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Chapter 377: Drawn Blades

Elara froze mid-sentence as she caught sight of Cedric approaching from the corner of her eye. His strides were deliberate, his expression a careful mask of neutrality that did little to hide the simmering tension in his posture. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to diffuse what she sensed coming, but before she could, Cedric was already at their side.

He stopped just in front of Luca, his imposing frame casting a shadow that felt heavier than it should have. Luca, of course, didn't budge. He didn't even straighten from his relaxed stance against the railing. Instead, he looked up at Cedric with the same infuriating smirk, his sharp eyes brimming with unspoken amusement.

"Cedric—" Elara began, but Cedric cut her off with a low, steady voice.

"Luca, is it?" Cedric said, his tone polite but firm, his gaze unwavering as it bore into the other man.

"That's what they tell me," Luca replied casually, his smirk widening just enough to edge into provocation. "And you must be Cedric. The knight with the perpetual frown. Nice to finally meet you properly."

Cedric's jaw tightened, but his composure didn't waver. "I wanted to thank you," he said, his words measured. "For helping Lady Elara during the battle. Your timing was… appreciated."

Elara blinked in surprise, not expecting Cedric to offer thanks so directly. But the tension in his shoulders and the way he subtly positioned himself between her and Luca spoke volumes. This wasn't just gratitude—it was a subtle declaration of where he stood.

Luca tilted his head slightly, his smirk softening into something more inscrutable. "Gratitude? From you? I'm flattered," he said, his voice light but with an undertone that hinted he wasn't taking this entirely at face value. "No need to thank me, though. I was just doing what felt right at the time."

Cedric's gaze didn't waver, his tone steady as he continued, "You may have saved the day once because you were lucky. But remember your place."

The words hung in the air like a dagger poised to strike. In an instant, Elara's expression darkened, a frown etching itself across her face. "Cedric!" she snapped, her voice sharp with disapproval. "That's uncalled for!"

Cedric didn't respond to her, his piercing gaze fixed squarely on Luca, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Elara clenched her fists, frustration boiling as she stepped forward. "Cedric, I said enough—"

Before she could finish, Luca raised a hand, the gesture calm but commanding. "Let's leave the men's talk to men, shall we?" he said smoothly, his smirk widening. His words were laced with casual defiance, and the faint amusement in his tone only added fuel to the fire.

Elara froze, her mouth half-open as the audacity of his words registered. "Excuse me?" she began, her tone bristling, but Luca was already turning his attention back to Cedric, his sharp eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

"Remember my place?" Luca repeated, his voice light yet edged with mockery. "I wonder what that means."

Cedric's expression hardened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword—a habitual gesture rather than a threat. "It means," he said evenly, "that no matter your skill, no matter your luck, you're an outsider here. Don't think for a moment that saving Elara once changes that."

Luca chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dismissive. "Outsider," he echoed, his gaze narrowing slightly as his smirk turned razor-sharp. "Interesting. You talk about me as though I'm a wild card, someone unpredictable. And yet, here I am, standing before you unarmed while you cling to that hilt like it's the only thing keeping you grounded."

Cedric's grip on his sword tightened ever so slightly, the movement subtle but telling. Elara's frustration reached its peak as she stepped forward, placing herself firmly between the two men.

"That's enough, both of you!" she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Her gaze darted between them, fire in her eyes. "Cedric, you've said your piece. And Luca, stop provoking him!"

Luca's smirk widened as he leaned slightly forward, his dark eyes locking onto Cedric's with a mix of amusement and challenge. He completely ignored Elara's sharp command to stop, his voice carrying a deliberate casualness that only served to stoke the tension further.

"Let's say I don't know my place, wherever that might be," Luca said, his tone smooth but laced with subtle provocation. "What are you going to do about it?"

Cedric's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, his gaze narrowing dangerously. Without another word, he drew his blade in a single fluid motion, the steel catching the faint light as it gleamed ominously.

"I will make sure you remember it," Cedric said, his voice firm and resolute.

Luca's eyes flickered with a subtle glint, something sharp and calculating beneath the surface of his smirk. He straightened from his relaxed position, his coat shifting slightly as he took a single deliberate step toward Cedric. "Do you know what drawing your blade means?" he asked, his tone dropping to something quieter, yet no less sharp.

"I do," Cedric replied, his stance steady. "I challenge you to a duel."

"Ho?" Luca's smirk widened into a full grin, his dark eyes alight with something between amusement and exhilaration.

"Stop this!" Elara interjected, stepping between them with her arms outstretched. "Both of you, this is ridiculous! Cedric, put your sword away, and Luca, stop provoking him!"

Neither man acknowledged her. The air around them felt charged, heavy with unspoken intent.

"Challenged to a duel like this," Luca continued, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone, "what choice do I have aside from accepting?"

"Luca!" Elara snapped, her frustration bubbling over. "This isn't a game!"

Luca glanced at her briefly, his smirk softening just slightly. "Who said it was?" he said lightly, then turned his attention back to Cedric. "Shall we, Sir Knight?"

Cedric didn't respond with words, but his stance shifted subtly, his sword angled in preparation. His gaze was steady, his intent clear.

"What? Wasn't that cool?" Luca quipped, his grin returning as he casually adjusted his coat. "No? Tough crowd."

"Cease your mockery," Cedric snapped, his tone cutting. "And face me."

