Chapter 18

Chapter 18
## Chapter 18

“Take a look at this brat.”

The moment the suggestion of a “duel” was voiced, Lucian felt a wave of irritation wash over him.

The other boy’s motives were as clear as glass, and the circumstances were stacked heavily against him.

‘He might only be sixteen and relatively green, but his formal instruction has spanned far longer than mine. On top of that, my past sword styles are off-limits, and this physical form hasn’t been properly tempered yet. Engaging him in a direct test of power is a bad move.’

When two amateurs who lack sophisticated maneuvers clash, sheer physical force dictates the winner.

The more momentum behind a swing, the more lethal and rapid the impact, making a defense nearly impossible to maintain.

Lucian wasn’t just restricted from utilizing his high-level techniques; his frame was still recovering from years of debauchery and neglect. There was no mathematical path to victory in a contest of brawn against Joshua, who had remained steadfast in his drills.

‘Damn it. Give me sixty days, and I would have crushed him without breaking a sweat.’

While this vessel possessed innate brilliance, the refinement of its internal energy would only manifest after dedicated practice. It offered little advantage in a low-level scrap where basic lung capacity and fundamental drills decided the victor.

It was a stroke of luck for the challenger, but the timing was undeniably perfect.

Still, if he backed down from the challenge now, the social standing he had painstakingly reconstructed would shatter instantly.

‘There is no other way. I must rely on my intuition and fight for a stalemate.’

His secret arts were restricted and his muscles were frail, but his history on the battlefield was vast.

In contrast, Joshua was a mere child who had never tasted the spray of blood on a true front line.

By squeezing every drop of utility from his current state, he might be able to force a draw.

Just as Lucian was calculating his moves, a startling new condition was proposed.

“As long as we are doing this, why don’t we test our mettle with live steel?”

Lucian’s eyes widened at Joshua’s provocation.

Not blunted training tools, but actual sharpened blades?

That shifted the entire paradigm!

“What a brilliant suggestion! Let us begin at once!”

“…!?”

Both men stared at Lucian, their faces masks of shock.

They were already anxious about him handling wooden practice swords, yet here he was, embracing the use of lethal edges?

Eisen, clearly under a grave misapprehension, stepped forward and gripped Lucian’s shoulder, his voice rising in alarm.

“Third Young Master! This is madness! You have never even gripped a sharpened blade before!”

“What difference does it make? Is the art of the sword not ultimately about using a real weapon? Training with a live blade instead of a toy will provide a much more authentic understanding of combat.”

“That logic is for masters! Do you realize how many novices maim themselves simply by swinging a weighted blade incorrectly!?”

“I have heard the warnings once or twice.”

In reality, he hadn’t just heard them; he had lived them.

If one fails to regulate their output during a swing, a real sword can easily slip or bounce, carving into the wielder’s own shoulder or leg.

During the days when Lucian was teaching himself the ways of the warrior, he had suffered such self-inflicted wounds on two separate occasions.

However, he maintained a mask of innocence, showing no sign of his internal knowledge.

“Regardless, this is a friendly bout. To prevent any mishaps, we will be using extreme restraint. Surely that is safer than a practice session where we exert ourselves fully? Have no fear.”

“No, that is not the point…!”

“My brother speaks the truth. Master, please set your worries aside. Do you truly believe I would use this steel to harm my own flesh and blood?”

Eisen shut his eyes tightly.

With both participants in full accord, he had no further grounds to intervene.

As Eisen offered a heavy, reluctant nod, a cruel smirk tugged at the corners of Joshua’s mouth.

“Provide a weapon for my brother.”

“At once, Young Master.”

Upon the order, an attendant stepped forward, offering a sword with practiced reverence.

Without a second of hesitation, Lucian grabbed the hilt from the servant’s hands.

“Ah, this familiar weight, this biting chill….”

Observing Lucian marvel at the steel with such open sentiment, Joshua suppressed a look of contempt.

‘What a moron. Does he still fail to grasp the gravity of this?’

