"I want you to duel me, bastard!"
The crowned heir's words silenced every whisper.
Although everyone perceived the little jest in his tone, there was no doubt he meant every word.
For a noble of his standing to challenge a commoner struck everyone with surprise.
"Did I not speak loud enough?"
The young lord's presence was extremely overwhelming, so no one dared utter a word in reply.
"I said you—silver hair. Duel me. Right now."
All heads turned once again to the boy who had somehow caught the attention of the Duke's son.
There the boy was, just standing in stunned silence.
Darien himself had never imagined being singled out like this, and never by someone so far above his ground-level station.
He fought to remain composed with everyone's attention on him.
"My Lord, the victors may still be catching their breath… perhaps it would be wise to allow them a moment."
The examiner, the seasoned knight, carefully suggested to Vincent.
He really thought this was an absurd moment, and even Vincent's father wouldn't accommodate it.
Even from above, the man in the violet-trimmed dress, who shared the booth with Vincent earlier, spoke loudly.
"Young lord, there's little worth in wasting a royal's time on tired, peasant bones."
But Vincent didn't heed anyone.
His bright gaze remained fixed on Darien, defying their words because he knew the weight of his own royal title.
No one spoke further as he said:
"I choose whom I fight. C'mon chap."
Vincent was a promising swordsman for his age.
He was on the path of magehood, but he still had natural grace with various weapons, and this attracted a lot of praise to him beyond the rare mystical affinity he had awakened.
So, as prideful as he was, watching Darien, who hadn't been upskilled by the Academy yet, have some raw talent ignited something fierce within him.
The need to measure himself against the bastard's potential burned too loud to ignore.
Darien understood this was a royal order, not a simple matchmaking, so he stepped forward without hesitation.
'Okay… let's see who's the better swordsman. I bet you're not as learned as me in weapon proficiency….'
Darien thought as he strode calmly, closing the distance to share a three-meter radius with the Duke's son.
With a silent arena, hushed with anticipation and anxiety, both boys stood opposite each other—one with a regular katana, one with a mighty royal magical longsword.
The crowned Earl had good height, fine blonde hair, and light yellow eyes that enhanced his handsomeness.
In contrast, the bastard was short, but he possessed otherworldly features that could never be described.
(Item Name: Luminara)
(Type: Weapon/ Sword)
(Rank: Rare)
(Affinity: Light)
'This. A Rare weapon like mine...'
Darien's eyes clung to the blade.
Although its skills weren't activated, he believed he could feel it—radiant, a second sun brought down to earth.
He wondered what level of its power it had been upgraded to, and what skills exactly the weapon possessed.
Darien could only guess, but for Vincent to wield it, it was most likely he had awakened Light.
That golden hue in his eyes wasn't decorative. His pride, his polished stance—they all attributed to it. Darien had no doubt.
All eyes locked as the fight finally broke.
The first move was from Vincent. He swiftly leaned forward, his sword gliding parallel to the sands, across the air, as he launched the opening strike.
The bastard slipped aside with ease.
A few gasped, acknowledging how close that was.
Some already assumed the royal blade granted agility and enhanced flow, an edge for the Duke's son born of elite blood.
It moved like silk, and Vincent carried it as if it were a natural limb. But what they didn't know was that Darien was already leagues ahead in that department of physical finesse.
Calm and composed, Vincent smiled when Darien eluded him. He didn't expect any less for an attack that readable. But his smile quickly changed when the same boy lunged at him.
He straightened on his heels and met the strike—blade against blade with a sharp, resounding clang.
Darien caught the surprise in his opponent's eyes. His opponent definitely didn't expect him to be that strong!
Both fighters recoiled by parrying away cleanly, but Vincent gave no pause and sprang forward again on the balls of his feet.
Using a soft, imperceptible burst from
While eleven inches airborne, he flicked his katana and klinked the Duke's sword skyward, cleanly disarming him.
Gasps broke out as the royal blade spun in the air, gleaming for all to see.
And before it could even land, Darien was already forward, and he held the crowned heir at bladepoint.
Several templars instinctively drew their weapons halfway in response to Vincent's sudden peril. It was a reflex from years of protecting the noble bloodline.
When Darien released his blade, they sheathed theirs.
The entire crowd was stunned.
"Did he just disarm him mid-air?"
"I almost missed it—how the hell did he even move like that?"
"I thought Young Lord had it in the bag…"
"That bladepoint was so clean… he didn't even nick him. Damn."
No claps came after Darien's victory, only heavy silence with distant murmurs.
A foreign-born bastard had just disarmed the crowned Earl, and the Rare-tier weapon of the Velgrane family lay abandoned on the sand, glinting with disgrace.
