Fool – Part 14
“Are you done talking? What a load of horseshit. Go ahead, share your baseless theory with the Militant Nation or the Continental Law Commission. It doesn’t matter—”
“Do you still not get it?”
What could have triggered Luke’s anger?
“I’m provoking you.”
The tension in the air thickened. Luke still hadn’t so much as glanced at Cecily, so she couldn’t tell what kind of expression he was wearing.
“Just shut up and fight me. I despise everything about you.”
“Fine. You’re on,” Siegfried spat irritably. “But on one condition: if I win, you let me dissect your assistant.”
“Absolutely no—”
“I don’t mind!”
A voice came from right beside her, and Cecily jumped in surprise.
“Luke will not lose!” A girl in a pretty dress stood nearby, a familiar face. “If Luke ever loses, you can do whatever you want with my body. But that will never happen!”
“L-Lisa?”
Lisa squared her shoulders, inexplicably furious.
“You heard her,” Siegfried said.
“Fine.” Luke sighed wearily. “But I have a condition too. If I win, you never lay a hand on Cecily Campbell again.”
Cecily’s heart skipped a beat. Wait, what? What did he just say?
“Quite smitten, aren’t you? Fine, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Before anyone could grasp what was happening, a duel between the two was arranged. Ignoring the bewildered guests, a space quickly opened in the center of the hall, with tables, decorations, and even the guests moved to the walls. Confusion spread across every face at the sudden turn of events.
Cecily felt just as bewildered. “Luke. Why?”
Luke didn’t answer. He made his way to the now-empty stage. He seemed oddly indifferent, never glancing back at her as he made his preparations.
Lisa crossed her arms. “Luke! If you lose, you’re not getting any dinner tomorrow! Hmph!”
Cecily was still completely lost. She turned to Lisa. “What on earth is going on? Why are you two doing this? Is this about what happened back then?”
Was this retaliation for Siegfried revealing that Lisa was a hybrid demon, made up of multiple elements?
“No. It’s about something entirely different,” Lisa said, her expression a mix of reproach and sympathy. “Aria told us everything.”
Cecily was struck speechless. She glanced down at the rapier at her waist. Of course, it remained unresponsive as a sword.
Luke was the last person she wanted to know. Aria must’ve told them knowing full well she would get mad at her. Her partner knew all along. Luke was the one person Cecily wanted to keep in the dark, yet he was also the one she longed to see most right now.
“We’re furious,” Lisa huffed, her breath coming in heavy bursts. “Especially Luke—more than ever.”
Cecily shifted her gaze to the center of the venue. Luke and Siegfried stood facing each other, maintaining their distance.
“Evadne.”
“Yes.”
Placing her hand on her master’s outstretched palm, Evadne began to chant. “Unshackle from slumber. Cloak yourself in darkness. Bring forth the end. Slay God.”
In an instant, Evadne’s form disintegrated. Her dress unraveled from the hem, transforming into darkness and flames that writhed upward, engulfing her entirely. The darkness licked at Evadne’s skin, consuming her entire body along with Siegfried’s arm.
A black pillar erupted, then dispersed, revealing Evadne as the flamberge Infernal Blade.
The double-edged longsword featured a peculiar undulating blade, cloaked in twisting dark flames. Charlotte had wielded it with both hands, but Siegfried lifted it effortlessly with one.
The crowd stirred at the sight of the magical weapon.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Siegfried said. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Siegfried, Captain of the Imperial Warriors,” Siegfried announced himself, raising the Infernal Blade high.
Luke responded in kind, drawing his katana from its sheath. “Luke Ainsworth, blacksmith.”
He took a stance, shifting his left side forward. His katana lay horizontally at his side, its tip pointing behind him, obscured from his opponent’s view. This was known as a hidden sword stance.
“Is that a Sacred Sword?”
“It’s not that good yet.”
“Wow, how modest. So, how do we determine the winner?”
“When one of us dies.”
“Sounds good.”
“What?” Cecily’s breath caught in her throat.
“I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker.”
“Keep barking, little brat.”
Both fighters clashed simultaneously.
Siegfried struck down from above. The vertical slash of the flamberge erupted with flames, swelling into a thick, towering pillar that obscured the view. A massive black shockwave, far more enormous than what Charlotte had produced before, tore through the air.
The flashing katana sliced through it in a single stroke.
Clang!
Luke’s sword crossed with Siegfried’s flamberge. As the tip of the katana lodged into the grooves of the flamberge’s wavy blade, chaotic flames from the Infernal Blade singed Luke’s hair and cuffs.
Suddenly, Luke withdrew his katana and shifted his body sideways. With the unexpected retreat, the momentum pushed Siegfried’s weapon downward. Luke slipped around him to strike at his face.
“How dull,” Siegfried muttered.
Luke’s deadly blade sliced through empty air. Siegfried had pulled back in a flash, stepping just out of range. Irritation flashed across his face.
“Are you here just to play a game?”
“Not even close.” Luke pivoted sharply. “I’m here to kill you.”
He lunged forward, closing the distance in an instant and appearing right in Siegfried’s range. The smug look vanished from Siegfried’s face.
