The Way of Knight
Chapter 27 – Duel Under the Lion's Shadow
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The morning sun cast sharp beams over Marquis Helbrecht's training yard. The air smelled of steel and sweat, punctuated by the clash of wooden swords, the shouts of squires, and the dust kicked up by their drills.
Fenrir stood at the center of the arena, his body tense but his eyes steady. Before him stood Reinhard—golden-haired, sharp-eyed, and overflowing with pride. The young knight gripped a blunt steel sparring sword, his smirk radiating arrogance.
"Swamp-born brat," Reinhard sneered. "You dared challenge my words yesterday. Today, I'll show you the gulf between a true knight and a lucky child."
Fenrir raised the training blade he had been given. The grip was rough, the weight unfamiliar compared to his weapon back in Eisenwald—but it would suffice.
Around them, Helbrecht's retainers and squires gathered in a circle. Whispers rose among the crowd: some mocking, some curious. Everyone wanted to know if the "Wolf of Eisenwald" was mere rumor.
"Begin!" barked one of the instructors.
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Reinhard lunged forward like a striking hawk, his sword slicing down toward Fenrir's shoulder. Swift, heavy, filled with youthful confidence.
Clang!
Fenrir brought his blade up, intercepting the blow. The impact rang in his bones, steel shuddering against steel. Reinhard's smirk widened.
"Not bad… for a peasant pup."
Fenrir shoved backward, stepping aside, his eyes calculating.
Reinhard came again, this time a straight thrust aimed for Fenrir's chest. Fenrir pivoted, letting the blade glance past, then countered with a quick slash. Reinhard parried easily, spinning into a series of furious strikes.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks of aura shimmered with each clash. Reinhard's aura—icy blue, rigid and forceful—coated his sword. Fenrir's, deep crimson like molten lava, pulsed with heat every time he met the knight's blows.
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Reinhard pressed harder, each swing like a hammer driving Fenrir into retreat. His strikes were not only fast but drilled with knightly precision.
"Yes! That's right!" Reinhard taunted, his voice rising above the clang of blades. "Keep defending! It's all you're good for!"
Fenrir endured, blade shuddering with each impact. Yet his eyes remained calm, waiting.
Onlookers shouted encouragement. "Crush him, Reinhard!" "End this quickly!"
But others whispered, uneasy. "The boy still stands…" "He hasn't faltered once."
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Fenrir waited for an opening. Reinhard, overconfident, left his side slightly exposed after an overhand swing.
Fenrir stepped in, thrusting toward his midsection. Reinhard's eyes widened as he barely caught the attack on his hilt.
Bam!
The shock pushed both back a step. Reinhard hissed. "You—!"
Fenrir's lips curved. "Strength isn't enough. You leave yourself too open."
Snarling, Reinhard flared his aura, blue light rippling like frost across his blade.
Fenrir's aura surged in response. Crimson—dense, molten, suffocating—engulfed his weapon. The training yard fell silent at the sight.
A boy of thirteen, yet his aura radiated like molten magma.
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Reinhard roared, charging. Fenrir met him head-on.
BOOM!
Their swords collided, blue and red aura exploding outward. Dust blasted across the yard, some spectators shielding their faces from the force.
Reinhard bore down, veins bulging at his neck. "You cannot match a knight!"
Fenrir turned his blade, redirecting the force, then slashed at Reinhard's shoulder.
Crack!
The sparring armor split slightly, sending Reinhard stumbling.
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Fenrir didn't press wildly. He knew Reinhard had raw strength on his side. Instead, he circled, countering only when Reinhard's rage left openings.
Each miss made Reinhard more furious, his swings growing wild.
Anger is the greatest opening, Fenrir thought.
When Reinhard leapt in with a heavy overhead slash, Fenrir dropped low, spun, and struck his side.
Bam!
Reinhard staggered, dropping to his knees, his sword clattering to the ground.
The arena went silent.
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Reinhard gasped for breath, face red with humiliation. "You… you cheated!"
Fenrir stood over him, blade still in hand. "On the battlefield, there is no cheating. Only victory or defeat."
Whispers broke into murmurs, then roars. Some jeered at Reinhard, others marveled at Fenrir.
From the balcony above, Marquis Helbrecht had watched it all. A faint smile touched his lips. "That wolf cub… he truly has fangs."
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The System Speaks
As Fenrir lowered his blade, the familiar chime echoed in his mind.
🔔 Ding!
Quest Progress Updated!
[Secure the Marquis' Favor] – Your duel has impressed Helbrecht. (Progress: 50%)
[Navigate Noble Intrigue] – Rival established: Reinhard, Knight Fang of Helbrecht. (Progress: Ongoing)
Fenrir glanced at Reinhard still kneeling in the dirt. In his eyes, this wasn't merely a defeated rival—it was the first stone in his climb.
Today, I am no longer just a swamp-born boy. Today, the Lion of Helbrecht knows the wolf can bite.
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