The examiner's expression didn't change. He was immensely disappointed in Vincent, not for losing, but for starting this in the first place.
Even the violet man in the booth sighed and lowered himself into his seat.
It seemed the Duke's son was well known for his pride, temper, and refusal to accept anything less than dominance.
"Again!"
The young man hollered.
Yanking his sword back from the sand, he lunged at Darien.
'Yep… he's that guy in every novel. The 'I'll never accept losing' kind. Knew it.'
Darien made sure to keep those words in his thoughts alone as he weaved past the reckless swing from his aggravated opponent.
There were one, two desperate clangs of steel, but Vincent's fury made his strikes loud and readable.
4-star Elite swordsmanship wasn't even really needed in the second round as Darien slipped through an opening with ease.
Gently, he tapped the edge of his katana once to the chest, once to the neck, and once to the back.
Each courteous touch was a clear sign that the future Duke of Eldermead would have been dead three times over if this were a real duel.
'I win again.'
"Perhaps, young Lord, it is time you learned that rage is not the same as clarity?"
Vincent angrily looked up at the man in violet who spoke.
He wanted to retort, but he understood that the man was right—he had let his fury take over.
Looking around the arena, Vincent noted how everyone was glaring at his failure.
Once again, the bastard had won—stress-free, unshaken. And he stood there, humiliated, but with Luminara in hand this time at least.
'How is he able to move like that? I am better than every Year 1 student, and I'm placed third even among Year 2s, and yet… this bastard doesn't look like he's even trying. It doesn't make sense. How the hell is he this far ahead of me?'
Vincent thought as he clenched the golden hilt of his weapon tighter, assessing Darien with burning repression.
He took a deep breath and focused, believing he had gotten ahead of himself and had underestimated this strange-looking brat.
This time, he said calmly:
"Again…"
Darien gave the crowned heir some courtesy by attacking first, understanding it wasn't good to further test his pride after two humiliating defeats.
To Vincent's credit, the difference was clear.
Gone was the erratic flailing and overzealous rage; now, there was focus, there was caution, and above all, there was restraint.
His movements were tighter, more defensive, and his swordplay finally began to reflect the rank he boasted of.
But even then, Darien remained the superior. His tempo dictated the rhythm of the clash, and Vincent wasn't exactly ready to be on the receiving end, while Darien was on the offensive.
A few students constantly flinched at the sound of steel grazing. The brat was actually pressing on the young Lord this time around.
Surprisingly, Vincent parried all at slight margins. He only encountered a few slits to his sleeves.
Then came a gap he managed to create by reflex.
Taking it, Vincent swept a sharp arc low toward Darien's side, angling for the stomach.
But the brat's reflexes were too honed. He twisted, klinked the blade away with the narrowest bend of his wrist, then stepped aside, completely unbalancing the young Lord's posture.
Vincent stumbled forward as his footing collapsed under him. Darien tapped him softly on his back.
'Quite pathetic for a noble with regular training…'
Darien thought.
Afterwards, he couldn't help but do what he did.
Lifting his foot, he nudged Vincent's arse forward, and the Crowned heir fell into the sand.
Shock rippled through the arena, leaving almost everyone mouth-dropping. The humiliation was too great to ignore, freezing everyone as they couldn't decide what to do next because such a thing hadn't happened before.
To shove a royal-born from the rear? Onto the sand?
Darien stood proudly behind his fallen foe, not fearing whatever reprimand might come his way. As long as he didn't hurt the Duke's son, he believed he fought fair.
"Arghhhhh! I will kill you, bastard!"
Vincent growled from the sand, grunting with rage as he spun around.
His palm flared with Energy, and a dense burst of bright whitish-gold light erupted from his hand.
'Gasp!'
Darien didn't even have enough time to react to it. He could only drag his katana lengthwise as the beam smashed into it.
The small shockwave kicked up some dust, and Darien's frame fell backwards in anguish.
"THAT WILL BE THE END OF IT!"
As the sudden light condensed, a commanding voice suddenly rang out from the booth.
It was the Baron of Lanthold, a man long very close to the Duke, their Clans intertwined. Because of this, he held considerable sway over Vincent.
The moment his voice cut through the tension, everyone turned.
Vincent's face twitched with a mixture of resentment and restraint, but without a word, he snarled and stormed off the arena, leaving Darien groaning on the sand in pain.
'Urgh— that hurt. How much health did I lose just from that? I swear I almost died.'
Darien looked at the state of his katana. Only the hilt remained in place; the blade was shattered into several fragments.
A figure walked over to him and offered a hand to help him up. It was the head examiner.
"Welcome to the Academy, Number 307."