"If you insist," Luca replied, his smirk sharpening as he took a measured step forward, his hands still empty, his stance relaxed but exuding an air of readiness.

"Stop this, both of you!" Elara shouted again, her voice desperate. "This isn't the time or place for this!"

But the two men were already locked in their silent confrontation, their focus entirely on each other. The tension was palpable, the faint sound of the waves against the ship's hull the only noise cutting through the charged silence.

********

Cedric's grip on the hilt of his sword remained firm, his knuckles whitening as he stared at Luca with unyielding resolve. His mind churned with frustration, a tempest of thoughts he could barely contain.

'This is absurd. This bastard acts like he's Elara's savior, parading around with that smug grin as if he's earned her trust with one stroke of luck.'

Cedric's jaw tightened as he glanced at Elara, her pleading eyes darting between the two of them. His heart clenched at the sight, but his resolve did not waver.

'Elara doesn't need a man like him. She needs someone who understands her struggles, someone who's been with her through the worst of it. Not a reckless fool who stumbled into a single moment of heroism.'

Memories of their shared past surged in his mind—Elara at her lowest, shunned and cast aside by her family, struggling to piece herself back together. He had been there, a constant presence at her side.

'I've seen her broken, heard her cry when no one else could. I've watched her claw her way back from despair. Where was this Luca then? Nowhere. He wasn't there when her hands bled from training, or when she collapsed from exhaustion.'

His eyes flicked to Luca, whose smirk remained, infuriatingly calm and confident.

'And now he dares to stand here, acting as if he knows her? Acting as if he's earned the right to be by her side?'

Cedric's heart pounded as he drew a deep breath, steadying himself. He couldn't let this go unanswered. He wouldn't.

Cedric stood firm, his gaze locked on Luca, the tension between them thick enough to suffocate. His initial intention had been clear—approach this man, give him a stern warning, and make it abundantly clear that Lady Elara was not someone to be trifled with.

'He doesn't belong here. I could feel it the moment I saw him.'

Cedric had planned to walk away after that, satisfied with delivering his warning. But Luca's smirk, that infuriating mix of mockery and confidence, had pushed him past the edge of restraint.

'This isn't just about Elara anymore. It's about showing this fool that he doesn't belong here. He doesn't deserve to stand by her side—not now, not ever.'

The decision to challenge him to a duel had been impulsive, but Cedric didn't regret it. If anything, it felt overdue. This was his chance to settle things, to make it clear to Luca—and anyone else who dared to stand in Elara's way—where he stood.

Cedric shifted his stance, his sword gleaming in the faint light as he prepared himself. Luca stood opposite him, still unarmed, his relaxed posture a deliberate provocation.

'He thinks he can win with that smug look alone? I'll carve that arrogance off his face.'

Cedric's voice was steady as he addressed Luca. "You could have walked away. I would have let you. But now, you've given me every reason to make sure you remember your place."

Luca's grin widened, sharp and unyielding. "My place, huh? I suppose you'll show me what that is?"

Cedric's grip tightened on his sword. "Oh, I will. And when I'm done, you'll understand exactly why you don't belong here."

CLANK!

With that the blade was drawn.

Chapter 378: Drawn Blades (2)

When the last of the monstrous sea serpents fell, their grotesque bodies crashing into the water with a resounding splash, Aeliana leaned against the railing, her eyes scanning the battlefield. The platforms, once teeming with adventurers and mercenaries, shimmered faintly before retracting back into the water under the mages' control. The battle was over—for now.

The ships bobbed gently on the waves, the crews and fighters catching their breath after the chaos. Some slumped against the railings, their weapons still in hand, while others attended to the wounded or regrouped in hushed conversations.

Aeliana's gaze lingered on the ship nearest to the Fourth Station. Her thoughts, however, were fixed on two individuals. The blonde mage whose frost magic had bound one of the sea serpents with uncanny precision, and the swordsman whose blade danced through the fray with that peculiar, mesmerizing light.

'That binding magic,' she mused, her fingers lightly tapping against the wooden railing. 'Followed by that swordplay… it was almost like watching a perfectly choreographed performance.'

For someone like Aeliana, whose life had been constrained to observation for so long, the battle had been a spectacle far beyond her expectations. She had watched knights train, seen soldiers fight, but this—this was something else entirely. It was raw, captivating, and undeniably impressive.

"Madeleina," she called softly, breaking her attendant's quiet vigil.

"Yes, my lady?" Madeleina stepped closer, her hands folded neatly as she awaited Aeliana's words.

"That young swordsman," Aeliana began, her voice calm but carrying a note of curiosity. "The one from the Fourth Station. And the frost mage as well. Can I have a talk with them?"

Madeleina's brow furrowed slightly at Aeliana's request, the soft hum of the waves underscoring the silence between them. She hesitated, clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

"My lady," she began cautiously, her tone tinged with regret, "I'm afraid that's not possible. The Duke allowed you to come here under strict orders to ensure your safety. Leaving the ship or interacting directly with the adventurers would go against his express instructions."

Aeliana's fingers drummed against the wooden railing, her gaze sharpening. "Madeleina, I understand my father's concerns, but this is important to me. I want to see them up close—to speak with them. Surely that isn't too much to ask?"

"My lady," Madeleina said, her voice growing firmer but still gentle, "you know I cannot defy the Duke's orders. Your safety is my highest priority. I cannot permit you to leave this ship."

