Chapter 75

Chapter 75
## Chapter 75

“Did I make you wait long?”

“No, you’re right on schedule. However, that person following you is…”

Harald spoke with a casual air, but Lucian couldn’t simply overlook the presence. If the individual acted unpredictably, it could spiral into a significant problem.

Observing Lucian’s clear unease, Harald let out a weary smile.

“Ignore him. I intend to let him stand there as motionless as a fence post.”

“May I inquire as to why?”

“It represents my final remaining attachment.”

Hearing that, Lucian could fairly accurately sense Harald’s mindset. Standing there was a successor more interested in tearing down Northern heritage than upholding it. Their bond was likely beyond repair, yet perhaps Harald entertained a faint hope that his son might gain some insight or feeling through witnessing this contest.

“….”

Torik remained mute, his lips pulled into a tight, thin line as he shifted his gaze away, showing no interest in the sentiment.

Grasping the gravity of the moment, Lucian gave a nod and moved to the center.

“Very well. Shall we begin?”

“There’s no point in making the crowd wait. Ready your blade.”

Thud.

A massive axe struck the earth, the vibration ringing through the clearing. The sound carried a depth and resonance far beyond any weapon Harald had wielded previously.

*That isn’t a standard tool. Could it be a relic?*

Relics were artifacts from a lost age, built using ancient methods that the world had forgotten. Even a low-tier relic commanded a king’s ransom, and a mid-tier one was a treasure fit for a great house. Their capability was as terrifying as their scarcity.

*It appears he has no intention of holding back.*

Shring.

With a subtle grin, Lucian unsheathed the sword at his hip. While it wasn’t an ancient relic, the blade was crafted from high-grade Adamantium. In a contest of pure durability, it was more than capable of enduring the impact of a relic. The result of this clash would be decided by sheer prowess alone.

“May this contest be just and noble, held with integrity before the Eight Gods.”

Whoosh.

Raymon, serving as the arbiter, concluded the brief ceremony and retreated to a safe distance.

In that very instant, Harald charged at Lucian, the air itself groaning under his momentum. Lucian suppressed a startled, dry chuckle at the incredible velocity.

*Is this what a relic can do!*

The hidden symbols etched into the axe flared to life, emitting a steady magical glow. Any standard knight would have shrunk away, not daring to meet such a force. Instead, Lucian put every ounce of his strength into a counter-swing.

The heavy axe and the graceful sword met with a violent crash.

Claaaaang!

An ear-splitting boom rang out, and a wave of force surged outward in every direction.

Whoosh!

“….”

Palmyr, a warrior representing the House of Calix, stared in disbelief at the scene. His frame shook from the tremors produced every time the two weapons collided. These were impacts that would have pulverized his own limbs in a single pass. Yet, the two combatants were exchanging these monstrous blows repeatedly.

*It’s so surreal that it’s almost funny.*

It was startling that Viscount Harald held such incredible combat ability, but that part was at least logical. He was a veteran who had earned the name ‘Wolf Slayer’ in his prime, a title still respected by the older generation and high-ranking lords. Given his natural strength, a body hardened by time, decades of battle, and the enhancement of a relic, such power was understandable.

*But that teenager… how is this possible?*

What Palmyr couldn’t wrap his head around was Lucian. He was just a youth of sixteen with a fairly standard build. He couldn’t possibly have extensive combat experience or the wisdom that comes with age. Even his weapon was just a sturdy sword without any magical properties.

*How can he stand toe-to-toe with Harald?*

Boom!

Another thunderous roar echoed as the shockwave brushed the area. After a flurry of high-speed strikes, the two men finally pushed back from one another.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

A loud burst of laughter broke from Harald. While shock still touched his eyes, a profound sense of exhilaration was flooding his system.

*I anticipated a secret weapon, but I never imagined he possessed this much power!*

Harald had committed his full strength to the duel, even drawing on his family’s ancient relic. This wasn’t because he was desperate to win, but because he wanted to demonstrate the true spirit of the North to the boy. If Lucian’s resolve crumbled under this weight, it would be safer for him to depart the North in silence.

Usually, no matter how much heart a person has, the gap in experience and physical conditioning is impossible to bridge. Harald had expected that if he lost, it would be due to some youthful trickery or a reckless gamble.

*But he’s trying to overpower me with pure force!*

He felt his heart, dormant for so long, racing with life. It wasn’t merely the rush of combat. It was the thrill of realizing that the promising youth he saw was actually a champion in the making.

*I once thought the idea of a unified North was just a fantasy that would never happen.*

But it might be achievable. If this rising hero currently clashing blades with him truly stepped into the spotlight. If the people of the North saw him as the legitimate successor of Grimaldi. Perhaps the old kingdom’s majesty could finally be brought back.

“Are you content?”

A calm, steady voice reached Harald as he tried to rein in his excitement. Harald clenched his axe and stared at the youth. Despite the brutal exchange, Lucian looked relaxed, smiling as if he were barely breaking a sweat.

“I am beyond satisfied! Do you have anything else to show me?!”

“If that is what you want.”

As Lucian answered, a faint blue mana began to dance around his form. At the sight of the visible energy, the watching soldiers shouted in shock.

“Mana Visualization?!”

“This is impossible…!”

For internal energy to spill out and become visible meant one of two things: either his control was on par with a Sword Saint, or he held a reservoir of mana that surpassed human limits. The first would make him the greatest prodigy of the age; the second would mean he was more akin to a dragon than a man. Regardless, he was a monster.

