🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 40
A razor-sharp tension filled the training grounds, so intense it made the skin tingle.
The tables set up around the edges of the arena were already packed with nobles.
The duel between Prince Lesian and Duke Karnox had become a major topic among the aristocracy.
The Duke of Karnox’s exceptional swordsmanship was vaguely known in whispers, but since he had been away from the capital for so long, few had ever truly seen it for themselves.
Those who had come to witness the rumored sword skills of the Duke watched the center of the training ground with eager anticipation.
There, the duel’s participants—Prince Lesian and Duke Karnox—stood at a distance from each other.
Beside them stood a knight from the Imperial Order, appointed as the referee.
As everyone was still wondering about this arrangement, Cesar strode toward Duke Karnox.
Stopping at a respectful but noticeable distance, he spoke.
“There is something His Grace must understand.”
“……”
“Our marriage has been arranged for a long time. I did not expect the Duke to interfere so carelessly in other people’s affairs….”
Despite Cesar’s provocative tone, Duke Karnox’s expression did not change even slightly. His face remained utterly cold, like unbreakable porcelain.
“Please stop interfering in our relationship. It is quite disgraceful.”
The Duke finally spoke slowly.
“So?”
“…!”
Cesar froze at the Duke’s tilted head and mocking tone.
The Duke’s expression twisted into a faintly sinister smile.
“What of it?” he added.
Cesar’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
His attempt to provoke had failed completely. Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to calm down.
There was no need to rush. No matter what the Duke did, he would win this duel.
And after winning, he would watch that contemptible face crumble in defeat.
Then Isel would finally be his.
Cesar leaned closer and whispered lowly.
“You can only remain calm for now.”
Then, turning toward the Imperial Knight, he said loudly:
“Lord Richet has agreed to act as my proxy.”
A murmur spread through the watching nobles.
According to custom, a proxy fighter had to be declared at least a day in advance.
Cesar’s blatant disregard for the rules drew disapproving looks. Despite the Lesian family’s immense power and wealth, their son clearly lacked refinement.
Perhaps having already made arrangements, the Imperial Knight said nothing about the violation and simply nodded.
Leos, seated nearby, clenched his fist in anger.
That knight was from the 4th Order, a man known to have close ties with the Lesian family.
Lord Richet, who had been sitting beside the Duke of Lesian, stood and walked toward the center of the arena. Still wearing his travel cloak over his knight’s attire, he did not even need to change clothes.
His strong, well-built body stood out even beneath the blue knight uniform.
Richet was widely known for his swordsmanship. He was said to have never lost a duel in his life.
Not only his skill, but also his unnatural physical strength made him famous.
Damon attempted to protest, but Duke Karnox raised a hand to stop him.
“Let it be.”
“But Your Grace!”
Damon, bold enough to answer back, was met with a cold stare from Rahan.
He quickly swallowed and nodded repeatedly.
Rahan turned his attention back to Richet.
The man, cleanly groomed, with a massive sword at his side, lifted his chin proudly.
Their eyes met, and Richet gave a slight nod.
“Duke Karnox.”
“Lord Richet.”
At the Imperial Knight’s signal to begin, Richet immediately drew his sword.
He struck first.
With a powerful charge, Richet swung his massive blade down with enough force to split anything in its path.
The sound of slicing wind was terrifying.
When their blades collided, the air itself trembled.
Richet frowned at how easily his strike had been blocked.
The pressure transmitted through the blade was immense, yet Karnox did not move an inch—like a stone.
Instead, the Duke tilted his blade and used Richet’s own force against him, unbalancing him in an instant.
It was a sword technique Richet had never seen before.
He had heard that the Karnox family’s sword style differed slightly due to Northern influence, but he had not expected this level.
Before he could recover, Karnox twisted his wrist and slipped into Richet’s blind side.
The tip of the Duke’s sword narrowly grazed Richet’s waist.
Richet barely avoided the strike and stepped back, eyes locked on the Duke.
There was a faint smile on Karnox’s lips—as if he was enjoying himself.
Like this was mere amusement.
Richet gritted his teeth.
A surge of pride and frustration swelled inside him. This was no longer just about his nephew—it was about his honor.
He charged again.
Clang! Clash!
The sound of blades echoed across the arena.
Dodging another attack with a twist of his shoulder, Rahan tightened his grip.
It had been a long time since he had fought someone with a real blade.
What filled him now was not justice or chivalry.
Something dangerous inside him was slowly awakening.
Every collision sent vibrations through his blade and into his arm, thrilling and familiar.
Richet was an easy target.
His movements were completely transparent.
A month ago, Rahan would have ended his life already.
The urge to drive his blade into Richet’s chest was strong.
Meanwhile, Richet became increasingly enraged by the Duke’s calm dominance.
Despite knowing he should not, his lips began to call upon a divine name.
“Carmeus!”
His sword emitted a faint glow and vibrated.
The sacred relic sword of the god Carmeus granted its wielder superhuman strength.
It was essentially divine power.
No one in or outside the Empire had ever survived its strike.
Richet swung the empowered blade.
KAANG!
The clash rang out like thunder.
At that moment, killing intent flashed in Karnox’s eyes.
In an instant, his figure vanished.
Richet felt a chill at his neck.
He slowly looked down.
A blade was pressed against his throat.
His greatsword fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
Silence consumed the arena.
The knight finally spoke, trembling:
“Duke Karnox… wins.”
Rahan calmly sheathed his sword.
He looked as though he had just finished a light exercise.
The nobles slowly began to applaud.
Cesar shot to his feet.
“This is impossible!”
He rushed into the arena.
“This was not a proper duel! The Duke’s movements were unnatural! He must have cheated!”
His voice echoed wildly.
“I demand a rematch!”
The Imperial Knight hesitated, looking between Cesar and the Duke.
Someone tried to reason with him.
“Prince Lesian, accept your defeat with dignity.”
“I have not lost!”
Ignoring all decorum, Cesar drew his sword.
“Draw your sword, Duke!”
Rahan looked at him silently, then glanced toward the nobles.
His gaze stopped briefly on someone in the crowd.
Damon stepped forward, but Rahan stopped him with a hand.
“Your Grace, but—”
Damon fell silent under the Duke’s glare.
Rahan turned back to Cesar.
“Very well. As you wish.”
Gasps spread through the crowd.
It was unprecedented—to restart a duel after its conclusion.
Cesar stepped forward.
“Isel is mine.”
Rahan walked toward him and extended his hand.
A handshake.
Cesar hesitated, then took it.
But instead of releasing him, Rahan tightened his grip.
“What—”
“I told you,” Rahan said quietly. “You seem to have forgotten already.”
Bones creaked under the pressure.
Cesar winced in pain.
Dark gold eyes met his.
Cold terror crawled up his spine.
One thought surfaced in his mind:
Devil.
Rahan lowered his head slightly and spoke like a death sentence:
“Are you prepared to pay the price?”