Aeliana's posture stiffened, her hands clenching into fists. "Madeleina," she said softly, a faint tremor in her voice, "you know as well as I do that this—this moment—is likely the last time I'll have a chance to be outside like this. I've accepted that my life will return to confinement, that I'll be locked away again. Please, let me have this one request."

The plea hung in the air, and for a moment, Madeleina faltered. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her loyalty to the Duke warring with her sympathy for Aeliana. She sighed softly, lowering her head.

"My lady," she said finally, "I cannot grant this request. You know why." She raised her gaze to meet Aeliana's, her eyes steady and resolute. "But… there is another way."

Aeliana's brows furrowed, curiosity flickering behind her veil. "Another way?"

Madeleina nodded. "We can send an attendant to speak with the swordsman and the mage on your behalf. If it is their identity or presence you wish to observe, we can attach a viewpoint spell to the attendant. It will allow you to see and hear everything they do, as if you were there yourself."

Aeliana's eyes widened slightly, her fingers relaxing against the railing. "This can be done?"

Madeleina offered a small nod, her expression softening slightly. "Indeed, my lady. It's a newly advanced magical item developed by the Central Magic Tower. We brought several with us for this expedition to test their performance in real-world conditions. Since this expedition requires careful surveillance of the adventurers and the battles, it has proven invaluable to the knights."

Aeliana's eyes narrowed behind her veil, her fingers tightening slightly against the railing. "I see…" she murmured, her voice trailing off.

The thought twisted inside her, a bitter ache rising in her chest. Why had this device not been invented sooner? If she'd had access to such a thing in the past, she could have glimpsed the world beyond her suffocating walls. She could have seen beauty, danger, and life itself without being trapped in her room. Perhaps she wouldn't have felt so isolated, so forgotten.

But Aeliana shook the thought away, unwilling to let herself spiral into despair. There was no point in dwelling on what could have been. This was her chance to seize what little freedom she could, and she wasn't going to waste it.

"Then let us use it," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Send someone immediately. I want to know who they are."

Madeleina inclined her head in acknowledgment. "As you wish, my lady. I will arrange it at once."

She turned to one of the attendants standing nearby, a young woman with steady hands and a calm demeanor. The attendant stepped forward, bowing deeply before awaiting her instructions.

"You are to approach the Fourth Station," Madeleina instructed. "Identify the swordsman and the mage of interest and engage them briefly if possible. You will wear the viewing device during this task." She handed the attendant a small, circular artifact glowing faintly with magical energy. "This will allow Lady Aeliana to observe your perspective."

The attendant nodded solemnly, securing the artifact against her chest with practiced ease. "Understood, Mistress Madeleina."

Madeleina turned back to Aeliana, her gaze steady. "It will take some time for her to reach the Fourth Station and complete her task. You will be able to observe everything she sees through the device."

Aeliana inclined her head, her heart beating faster with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. "Thank you, Madeleina. Make sure she moves quickly—I don't want to miss anything."

The attendant bowed once more and departed, her steps quick and purposeful as she made her way toward the smaller vessel that would carry her to the Fourth Station. As she disappeared from sight, Aeliana turned her gaze back to the horizon, her thoughts swirling with a strange mix of excitement and unease.

*****

Cedric drew his blade with a sharp, metallic hiss, the sound resonating in the charged silence. The weight of the sword in his hand was a familiar comfort—a testament to years of rigorous training and discipline. Across from him, Luca stood with that same infuriating smirk, his hands casually at his sides, no weapon in sight.

'He doesn't even bother to arm himself. Does he think so little of me?' Cedric's eyes narrowed as he assessed his opponent. 'Fine. He'll regret underestimating me.'

The two stood before each other, the air thick with tension. Cedric couldn't help but recall his lineage and training. As a former knight candidate of the prestigious Valoria Dukedom—the strongest house in the Loria Empire—he had honed his skills to perfection. His father, one of the most esteemed knights, had personally overseen his training.

'I've been forged by the best. My swordsmanship is second to none among my peers. This upstart won't stand a chance.'

Cedric shifted into a ready stance, his feet planted firmly, sword poised to strike. "Draw your weapon," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

Luca shook his head.

Then his hand casually moved to the long estoc hanging at his waist, his movements unhurried, almost lackadaisical. Cedric's eyes followed the motion, his grip tightening on his own blade.

"Be careful," Luca said, his voice light, almost teasing.

The moment the estoc left its scabbard, the air around Luca shifted. The easygoing smirk faded, replaced by a glint in his eyes—a sharp, predatory focus that sent a chill down Cedric's spine.

'What…? What is this?'

Cedric felt it immediately: an invisible weight pressing down on him, as though the very air had grown heavy with Luca's presence. It wasn't mana—it wasn't anything Cedric could identify. Yet it coiled around him, insidious and unrelenting.

Luca took a single step forward, his movements slow and deliberate. "Has it started? The trembling?"

Cedric's heart jolted as he glanced down at his hand. His knuckles, so firmly gripped around the hilt of his sword moments ago, were now shaking uncontrollably.

'What is this? What's happening to me?'

The realization hit him like a blow. A knight, a warrior forged in the fires of discipline and resolve, had no room for fear. Yet his body betrayed him. The tremor in his hand spread, his entire frame now trembling under the unseen weight of Luca's presence.

"Unacceptable," Cedric growled under his breath, forcing himself to stand taller. This was a disgrace—a knight of the Valoria Dukedom did not falter before an opponent, especially not one as insolent as this.