“Hah, I haven’t been this stunned in years.”

Harald held his axe tight, feeling the mana pulsing against his skin. He wanted to keep going, to see just how deep the boy’s secrets went. However, pushing the relic to its limit had taken its toll on his aging frame. If he dragged the fight out, his stamina would crack, and his form would become sloppy.

“It’s a shame, but I want to end this with the next strike. What do you think?”

“Suits me. Come.”

“Hahaha! You’re incredible, right to the finish!”

Harald laughed again as Lucian took a steady defensive stance. In a fight, the person who attacks first usually controls the flow. Yet, Lucian was handing the initiative of the final move to Harald.

*Then I must meet those expectations.*

Wroooooom.

The symbols on the axe flared in response to Harald’s burning spirit. The light intensified, glowing even brighter than it had during his younger days. The audience found their vision clouded by the brilliance of the runes.

BOOM!

A massive explosion shook the ground, sending a heavy vibration through the entire estate. Nearby observers covered their ears in pain, while others were knocked off their feet.

When the dust settled and the light dimmed, the crowd could finally see the outcome. Between the two figures, only Lucian was still armed. Harald’s hands were empty, frozen in the motion of a downward strike.

Thud.

“…!?”

The crowd’s eyes followed the sound a moment later. Harald’s axe had been knocked clean from his grip and was now stuck deep in the stone wall of the fortress.

Harald, his arms shaking uncontrollably, let out a long breath and shrugged.

“Well then. There isn’t much to say after such a total defeat.”

“Then the victory is mine.”

“Indeed, you won.”

Harald smiled broadly, then brought his hands together and gave a low, respectful bow. This wasn’t a polite nod to a younger person; it was the formal salute of a warrior acknowledging a superior peer.

“Please overlook my earlier disrespect. Harald Osgor offers his respects to the scion of Grimaldi and a true warrior of our North.”

*Terrifying. How powerful was this man in his prime?*

Lucian rubbed his throbbing wrist and sighed. The relic’s power was immense, but the precision of the swing and the perfect timing were Harald’s own talents. His raw power was impressive, but the mastery behind it was what truly shocked Lucian.

*If I hadn’t gained new insight after using the Nectar, I would have been forced to dodge rather than face him head-on. I’m glad I prepared before making this move.*

Lucian had spent significant time training with Felicia recently. He could have utilized various tactics—misdirection, agility, or counter-timing. However, the North respected grit over grace. To earn their loyalty, he had to prove he could win a direct clash of strength.

*Still, the effort was worth it.*

“….”

“….”

The spectators were staring at Lucian in a stunned silence. It wasn’t that they were unhappy with the result; they simply didn’t know how to process the feat they had just seen.

Harald noticed the atmosphere, laughed, and clapped Lucian on the shoulder.

“The match is finished. Let’s head inside to talk. If we stay out here, these folks will never move.”

“Agreed. Could you step aside? I’m coming through.”

“Yes, of course!”

Scuttle.

The commoners quickly parted, creating a path that was wider than necessary. Lucian chuckled at their behavior; they seemed terrified of even stepping on his shadow.

*I feel like a figure out of a legend.*

“Come along then!”

Harald gave Lucian a friendly nudge, encouraging him to soak in the newfound respect he had earned. Lucian didn’t argue and followed him toward the central manor.

While the crowd watched with awe, one man’s expression was dark.

*This is a disaster.*

Palmyr squeezed his sweaty palms. It was problematic enough that a sixteen-year-old was a combat genius, but his political instincts were even more concerning. Fools would see this as just a brave duel, but Palmyr saw the calculation behind it. Clashing directly was a deliberate choice.

*I saw it—the boy was always a split second faster, waiting until the last moment to meet the axe. Someone with that reaction time could have easily stepped out of the way.*

Instead, Lucian had met every blow, putting his power on display for the entire territory. He knew exactly what the people of the North admired. Now, everyone was looking at him like he was a savior.

*If he’s left unchecked, he’ll be a massive headache for the House of Calix. I need to handle this before he gains any more ground.*

He didn’t mean murder. With Lucian’s strength, Palmyr would be the one ending up dead. However, he could use politics to trap him.

*I need to talk to him. If I can get him to discuss his lineage and rights, that’s a start.*

Unlike Dane, who had botched his mission, Palmyr was confident in his silver tongue. He was willing to use half-truths and deception if needed. No matter how smart the boy was, he was an outsider to Northern politics. If Palmyr fed him enough misinformation, Lucian would be paralyzed while trying to sort through the lies.

“Actually, I haven’t even properly greeted the Viscount since arriving.”

“It’s late, but we should go pay our respects. And we might see Lord Lucian while we’re there.”

Tsk.

Palmyr scowled at the other knights. It seemed the representatives of the other lords were already trying to switch sides and get close to Lucian.

“Out of the way!”

Palmyr ignored them and rushed toward the inner keep. He needed to reach Lucian first to keep him off-balance. If he could shake the boy’s confidence, Lucian might make a mistake and alienate his new fans.

He managed to reach the manor before the others. But when he asked for an audience…

“Oh, you’re from the House of Calix? My apologies, but the Young Master has no interest in seeing you. Please leave without making a scene.”

“…!?”

Palmyr stood frozen, shocked that a lowly squad leader—not even a proper knight—was tossing him out like common trash.