It was perhaps a natural masculine urge to admire a well-crafted tool, but to be so relaxed when that tool was about to be leveled at his own throat was nothing short of idiocy.

‘It serves my purposes, though. If he is preoccupied with the sword, the sheer panic he feels during our first exchange will be all the more satisfying.’

Joshua’s intent from the beginning was to plant the seeds of terror in Lucian.

By putting the boy’s cowardice and shaking hands on display, he planned to demolish Lucian’s newfound prestige.

Though the audience was small, it sufficed.

The fact that the legendary Sword Saint Eisen would be unable to lie about the outcome was all the proof he needed.

“If both of you are prepared, unsheathe your steel.”

Shring—

Lucian and Joshua pulled their weapons in perfect unison, the sounds overlapping into one.

With a vibrant ring of metal, two gleaming white surfaces were revealed.

It was a display of striking elegance, but those who had faced a superior foe knew the underlying horror.

The moment that freezing edge nears your skin, your thoughts vanish.

The only thing that remains is the primal instinct to stay alive.

‘I can’t wait to see the expression on my brother’s face.’

Suppreessing a laugh as he envisioned the upcoming humiliation, Joshua took up his stance.

“Start.”

Whoosh!

The instant the word left Eisen’s lips, a sharp arc of steel whistled toward Joshua’s skull.

Clang!

“Ugh!”

“Third Young Master!?”

“Young Master!”

Three distinct cries of alarm rang out across the grounds, drowned out by the screech of metal on metal.

Despite holding a lethal weapon, it was a brutal, diagonal strike delivered without mercy.

Had Joshua failed to intercept it, he would have been cleaved open from his collarbone to his waist.

But Lucian, ignoring the shocked gasps of the onlookers, followed up with another strike.

Clang! Clang! Clack!

“You lunatic…!”

Each time the blades clashed and sent sparks flying, Joshua felt his heart skip a beat.

Every single thrust and swing was aimed with the intent to inflict a mortal wound if miscalculated by even an inch.

To initiate such a bloodthirsty offensive in a live-steel spar was unheard of.

‘This idiot! Is he genuinely attempting to murder me right here?!’

Joshua clenched his teeth, finally shaking off his stupor.

As he began to anticipate the rhythm of the strikes, his initial dread transformed into a burning fury.

“You think this is enough—!”

Claaaang!

Joshua deflected the next blow to the side with every ounce of his strength.

As Lucian’s balance wavered from the force of the parry, Joshua swung his counterattack toward Lucian’s lower half.

He wouldn’t take his life, but he fully intended to strike his thigh with the flat of the steel to humble him.

But before his blade could connect, Lucian’s foot lashed out.

Thud!

“Gah!?”

“Hoh.”

A pained grunt left Joshua’s lips, while a soft sound of wonder escaped Eisen.

Lucian had neutralized the incoming attack by planting his boot firmly on the side of the blade.

“What kind of—!”

Joshua was completely thrown by the unorthodox move.

He didn’t use his sword to block; he stepped on it?

This wasn’t disciplined combat; it was a gutter fight!

However, Sword Saint Eisen, observing with a keen eye, was fascinated by Lucian’s ingenuity.

‘Incredible. That is the sort of dirty trick you only see from a survivor of a hundred skirmishes.’

Eisen understood that adaptability was the soul of a real fight—actions that could never be found in a formal scroll.

An opponent will not always engage you when you are balanced and ready.

Dropping your weapon, being slowed by a puncture wound, or being unable to pivot due to mud are the realities of war.

There are times when the disparity in raw talent is so great that traditional forms offer no solution.

In those moments, catching a foe off-balance with raw pragmatism is the only path.

In fact, Eisen had watched many “perfect” knights perish because they lacked the imagination to handle the unexpected.

To Eisen, Lucian seemed to possess the raw, predatory instincts of a wild beast.

“Damn you!”

When the trapped sword refused to move, Joshua snarled and threw his weight backward to wrench it free.

And at that precise second, Lucian removed his foot.

“Ugh!?”

With the resistance suddenly vanishing, Joshua’s momentum carried him away.