With a deep breath, Cedric summoned his mana, channeling it through his body. The familiar warmth of power coursed through his veins, settling his nerves and steadying his movements.

'Knight's Heart.'

It was a foundational technique, taught to knights at a young age to steel their minds and fortify their bodies against external forces. As the mana surged, Cedric felt his strength returning, his control reasserting itself.

'This insolent fool… He must have used some underhanded trick. That's the only explanation.'

Cedric's eyes snapped to Luca, who stood calmly, his estoc held lightly in one hand. The faintest smirk began to reappear on Luca's lips, as though he were silently mocking Cedric's recovery.

Rage flared within Cedric. He would not allow himself to be toyed with.

"Enough games!" Cedric bellowed, mana flaring around him as he launched forward, his blade drawn in a powerful arc. The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly as he surged ahead, his years of training in perfect harmony with his mana-fueled speed.

'I will end this with one strike.'

[Blade of Eastern Guardian. Shattering End.]

Chapter 379: Sheathed Blades

Cedric surged forward, his blade gleaming with a faint blue aura as mana coursed through it. The ground beneath his feet cracked further with each step, the force of his movement a testament to the technique he was about to unleash.

[Blade of Eastern Guardian. Shattering End.]

It was a move taught to him by his father, a masterful technique passed down through generations of knights in the Valoria Dukedom. Designed to overwhelm and shatter an opponent's defenses, it was a strike of absolute precision and devastating power. Cedric had never failed with this technique, not even during the grueling sparring matches of his training.

'This ends now.'

As he closed the distance, Cedric's focus narrowed. Every muscle in his body moved with purpose, the mana in his veins flowing in perfect harmony with his strike. His longsword arced downward with unstoppable force, aimed directly at Luca's center.

But then, as the blade descended, Cedric caught the flicker of a movement—a faint blur that defied expectation.

'What is that?'

Luca's estoc moved, but it was not a single blade responding to the attack. For a brief moment, it appeared as though an entire circle of blades surrounded him, each moving in perfect synchronization. The estoc in Luca's hand blurred, creating the illusion of simultaneous strikes that encompassed every angle.

'Impossible. He has one blade, just one—how can it feel like a dozen?'

The air itself seemed to shiver under the force of the motion, and Cedric felt a cold pressure creep along his spine. His attack, which had been flawless in execution, met not with resistance but with a calculated redirection.

The force of his strike dissipated, absorbed and deflected by the simultaneous movements of Luca's estoc. The momentum that Cedric had built, the power he had poured into the Shattering End, crumbled as his sword was swept aside, his balance faltering.

'No—this can't be.'

Luca's eyes, now sharp and predatory, locked onto Cedric's. The casual smirk had been replaced with something far more dangerous—a calm, focused intensity that radiated confidence.

SWOOSH!

Cedric's instincts screamed at him, and he reacted instantly, raising his blade into a defensive motion.

「Steel Veil Guard.」

His sword came up in a sweeping arc, positioning himself to intercept Luca's next attack. The technique was one of the most versatile defensive maneuvers he knew, designed to redirect successive strikes with minimal movement while maintaining balance.

But then he heard it.

"Shallow."

Luca's voice was soft, almost dismissive, but it carried a weight that made Cedric's pulse quicken.

The estoc moved.

Luca's first strike came in low, aiming for Cedric's left side. Cedric adjusted his stance, pivoting slightly and angling his blade downward to deflect the thrust. The estoc slid harmlessly past, its trajectory redirected with precision.

The second strike was immediate, a high thrust that aimed for Cedric's right shoulder. He twisted, stepping back with his left foot while raising his sword to meet the attack. The clash of steel rang out as Cedric successfully parried again, though the sheer speed of the exchange forced him to adjust rapidly.

But then came the third.

Luca shifted his weight subtly, his right foot sliding forward in a fluid, almost imperceptible motion. His body leaned slightly, creating an illusion of imbalance—an intentional feint designed to mislead. Cedric, already strained from the rapid exchanges, instinctively moved to counter what he thought would be a straightforward thrust to his midsection.

Instead, Luca rotated his wrist mid-strike, his estoc veering off its apparent path. The blade darted upward at an unexpected angle, targeting Cedric's sword arm. Cedric swung to deflect, but the force of his counter was too hard, too committed.

'No—'

The impact threw Cedric's balance off. His stance faltered, his feet skidding slightly as he overextended to compensate. Luca's movement capitalized on the error immediately.

With a swift pivot, Luca turned his body, his left foot planting firmly behind him for stability. He spun with perfect control, bringing the estoc around in a diagonal sweep that Cedric couldn't fully track.

Cedric raised his sword in desperation, attempting to block, but the angle was all wrong. Luca's blade slipped past his guard, grazing his side with a sharp, stinging precision that left him gasping.

Luca didn't stop.

In a seamless continuation of his motion, Luca stepped inward, closing the gap between them. His free hand pressed lightly against Cedric's wrist, forcing the larger man's blade out of position. The estoc came to rest just beneath Cedric's chin, the sharp tip grazing the skin of his neck.

Cedric froze, his breath caught in his throat.

The faint sting was accompanied by a warm trickle of blood sliding down his collar, and he froze, his mind racing.

Luca leaned in, his movements unhurried and deliberate. Cedric could feel the man's breath ghosting over his ear, and his voice followed—a low, chilling whisper that seemed to cut deeper than the blade itself.

