As the two people got closer, the noisy venue suddenly fell silent.
She noticed that everyone was holding their breath at Barcas's alien appearance. With his sleek, finely sculpted physique and smooth, gleaming pure white skin, he looked as if he had come from another world.
Barcas wrapped his hand tightly in bandages and nodded.
“Let’s get started”
"... Then, I will go without hesitation."
The man, who had been scanning Barcas as if searching, suddenly kicked off the ground and leaped up. Thalia swallowed the scream that was about to burst out.
A massive leg struck Barcas's head like a bolt of lightning. Barcas calmly dodged the attack and immediately raised his knee toward the man's face. The man hurriedly crossed his arms and barely managed to block the counterattack, but his muscular, heavy body staggered violently and was pushed backward.
"The movement isn't bad, but the lower body isn't supporting the upper body's strength."
Barcas, who was biting the end of the bandage wrapped around his hand tightly with his molars, spat out a remark as if evaluating it. The man, who had immediately straightened his posture, glared at him with an indignant look.
"Please make your judgment on me after the sparring is over. Hasn't the test just begun?"
"Then, stop talking and bring it on."
No sooner had those words been spoken than the man kicked off the ground and ran.
Thalia squeezed her eyes shut as she saw a fist as hard as iron flying toward Barcas's face. However, no screams or drumbeats signaling the end of the match were heard.
As she quietly lifted her eyelids again, she saw a man throwing punches one after another like an agitated bison, and Barcas lightly deflecting the attacks.
Thalia let her tightly hunched shoulders droop. Even to her eyes, as a layman in combat, the gap between the two was evident. While the man's breathing was becoming increasingly ragged, Barcas was not shedding a single drop of sweat.
He grabbed the forearm as if snatching it as it narrowly grazed his face, then spun his body half a turn at a speed unbelievable even to the eye. Then, supporting the massive upper body of a man a head taller than himself with his shoulder, he effortlessly slammed him down onto the floor.
At the overwhelming sight, enthusiastic cheers erupted from the mouths of those gathered in the training ground. It seemed the showdown had been decided.
Just as she let out a small sigh of relief, Tbalia hardened her face when she saw him immediately heading into the next match.
Although she had already witnessed with her own eyes on several occasions that Barcas was a warrior of unrivaled skill, that did not mean her worries completely subsided.
She nervously tugged at the hem of Tiuran's clothes as she looked down at the sparring arena with a calm face.
"Why on earth is Barcas fighting with the knights?"
"His Excellency is the commander leading the strongest cavalry unit in the East. Selecting candidates for promotion within the Wolfram Elite Unit is one of his primary duties."
"What kind of duty is that! You could just have the subordinates do such dangerous work. The Grand Duke has no dignity...!"
At that moment, a scream of pain rang out.
Thalia turned her head back toward the training grounds and recoiled at the sight of the challenger kneeling on the floor, spewing blood from his mouth. The man, clutching his dark red, swollen face in both hands, stammered out a voice.
"Surrender! It is surrender!"
Barcas gestured with his chin as if to tell him to step back. The man, staggering to his feet, climbed over the fence with the help of the soldiers.
While a priest waiting near the training grounds cast a healing spell on him, Barcas, who was changing his dirty bandages into new ones, spoke in an indifferent voice.
"Next."
The hall, which had been boisterous and excited by the astonishing martial prowess displayed by the young Grand Duke, fell silent for a moment. He circled around the warriors of the East and spat out a provocative remark.
"This is a chance to strike a blow against your monarch without fear of losing your head. Do you intend to let it slip away?"
"You're talking big without even intending to take a hit."
At the sudden sound of a low voice, everyone's gaze turned to one spot. Thalia, who turned her head in response, spotted Lucas slowly walking across the training ground and opened her eyes wide.
It had been quite a long time since she had seen Lucas's face, as he had been spending most of his time outside the castle since taking on the role of commander of the outer guard.
Thalia looked strangely at her brother-in-law, who had grown up so much in the past few months, when Lucas, with his shirt buttons roughly unbuttoned, approached the fence and spoke.
"But I absolutely cannot let this opportunity to hit my older brother pass by."
Barcas's ice-like eyes glanced back at him.
"It looks like you've had a lot of pent-up feelings."
“It’s not a lot.”
Lucas grinned, ripped off his shirt, and tossed it haphazardly onto the floor. Then, with the agility of a cat, he leaped into the sparring arena.
Thalia furrowed her brow as she looked at Lucas's broad shoulders and his wide, tanned back. She felt a strange sense of revulsion at the transformation of the small-framed boy, who had been only slightly taller than herself when she first saw him, into a man with a threatening physique.
"If you find this uncomfortable to watch, shall we leave now?"
Tiuran, observing her complexion, asked worriedly.
Thalia shook her head. She didn't have a hobby of watching men engage in mindless power struggles, but she knew that if she turned her back now, she would inevitably be on edge, worrying that Barcas might get hurt.
She snorted cynically.
"Fine. It doesn't matter which of the two gets beaten up. I'll just feel satisfied anyway."
No sooner had she finished speaking than the sound of drums rang out, signaling the start of the duel. She stood holding Khan tightly in her arms and looked down at the sparring arena.
Lucas, who had been loosening his muscles by twisting his neck this way and that, charged toward Barcas as if springing up. It was a surprisingly fast speed.
Lucas, who had thrown his body with the flexibility of a wild beast, placed both hands on the floor and swung his leg widely toward Barcas's temple.
Barcas immediately stepped back to evade the attack, but he could not prevent the tip of the foot from narrowly grazing the nape of his neck. Lucas landed immediately on the ground, slid to create distance, grinned, and continued with the next attack.
At the unexpected skill, Thalia stood pressed against the railing with a tense expression. Lucas, who had leaped up from the ground as if performing acrobatics, stomped his heel on Barcas's shoulder.
Barcas blocked the attack by crossing his hands, grabbed Lucas's leg, and slammed him onto the ground. He threw him so mercilessly that a thick cloud of dust rose up and engulfed Lucas's figure.
Just as the judge, believing the match was decided, was about to strike the drum, Lucas sprang from behind the thick curtain and charged at Barcas once again.
A fist shot out with fierce force, grazing the side of his face. He seemed to have avoided the powerful impact thanks to quickly snapping his head back, but his lip was torn, and blood welled up.
Barcas, frowning in displeasure, charged at Lucas the next moment with lightning speed. Immediately, his fist struck Lucas's face. Lucas, who had been wearing a triumphant expression, was horribly distorted. Pushed back to the edge of the sparring arena in an instant, he leaned against the fence and spat out the blood pooling in his mouth.
"Aren't you being too harsh just because I got hit slightly on the face?"
"If I knew you were going to whine this much, you shouldn't have picked a fight in the first place."
"Damn it, seriously."
Lucas, staggering but straightening his body, wiped the corner of his mouth with his fist and assumed an attacking stance again. However, Barcas seemed to have no intention of allowing him any more opportunities to attack.
He immediately closed the distance, kicked Lucas's leg to knock him down, climbed onto his back, and twisted one of his arms.
Lucas immediately tried to turn over and escape, but Barcas had already pinned him down on the shoulder with his knee.
A declaration of surrender finally flowed from the lips of Lucas, who had been struggling beneath him.
"I lost. Please move aside."
Support Novellate!
Comments
Post a Comment