Coupled with the heavy pull he had initiated, he lost all control of his center of gravity.

By the time he managed to stand upright without toppling over, Lucian’s blade was already screaming toward his windpipe.

“W-Wait…!”

Ssh—

“Aaaagh!”

“Young Master!”

The attendant shrieked, sprinting toward his master who was gasping for breath in a state of shock.

To think he had actually followed through and cut him down without a second thought!

Wheezing, Joshua gripped his throat where the freezing steel had just passed.

‘Am I gone? Just like this? In such a pathetic way?’

A tidal wave of pure dread overtook him as his memories raced past.

Had he worked so hard just to be slaughtered by a madman in his own courtyard?

He felt a sob rising in his chest at the sheer injustice of his demise.

In the middle of the panic, the servant desperately pulled a rag from his pocket and reached out.

“Y-Young Master! I must stop the flow!”

“It is pointless. A wound that deep… Wait?”

Mourning his own end, Joshua realized something was off.

If his throat had truly been opened that wide, how was he still able to draw breath so clearly?

With a glimmer of confusion, he pulled his shaking hands away from his neck.

“…Young Master, there is no blood.”

“What!?”

Stunned, Joshua felt at his throat, but his palms were completely dry.

Forget a mortal injury; his skin was perfectly intact, without so much as a red mark.

Lucian tilted his head, watching the two of them spiral into confusion.

“What is the matter with you? Falling apart in the middle of a match.”

“No, just now… my neck… the steel….”

“Ah, that. I brought the blade to your throat and moved it across. I simply used the flat side so it wouldn’t leave a scar.”

“…!”

Because the cold, thin metal had grazed his skin, he was absolutely certain he had been sliced open.

But in truth, Lucian had merely bluffed with the side of the blade, tricking his mind into accepting death.

‘So, until this moment, I was holding my throat like a coward when there wasn’t even a scratch…!’

His vision blurred with a mix of humiliation and rage.

This failure of a brother had dared to make a fool of him?

Forget the rules; he was going to end him this instant!

Just as Joshua, blinded by fury, prepared to lunge—

“Enough.”

Eisen had moved in, his hand coming down with heavy authority on Joshua’s shoulder.

Feeling that immovable weight, Joshua’s sanity slowly returned.

But his indignation remained.

He had been made a laughingstock; he couldn’t let this stand!

“Sir Eisen, my apologies, but the match has not concluded—”

“It is finished. I stated clearly that the outcome would be decided in a single exchange.”

“That was—!”

“Do not retract your pledge, Fourth Young Master. If you wish to represent the Valdek name, your word must be your bond.”

“….”

Under the crushing presence of the Sword Saint, Joshua wilted like a blade of grass in a storm.

He had already tested Eisen’s patience by demanding the duel in the first place.

If he persisted, the Sword Saint might decide to discipline him personally, regardless of his noble birth.

Only after Joshua gritted his teeth and lowered his weapon did Lucian speak.

“It was over a bit sooner than I expected, but it wasn’t a total waste. You had decent reflexes, even if you were shaking in your boots.”

“…!”

“Still, having your knees buckle just because a little steel touched your skin is a bit embarrassing. And you’re meant to be a contender for the family leadership? You have a long road ahead of you, little brother. Haha!”

Joshua ground his teeth at the mockery.

His face, which had gone white with fear, now turned a shade of crimson so intense it looked painful.

By his design, their roles should have been reversed. How had he ended up as the victim?

Before any more insults could be hurled, Joshua stood up and turned away.

“The match is over. I am leaving.”

“Right. That’s a fine piece of steel. Don’t forget it.”

“Keep it. It’s yours now.”

Desperate to escape the scene, Joshua began to walk away at a brisk pace.

But Lucian’s voice followed him, echoing across the training grounds.

“Don’t let it get you down! It’s just a game; someone has to lose! Maybe you’ll win next time! Just not today!”

“….”

“By the way, are you certain I can keep this? I think I’ll display it as a trophy! After all, it’s the blade that humbled my dear brother!”

‘That absolute bastard…!’