"What was it again?" Luca murmured, his tone laced with mockery and menace.

Before Cedric could respond, Luca applied the slightest pressure with the estoc, the blade biting a fraction deeper into his neck.

"Ah, yes," Luca continued, his voice now even softer, sending a shiver down Cedric's spine.

"Remember your place."

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Cedric's pulse thundered in his ears as his eyes darted to Luca's. What he saw made his blood run cold—those pitch-black eyes, now devoid of their earlier mockery, burned with an intensity that felt otherworldly. They were sharp, calculating, and brimming with a controlled danger that made Cedric's entire body tense.

"Remember it well," Luca said, his voice dropping to a near growl.

As suddenly as the moment had descended, it passed. Luca's expression shifted, the intensity melting away as a casual, easy smile returned to his face. The estoc withdrew, and Luca straightened, patting Cedric's shoulder with a gesture that was almost friendly.

"That was a fine duel, Mister Knight," Luca said, his tone light and conversational, as though they had just finished a friendly spar. "I must thank you for the opportunity."

Luca stepped back, sheathing his estoc with a smooth motion. His demeanor was entirely relaxed, his smirk back in place, as if the predator Cedric had faced mere seconds ago had been an illusion.

Cedric stood frozen, his mind struggling to reconcile the man before him with the overwhelming presence he had felt during the duel. His hand instinctively rose to his neck, his fingers brushing the shallow cut there. The faint sting and the warm, sticky blood confirmed it—none of this was a dream.

He watched as Luca turned and began to walk away, his movements casual and unconcerned, as though nothing extraordinary had happened. For a brief moment, Cedric even questioned whether the terrifying intensity he had seen in Luca's eyes was real or just a trick of his mind.

But the blood on his fingers told him otherwise.

As Luca disappeared from view, Cedric clenched his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white. His pride, his training, his resolve—all of it had been shattered in a matter of moments. Yet, more than his defeat, it was Luca's parting words that lingered.

"Remember your place."

The words echoed in Cedric's mind, leaving behind a cold, hollow feeling that he couldn't shake.

********

As Lucavion strolled away from the aftermath of the duel, his movements relaxed and his smirk intact, Vitaliara's voice cut through his thoughts with her usual teasing lilt.

[Haven't you gone a bit overboard?]

'What does that mean?' Lucavion replied inwardly, though the faint amusement in his tone made it clear he already knew what she was referring to.

[That was crushing,] Vitaliara remarked, her voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and reproach. [You didn't just win. You dismantled him—completely.]

'That's how I am,' Lucavion replied simply, his smirk deepening as he adjusted his coat. 'You know that.'

[Oh, I can see that,] Vitaliara said, her tail flicking playfully in his peripheral vision. [But… was it really just about teaching him a lesson? Or was there a little jealousy in there?]

Lucavion stopped mid-step, arching an eyebrow as he glanced to the side, as though Vitaliara were physically perched beside him. 'Jealous? Really?'

[Your reaction felt a bit excessive for someone who doesn't care,] Vitaliara pressed, her tone dipping into mock accusation. [All those whispers, the theatrics, the lingering menace. Very dramatic for a simple reminder of "place."]

Lucavion chuckled softly, shaking his head as he resumed walking. 'Let's just say, I despise entitled people.'

[Entitled?] Vitaliara's curiosity was genuine now. [That's all?]

'Yep, that's all,' Lucavion replied, his gaze drifting toward the horizon as he mulled over his words.

[Hmm…..]

But then, just as the two were about to think more, Lucavion's stride faltered slightly as a voice called out behind him.

"Mister Luca."

The tone was polite yet firm, carrying the air of someone accustomed to decorum. He turned his head, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the source. A young woman approached, her posture upright and her expression calm but purposeful. Her attire was immaculate, a dark, neatly tailored uniform adorned with subtle embroidery—distinctive but understated enough to signify her as someone's attendant.

'An attendant?' Lucavion thought, his smirk softening into a faint curve of curiosity. Interesting.

The woman came to a stop a respectful distance away, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her gaze met his briefly before she dipped her head in a formal nod. "Mister Luca," she repeated, her voice steady. "May I have a moment of your time?"

'Ah….'

Then he understood what was going on.

'Heh….'

Cedric surged forward, his blade gleaming with a faint blue aura as mana coursed through it. The ground beneath his feet cracked further with each step, the force of his movement a testament to the technique he was about to unleash.

[Blade of Eastern Guardian. Shattering End.]

It was a move taught to him by his father, a masterful technique passed down through generations of knights in the Valoria Dukedom. Designed to overwhelm and shatter an opponent's defenses, it was a strike of absolute precision and devastating power. Cedric had never failed with this technique, not even during the grueling sparring matches of his training.

'This ends now.'

As he closed the distance, Cedric's focus narrowed. Every muscle in his body moved with purpose, the mana in his veins flowing in perfect harmony with his strike. His longsword arced downward with unstoppable force, aimed directly at Luca's center.

But then, as the blade descended, Cedric caught the flicker of a movement—a faint blur that defied expectation.

'What is that?'

Luca's estoc moved, but it was not a single blade responding to the attack. For a brief moment, it appeared as though an entire circle of blades surrounded him, each moving in perfect synchronization. The estoc in Luca's hand blurred, creating the illusion of simultaneous strikes that encompassed every angle.

'Impossible. He has one blade, just one—how can it feel like a dozen?'

