor passive; it was centered.
His sword arm rested forward, the blade angled slightly downward, not in weakness, but in deceptive composure, ready to shift in any direction.
His off-hand was relaxed near his waist, poised, ready to redirect, balance, or counter, depending on what the moment required.
His shoulders were loose, but aligned with mathematical precision. His core was firm, breath steady, eyes calm.
His knees were slightly bent, neither locked nor slack, granting both fluid movement and grounded power.
There were no glaring gaps in his form, no wasted energy, no invitation to exploit. Every part of his body was aligned around a single principle: total readiness.
It was a stance that didn't demand attention, but commanded it.
To the untrained eye, it looked too simple to be dangerous.
But to any skilled combatant, it was terrifying in its perfection.
There were no openings. No emotional flare. No overreaches. Nothing to bait or manipulate.
It was the stance of someone who had studied not only how to strike, but how to not be struck. A stance forged through hundreds of battles, through countless hours of refinement, and the quiet understanding that true strength doesn't need to shout.
Even the air around him seemed to be still.
The duke frowned. He could feel it; he was in the presence of a sword prodigy. But...
'Good thing this is not a sword fight. He must have polished his skills to make up for his lack of cultivation. Too bad. There is only so much your skill with the sword can do.'
The Duke's voice rang out like a judge's verdict.
"Begin."
Without hesitation, Noah surged forward, and in the same instant, his aura exploded outward like a detonation of thunder and flame.
A crackling wave of spiritual pressure rippled across the air, dark and oppressive, swallowing the space around him in an invisible storm of power.
Noah's lips curled into a malevolent smile.
His eyes burned with cruel amusement. Even though he had said it, he had no intention of ending this quickly; no, he wanted to break Kyle.
Humiliate him. Let everyone see that the heir of House Ravenshade was a powerless fraud.
'Let him taste despair before I put him down.'
But something was wrong. The sight he was waiting to see never came.
Kyle didn't buckle beneath the weight of his aura. He didn't flinch or stumble.
He stood still, his feet firmly rooted to the ground.
The only change was his eyes narrowing slightly, just slightly, in response to the pressure.
There was no fear.
No panic.
Only the faintest flicker of surprise in his gaze, and then... calm.
Serene.
Unshaken.
Noah's grin faltered.
Kyle tilted his head, studying him like one might a mildly interesting animal at the zoo. Then, with a dry chuckle, he spoke:
"So… you broke through to peak Qi Condensation Realm?"
Noah blinked. "How are you still standing?" he demanded, voice rising. "You have no cultivation! You should be grovelling on your knees before me!"
But Kyle only laughed.
It wasn't arrogant, loud, or mocking.
It was the laugh of someone who had waited for this exact moment.
With deliberate slowness, Kyle lifted his hand, and from his finger, he slipped off a simple, unassuming silver-grey ring.
"You know, there's no freedom quite like the freedom of being constantly underestimated. Let me show you, why underestimating me will be the biggest mistake you will ever make in your life."
The moment the artifact left his skin, the atmosphere changed.