Luke’s katana was already back in its sheath. He shifted his right side forward and lowered his hips. He placed his left hand on the sheath’s mouth, his right on the hilt. This stance only meant one thing.
“Iai!”
The blade flashed out, too fast to track with the naked eye. Red mist sprayed. Sparks flew from the sheath as the katana swept in an arc, slashing across Siegfried’s chest. But the cut was shallow.
Luke didn’t stop. His left hand seized Siegfried’s right wrist, pulling him closer, and he slammed the sword’s pommel into Siegfried’s temple. Then his forehead. Then his cheek. Blood trickled from Siegfried’s nose as Luke’s relentless strikes continued.
Siegfried snickered.
“Ha!”
Black flames erupted from Siegfried’s flamberge, swirling around him and surging upward, knocking Luke backward. He barely managed to shield his head with both arms as his sleeves singed, the heat scorching his skin.
Luke retreated just beyond the flames’ reach, resheathing his sword. Without a moment’s pause, he unleashed another iai strike.
The purifying katana sliced cleanly through the black flames and met Siegfried’s flamberge, descending from above. Orange sparks and black embers scattered. The weapons screeched.
“Die.”
“Oh, you’re dead, all right.”
Their swords separated once more.
Luke launched attacks from every angle—low, middle, high—while Siegfried matched each strike with deadly precision.
Strike after strike, their blades met, then rebounded, only to collide again. The clash of metal against metal sounded like relentless hammering on iron. Katana and flamberge crossed, faster and faster. Wisps of smoke now mingled with the sparks.
Suddenly, their swords skimmed past each other, grazing flesh. It signaled the shift from swift strikes to bloodshed. The blades stopped crossing for a short while.
Luke’s katana sliced into Siegfried’s side, while the flamberge dug into Luke’s shoulder.
Luke’s katana cut across Siegfried’s thigh, while the flamberge nicked his neck.
Luke’s katana grazed Siegfried’s left arm, while the flamberge burned a line across his chest.
Luke’s katana scored an X over Siegfried’s chest, while the flamberge singed his earlobe.
Luke’s right eye, bloodshot, glinted fiercely. Siegfried licked the blood running down his cheek.
“Die!”
“Die!”
The duel devolved into a brutal slugfest. Luke’s katana, bloodied and dulled from countless clashes had become a blunt club, while Siegfried’s flamberge, chipped and battered by the katana, had lost its fierce flames. It was nothing but an ordinary, heavy blade at this point.
Recognizing this, they abandoned all technique and decorum. Grabbing each other by the collars, they began striking from point-blank range, hitting with whatever they could—the hilt, the guard, blunt edge, flattened blade, fists, elbows, foreheads. They struck each other’s eyes, nose, forehead, cheeks, jaw, chest, shoulders, underarms, throat, stomach, thighs—blow after relentless blow.
Siegfried spat bloody phlegm onto the floor, a few broken teeth among the flecks.
Luke shook his head to clear it from the blow, and something popped loose. A round object bounced and rolled across the floor. A guest picked it up and screamed. It was Luke’s left prosthetic eye.
“I’ll rip out your remaining eye too,” Siegfried sneered.
“Then, I’ll drain every last drop of blood from you.”
The two were locked in a brutal clash, splattering each other with blood, layer upon layer, neither showing any sign of slowing. Their single goal was destruction of the other.
“I’m bored,” Siegfried said suddenly.
“Same,” Luke replied.
They abruptly separated.
Luke tried to sheath his katana, but the bent blade wouldn’t fit. Tossing the scabbard aside, he held his sword ready at his side. Siegfried attempted to summon black flames to his flamberge, but the battered Infernal Blade had lost its power. Giving up, he lifted it in a plain high stance.
Both of their faces were swollen beyond recognition.
“Let’s end this,” Siegfried said.
“Oh, I’m ending you, all right,” Luke hissed.
They charged forward at the same time. Luke’s warped katana swung in an awkward horizontal slash, while Siegfried’s battered Infernal Blade came down in a rough cleave. Their strikes collided mid-air.
“That’s enough!”
A massive arm shot out, smashing into Luke’s face, while a woman in armor grabbed Siegfried around the torso, pinning him back.
“Forgive me, Lord Siegfried!”
“Francisca?” Siegfried glanced down at his subordinate clinging to his waist, then lowered his sword.
Meanwhile, Hannibal, the one who had punched Luke, grabbed him by the collar and shook him hard. Luke’s body hung as limp as a ragdoll.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
“S-Stop! My head!”
“You need to have it checked! Look around you!”
Siegfried pushed Francisca aside and looked around. Every guest stood frozen in shock, pale-faced. Even seasoned soldiers and knights would’ve been rattled by the duel’s brutal intensity. Some nobles and merchants, unaccustomed to the sight of blood, had collapsed and were being attended to by the Knight Guard.
Cecily, too, looked as ashen as a ghost.
“…”
Siegfried gave a quick look at Luke, still flailing as Hannibal shook him, then down at his own cracked Infernal Blade. With a weary sigh, he handed the damaged flamberge, Evadne, to Francisca. He then turned to the guests and, swaying slightly, offered a refined bow.
“My apologies for this unsightly display.”
And with that, the bloody duel ended in a draw.
Comment (0)