The air itself seemed to shiver under the force of the motion, and Cedric felt a cold pressure creep along his spine. His attack, which had been flawless in execution, met not with resistance but with a calculated redirection.

The force of his strike dissipated, absorbed and deflected by the simultaneous movements of Luca's estoc. The momentum that Cedric had built, the power he had poured into the Shattering End, crumbled as his sword was swept aside, his balance faltering.

'No—this can't be.'

Luca's eyes, now sharp and predatory, locked onto Cedric's. The casual smirk had been replaced with something far more dangerous—a calm, focused intensity that radiated confidence.

SWOOSH!

Cedric's instincts screamed at him, and he reacted instantly, raising his blade into a defensive motion.

「Steel Veil Guard.」

His sword came up in a sweeping arc, positioning himself to intercept Luca's next attack. The technique was one of the most versatile defensive maneuvers he knew, designed to redirect successive strikes with minimal movement while maintaining balance.

But then he heard it.

"Shallow."

Luca's voice was soft, almost dismissive, but it carried a weight that made Cedric's pulse quicken.

The estoc moved.

Luca's first strike came in low, aiming for Cedric's left side. Cedric adjusted his stance, pivoting slightly and angling his blade downward to deflect the thrust. The estoc slid harmlessly past, its trajectory redirected with precision.

The second strike was immediate, a high thrust that aimed for Cedric's right shoulder. He twisted, stepping back with his left foot while raising his sword to meet the attack. The clash of steel rang out as Cedric successfully parried again, though the sheer speed of the exchange forced him to adjust rapidly.

But then came the third.

Luca shifted his weight subtly, his right foot sliding forward in a fluid, almost imperceptible motion. His body leaned slightly, creating an illusion of imbalance—an intentional feint designed to mislead. Cedric, already strained from the rapid exchanges, instinctively moved to counter what he thought would be a straightforward thrust to his midsection.

Instead, Luca rotated his wrist mid-strike, his estoc veering off its apparent path. The blade darted upward at an unexpected angle, targeting Cedric's sword arm. Cedric swung to deflect, but the force of his counter was too hard, too committed.

'No—'

The impact threw Cedric's balance off. His stance faltered, his feet skidding slightly as he overextended to compensate. Luca's movement capitalized on the error immediately.

With a swift pivot, Luca turned his body, his left foot planting firmly behind him for stability. He spun with perfect control, bringing the estoc around in a diagonal sweep that Cedric couldn't fully track.

Cedric raised his sword in desperation, attempting to block, but the angle was all wrong. Luca's blade slipped past his guard, grazing his side with a sharp, stinging precision that left him gasping.

Luca didn't stop.

In a seamless continuation of his motion, Luca stepped inward, closing the gap between them. His free hand pressed lightly against Cedric's wrist, forcing the larger man's blade out of position. The estoc came to rest just beneath Cedric's chin, the sharp tip grazing the skin of his neck.

Cedric froze, his breath caught in his throat.

The faint sting was accompanied by a warm trickle of blood sliding down his collar, and he froze, his mind racing.

Luca leaned in, his movements unhurried and deliberate. Cedric could feel the man's breath ghosting over his ear, and his voice followed—a low, chilling whisper that seemed to cut deeper than the blade itself.

"What was it again?" Luca murmured, his tone laced with mockery and menace.

Before Cedric could respond, Luca applied the slightest pressure with the estoc, the blade biting a fraction deeper into his neck.

"Ah, yes," Luca continued, his voice now even softer, sending a shiver down Cedric's spine.

"Remember your place."

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Cedric's pulse thundered in his ears as his eyes darted to Luca's. What he saw made his blood run cold—those pitch-black eyes, now devoid of their earlier mockery, burned with an intensity that felt otherworldly. They were sharp, calculating, and brimming with a controlled danger that made Cedric's entire body tense.

"Remember it well," Luca said, his voice dropping to a near growl.

As suddenly as the moment had descended, it passed. Luca's expression shifted, the intensity melting away as a casual, easy smile returned to his face. The estoc withdrew, and Luca straightened, patting Cedric's shoulder with a gesture that was almost friendly.

"That was a fine duel, Mister Knight," Luca said, his tone light and conversational, as though they had just finished a friendly spar. "I must thank you for the opportunity."

Luca stepped back, sheathing his estoc with a smooth motion. His demeanor was entirely relaxed, his smirk back in place, as if the predator Cedric had faced mere seconds ago had been an illusion.

Cedric stood frozen, his mind struggling to reconcile the man before him with the overwhelming presence he had felt during the duel. His hand instinctively rose to his neck, his fingers brushing the shallow cut there. The faint sting and the warm, sticky blood confirmed it—none of this was a dream.

He watched as Luca turned and began to walk away, his movements casual and unconcerned, as though nothing extraordinary had happened. For a brief moment, Cedric even questioned whether the terrifying intensity he had seen in Luca's eyes was real or just a trick of his mind.

But the blood on his fingers told him otherwise.

As Luca disappeared from view, Cedric clenched his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white. His pride, his training, his resolve—all of it had been shattered in a matter of moments. Yet, more than his defeat, it was Luca's parting words that lingered.

"Remember your place."

The words echoed in Cedric's mind, leaving behind a cold, hollow feeling that he couldn't shake.

********

As Lucavion strolled away from the aftermath of the duel, his movements relaxed and his smirk intact, Vitaliara's voice cut through his thoughts with her usual teasing lilt.

