Drake dodged the first two aura slashes.
But the third caught his left arm — and Selom's sword crashed directly down onto his shoulder.
*CLUNGGG!*
The sound echoed through the hall. It didn't sound like steel cutting flesh. It sounded like a blade striking a solid iron anvil.
Drake's head jerked back. The left sleeve of his shirt ripped entirely away and fell to the floor. The exposed skin underneath had turned a burning, deep red. Faint white steam began to hiss into the air.
"He activated aura?" Sir Alrent whispered.
But the judges weren't looking at any blue light. They were staring at the boy's skin. The exact same thought crossed all three of their minds.
*The Red Monster. Unbelievable.*
Drake's left arm was practically glowing red. Even his steel sword seemed to catch the heat — faintly glowing at the edges.
Selom, who had put everything into that strike only to give Drake a mere scratch, stared in horror. "Just... give up!"
"He he he..."
A low, breathy laugh. Drake didn't blink. He just stared straight at Selom.
Selom subconsciously took a step back.
Drake gripped his sword with both hands, brought it down to his left side, and shifted his foot back into a stance.
Sir Belmore, who had been watching quietly, narrowed his eyes. *That technique...*
*Swashh. Clung!*
Drake launched a direct, heavy diagonal strike. Selom managed to bring his sword up — but the sheer force pushed him back a full step.
"You bastard!" Selom swung from above in a desperate counterattack.
*Clung!*
"He he he."
Laughing like a complete maniac, Drake didn't just block. He tilted his blade slightly — letting Selom's sword slide harmlessly off. Then, using the momentum, he spun his entire body. The tip of his sword sliced cleanly across Selom's side.
Selom hissed and retreated, completely embarrassed.
"What are you doing?!" Pellamio bellowed from the sidelines. "Hit him!"
"Shut up, Father!" Selom snapped.
Selom stepped back and raised his sword high. Drew a deep breath. "Pellamio—"
"You talk too much."
Drake closed the distance in a flash and drove his knee straight into Selom's stomach.
*Bamm!*
Selom's eyes bulged. Blood rushed into his mouth — he bit it back. Blinded by rage, he swung his aura-coated sword wildly — landing a direct hit on Drake's shoulder.
*CLUNNGGG!*
It didn't even faze Drake. He just stood there — taking the hit — smiling like a psycho.
The entire room went dead silent.
Flipping his grip, Drake drove the heavy iron pommel of his sword straight into Selom's ribs — backed by the pure, terrifying force of his Iron Body.
*CRACKKK!*
A sickening snap echoed through the hall. Selom's ribs broke.
Pellamio froze.
As Selom folded over in agony, Drake brought his elbow down like a hammer onto Selom's shoulder.
*BOOMM!*
Selom crashed to the stone floor — out cold.
But Drake wasn't in his right mind. The steam was blinding him. The thrill had taken over completely. He raised his sword high — aiming straight for Selom's exposed neck.
Pellamio stopped breathing. *"I SURRENDER!"* he shrieked.
A massive hand grabbed Drake's wrist mid-swing.
Sir Belmore had crossed the floor in the blink of an eye. "That is enough." His voice was firm but not unkind. "You fought well."
Arthur, standing on the sidelines, let out a small, quiet smile.
*It was bound to happen. Blood doesn't lie. Like father, like son.*
Drake stood completely still — head bowed. Thick steam poured off his skin.
"If you want to—" Sir Belmore started.
Drake pitched forward.
The steam faded. His skin returned to normal. His energy drained completely — all at once.
Jack was the first to run onto the field. John and Arthur followed immediately. But Sir Belmore had already caught the unconscious boy.
John began casting healing magic on both boys without a word.
---
The three judges stood.
"The heir of Velrend is victorious!"
Jack, John, and the Velrend guards broke into loud applause. On the other side of the hall, Pellamio's face had gone tomato red. He was completely speechless.
The judges grouped together, voices low.
"I didn't think a monster like that existed in the countryside," Sir Alrent muttered.
"That talent is something else entirely," Sir Vane agreed.
Sir Belmore crossed his arms. "Hmm. But his technique..."
"A perfect mix of martial arts and swordsmanship," Sir Vane added.
Sir Belmore's eyes narrowed slowly. "But his swordsmanship technique..." He paused. "Doesn't it feel somewhat familiar?"
The other two went quiet. They looked at each other.
Neither of them said anything more. But the look that passed between all three of them said enough.
"Immense potential," Sir Alrent said finally, choosing his words carefully.
"Could he become a champion?" Sir Vane asked.
---
Just then, Sir Belmore noticed Pellamio quietly inching toward the exit.
*"Ahem."*
"Let us discuss the reward."
Pellamio stopped cold. "Aha ha... hehe... Sir, that was just a mistake. It was only a fight between children—"
"Shut up, Mr. Pellamio." Sir Belmore's voice dropped — heavy and dangerous. "Do you think this is a joke? Violating Knight Laws is grounds for execution. Right here."
*Tch.* Pellamio ground his teeth. "But I don't have the money right now. It will take time. And I don't even have paper or ink—"
"Oh, don't worry about that."
Arthur signaled to Jack. Jack immediately produced a fresh sheet of paper, a bottle of ink, and a writing tool from his bag — already prepared.
Pellamio stared at them. Completely cornered.
With a face like a man attending his own funeral, he signed. The contract stated clearly — if he failed to deliver the equivalent gold within two weeks, he would pay double the penalty and be automatically stripped of his Barony by Royal Order.
Pellamio ordered his servants to carry his broken son and left the hall without another word.
---
Once they were gone, Sir Alrent turned to Arthur.
"By the way — what is your Lord's name?"
"Lord Rudious," Arthur replied politely.
*Rudious.*
All three judges went still. A heavy silence fell over the veterans — the kind that comes from recognition, not surprise.
Seeing their reaction, Arthur added quickly — "Lord Rudious Alister Falcon."
"Ohhh... Alister Falcon." All three exhaled at exactly the same moment. The atmosphere lifted instantly.
"Ah. The Falcon Knights," Sir Belmore nodded, his posture relaxing. "I see."
As they turned to leave, Sir Belmore spoke over his shoulder.
"This boy has talent. If he ever wants to become a Royal Knight — I can recommend him personally. Send him to me."
Sir Alrent stepped forward and held out a bronze badge to Arthur. "With this, he will be able to reach the Commander quickly."
"Shall we go?" Sir Vane asked.
"Yes. Let's go."
All three filed out of the hall.
---
**Meanwhile — Velrend Manor.**
Inside the quiet office, Rudious and Jorald sat comfortably across from each other — cups of hot tea in hand.
Jorald lowered his cup. "What demand did you make if Drake won?"
"Mnm. His main branch. And gold for wasting our time," Rudious replied lazily, taking another sip.
Jorald leaned forward slightly. "But Pellamio has been bankrupt for a long time. Why that specific demand?"
Rudious slowly placed his teacup on the table.
A slow, quiet smile spread across his face.
---
**[Chapter 33 — End]**