[Haven't you gone a bit overboard?]

'What does that mean?' Lucavion replied inwardly, though the faint amusement in his tone made it clear he already knew what she was referring to.

[That was crushing,] Vitaliara remarked, her voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and reproach. [You didn't just win. You dismantled him—completely.]

'That's how I am,' Lucavion replied simply, his smirk deepening as he adjusted his coat. 'You know that.'

[Oh, I can see that,] Vitaliara said, her tail flicking playfully in his peripheral vision. [But… was it really just about teaching him a lesson? Or was there a little jealousy in there?]

Lucavion stopped mid-step, arching an eyebrow as he glanced to the side, as though Vitaliara were physically perched beside him. 'Jealous? Really?'

[Your reaction felt a bit excessive for someone who doesn't care,] Vitaliara pressed, her tone dipping into mock accusation. [All those whispers, the theatrics, the lingering menace. Very dramatic for a simple reminder of "place."]

Lucavion chuckled softly, shaking his head as he resumed walking. 'Let's just say, I despise entitled people.'

[Entitled?] Vitaliara's curiosity was genuine now. [That's all?]

'Yep, that's all,' Lucavion replied, his gaze drifting toward the horizon as he mulled over his words.

[Hmm…..]

But then, just as the two were about to think more, Lucavion's stride faltered slightly as a voice called out behind him.

"Mister Luca."

The tone was polite yet firm, carrying the air of someone accustomed to decorum. He turned his head, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the source. A young woman approached, her posture upright and her expression calm but purposeful. Her attire was immaculate, a dark, neatly tailored uniform adorned with subtle embroidery—distinctive but understated enough to signify her as someone's attendant.

'An attendant?' Lucavion thought, his smirk softening into a faint curve of curiosity. Interesting.

The woman came to a stop a respectful distance away, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her gaze met his briefly before she dipped her head in a formal nod. "Mister Luca," she repeated, her voice steady. "May I have a moment of your time?"

'Ah….'

Then he understood what was going on.

'Heh….'

Chapter 380: Sheathed Blades (2)

Aeliana's gaze remained fixed on the figure of the swordsman, Luca, even as the tension in the air began to settle. The duel had been swift—brutally so. It wasn't a drawn-out battle of attrition but a precise, devastating dismantling of Cedric's skill and pride. The sheer efficiency of it had left her both fascinated and unsettled.

'One clash,' she thought, her gloved fingers tapping against the armrest of her chair. 'Just one clash, and it was over. Is that normal?'

Her curiosity brimming, she turned her veiled face toward Madeleina, who stood silently by her side. "Madeleina," she began, her voice calm but edged with intrigue. "What I just saw… is that common? Do duels end like that so quickly?"

Madeleina's lips tightened, her expression pensive. "No, my lady. It is not normal. Most duels, even among skilled swordsmen, involve an exchange of blows—a testing of one's opponent, if you will. What you witnessed here is rare."

Aeliana's fingers stilled, her interest piqued further. "Why? Is it because Cedric wasn't skilled enough?"

Madeleina hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the magical projection that continued to display the aftermath of the duel. "I don't know much about that knight, but you have seen his performance. He was not bad in terms of fighting."

"Then…."

"It was just that his opponent was different. What that adventurer named Luca displayed…" She trailed off her brow furrowing. "It was more than skill. It was dominance. He didn't just defeat Cedric; he dismantled his every move with precision."

Aeliana's lips pressed into a thin line beneath her veil. 'Dominance,' she repeated inwardly, her thoughts swirling.

'Can one even be that dominant? What does that even mean?'

Her gaze drifted back to the projection, where her attendant was now approaching Luca. The timing of her arrival had been impeccable, just as the duel concluded, allowing Aeliana to witness the entire exchange.

"Madeleina," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "I chose well. This… was worth watching."

Madeleina glanced at her, her expression measured. "Indeed, my lady."

Just then they heard the sound.

"Mister Luca."

The attendant reached the group surrounding Luca, her posture upright and demeanor calm as she stepped forward. Despite her simple attire, her bearing exuded the quiet authority of someone representing the Thaddeus Duchy. She stopped a respectful distance from the swordsman and inclined her head slightly.

"May I have a moment of your time?" she began, her voice measured and polite. "I am Seria, a representative from the Thaddeus Duchy. If possible, I have some questions to ask regarding your recent performance."

Luca turned, his dark eyes catching the light as they flicked to Seria. A faint glint of something unspoken—curiosity, mischief, or perhaps both—shimmered in his gaze. For a brief moment, it felt as though he wasn't just looking at Seria but through her, as if he could sense something more.

On the distant ship, Aeliana stiffened in her seat, her gloved hand tightening around the armrest. Through the magical projection, she saw the faint glint in Luca's eyes, and a strange unease crept over her.

"Madeleina," she murmured, her voice low but tinged with concern. "Is it just me, or does it feel like he's looking directly at me?"

Madeleina tilted her head slightly, her expression calm as she replied, "That would be impossible, my lady. This magical device is a new development, and it's highly unlikely an adventurer such as him would know of its existence, let alone perceive it."

Aeliana nodded slowly, though the unease remained. Her gaze returned to the projection, her focus sharp as she watched the interaction unfold.

Luca's smirk deepened, his expression casual as he regarded Seria. "Thaddeus Duchy, you say? A pleasure to meet you, Seria of the illustrious duchy." His tone was light, almost playful, as he inclined his head in a mockery of a formal bow. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Seria's eyes narrowed slightly, though her polite demeanor didn't falter. "Your combat prowess during the battle and the duel was remarkable, Mister Luca," she began, her voice smooth and measured. "It's rare to see such precision and power in someone among the ranks of adventurers. You stood out."

Luca tilted his head slightly, the ever-present smirk on his lips deepening. "Why, thank you. I do try my best to make an impression."

Seria's fingers twitched subtly at her sides, the only indication of her growing frustration. "It wasn't merely an impression," she pressed, her tone still polite but firmer now. "Your techniques are… unorthodox, yet highly refined. Most adventurers rely on brute force or basic tactics, but you seem to wield a style that is—shall we say—distinct."

"Distinct?" Luca repeated, pretending to mull over the word as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that's one way to put it. I've always been a fan of standing out in a crowd, you know. Life's too short to be boring."

Seria's smile tightened, and she leaned forward slightly. "Indeed. But such refinement suggests formal training, perhaps even tutelage under a renowned master. Would that be correct, Mister Luca?"

Luca's eyes sparkled with mischief as he waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. I've had my share of teachers, but most of what you saw was self-taught. Improvisation, you might say. I'm a quick learner."

Aeliana's gloved fingers gripped the armrest tightly as she watched the exchange unfold. "Is he serious?" she muttered under her breath, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "He's dodging every question."

Madeleina, standing beside her, maintained her composure but allowed herself a faint sigh. "It would seem so, my lady."

Seria pressed on, undeterred. "Improvisation alone rarely achieves such mastery," she said smoothly. "Particularly in combat techniques that exhibit such precision. It's as if you've honed your craft through years of dedicated practice. Surely, that's not something one picks up casually?"

Luca's smirk didn't waver. "Years of practice? Oh, absolutely. It's amazing what you can learn when you're motivated." He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "Would you believe I once trained with a troupe of performers? Their tricks were… inspiring."

Seria blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "Performers?" she echoed, her voice betraying a hint of disbelief.

"Indeed," Luca said, nodding sagely. "They had this amazing act where they balanced swords on their noses while juggling fire. I might have picked up a thing or two from them." His grin widened as he added, "Though I must admit, I never quite mastered the juggling part."

On the distant ship, Aeliana's forehead twitched with annoyance. "He's mocking her," she hissed, her voice low but seething. "How can someone like him be so insufferably flippant?"

Madeleina's expression remained neutral, though her patience was clearly being tested. "He is… unconventional," she said diplomatically. "But I believe he knows exactly what he's doing."

Seria, to her credit, recovered quickly, her lips curving into a tight but still polite smile. "Your sense of humor is as sharp as your blade, Mister Luca. But surely, there's more to your story than juggling and sword tricks?"

Luca chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh, I'm sure there is. But where's the fun in giving everything away at once? A little mystery keeps things interesting, don't you think?"

Seria's composure cracked for the briefest of moments, her brows twitching as she struggled to maintain her polite facade. "Of course," she said, her tone clipped. "But some mysteries are worth unraveling, especially when they could prove beneficial to the right people."

Luca's smirk softened, his gaze briefly flicking to the projection device Seria carried—a movement subtle enough that Aeliana wouldn't have noticed had she not been watching so closely. "Ah," he said, his tone almost playful. "I suppose it depends on who's asking, doesn't it?"

Aeliana's breath caught as she once again felt that strange sensation, as though his words were aimed not just at Seria but at her as well. It made her stomach twist, her irritation mingling with unease.

Seria, unaware of the tension on the distant ship, inclined her head slightly. "The Thaddeus Duchy values skill and talent, Mister Luca. Perhaps there's a place for someone like you among us."

Luca's dark eyes shifted slightly, his smirk never faltering. As Seria spoke, they seemed to linger—not on her, but somewhere beyond. A subtle, fleeting glance that made Aeliana's chest tighten beneath her layers of fabric. It was as though he were looking through the magical projection directly at her.

"The Thaddeus Duchy," Luca said, his tone still light, but there was an edge to his words now, a faint undercurrent of something sharper. "Quite the prestigious name. It's always nice to know when one's actions catch the attention of… watchful eyes."

Aeliana's breath hitched, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of her armrest. For a moment, it felt as though he was speaking directly to her, his voice carrying an unnerving weight that sent a chill down her spine.

On the ship, Madeleina noticed her lady's unease. "My lady?" she asked softly, her brow furrowing with concern.

"Did you hear that?" Aeliana whispered, her voice low and laced with tension. "That tone—did he…?" She trailed off, her words tangling with her rising discomfort.

Madeleina followed Aeliana's gaze to the projection, her expression calm but thoughtful. "It's unlikely, my lady," she replied evenly. "The magical device is cutting-edge technology, developed to remain undetectable. He couldn't possibly know."

Luca's smirk widened slightly, his gaze snapping back to Seria as if nothing had happened. "But alas," he continued, his voice returning to its carefree lilt, "I must decline your generous offer. Freedom suits me too well to trade it for anything else, no matter how tempting."

Seria's polite smile remained, though the little twitch at the corner of her mouth and the tension in her posture betrayed her frustration.

"I-is that so?" she said, inclining her head. "Thank you for your time, then Mister Luca."

"Thank you for your time too, Miss Seria."