Evan wore a triumphant expression on his face as he stared at Ivan, who clutched his grazed arm.
"Once again, I'm going to humiliate you," Evan declared confidently.
Ivan's head snapped up at Evan's words, and he glared at him while tightening his grip on his sword's hilt.
"Now that you've shown yours, it's time for me to display my technique as well," Ivan mumbled to himself.
With a swift charge, Evan lunged towards Ivan. However, before he could make contact, a remarkable phenomenon occurred. As Ivan's eyes locked onto Evan, a subtle yet mesmerizing light emerged—a crescent moon seemed to glow within his irises. Bathed in this ethereal radiance, Ivan effortlessly evaded Evan's attack with grace and agility, as if guided by the lunar forces themselves. In less than a minute, he swiftly sidestepped, leaving Evan bewildered and momentarily off balance. It was a display of skill and enchantment that left both friends and adversaries in awe. Looking around, Evan found no trace of his opponent. It was as if Ivan had vanished into thin air. A shiver of fear ran down Evan's spine as he realized the danger he was in.
"This is how a true knight fights," Ivan whispered as he became a blur of motion, seamlessly transitioning between offensive and defensive maneuvers. His movements were so swift and precise that Evan was left bewildered, unable to land a single strike. "It's all about speed. If your opponent is fast enough, their attacks won't matter. You just have to dodge, not get hit," Ivan calmly explained.
The moonlight continued to dance in Ivan's eyes, casting an otherworldly glow upon his face. It was as if the celestial body itself was guiding his every move, granting him the speed and grace of a lunar spirit.
The calmness didn't last long, though, as an unexpected blow struck Evan's chest. Blood spewed from his mouth as he was sent flying backward. Rolling over, Evan struggled to catch his breath and gather his thoughts as he heard footsteps approaching him. He attempted to rise, but his body refused to move, frozen by fear.
Ivan knelt beside Evan, whispering, "I learned that from you." Evan's response was stifled as he coughed up blood, unable to utter a word. Darkness enveloped his vision, and his eyelids gradually closed. Then, everything washed over him, turning everything white.
With a smile adorning her face, Eveloria couldn't help but think, "Ivan executed the Lunar Dance sword technique flawlessly. It was truly a beautiful sight."
"The victor of this contest is none other than Lord Ivan Ashworth!" announced the heralds, their voices resounding throughout the arena. The crowd burst into a harmonious chorus of thunderous applause, a resounding acknowledgment of Ivan's triumph.
With a graceful bow, Ivan acknowledged the crowd's appreciation before striding away from the arena field.
Duke Nikolai Ashworth beamed with pride as he watched his son depart.
"Well done, my son!" the Duke exclaimed. Ivan halted in his tracks, turned to face his father, and responded with a fond shake of his head and a knowing smile.
"Your son's skill is truly remarkable, Lord Nikolai," the king remarked, a wide grin illuminating his features as he applauded.
"Of course he is. I personally trained him," Nikolai replied, brimming with satisfaction.
The other Dukes, Thornblade and Ravenshield aside, exchanged barely audible scoffs at Nikolai's assertion.
Lucian glanced at Gavriel and whispered, "Did you arrange for Eveloria to face a stronger opponent?"
"Yes, I did. But why are you orchestrating this?" Gavriel inquired in a hushed tone. "You've mentioned she couldn't master your family's sword technique. Even against the weakest opponent, she'd likely falter. So, why put her through this?"
Lucian responded with an exasperated sigh, "To shatter her resolve. Through this humiliation, she'll come to terms with her limitations." He continued, shaking his head. "Besides, she's soon to be your wife. What necessity does she have to join the royal military?" Lucian concluded.
Gavriel chuckled softly and shook his head, thinking, 'What a father you are.'
As the next match was poised to commence, Agnes Stormbourne prepared to face Briana Ravenshield. The two young women stood in the center of the arena, their gazes locked. A wide grin adorned Briana's face, while Agnes' expression remained inscrutable.
Agnes Stormbourne, the second daughter of Duke Stormbourne, stood poised on the arena's floor. She was a rival to Briana in terms of beauty, wit, and strength. Her brown skin radiated a luminous glow, a testament to her vigor and vitality. Her eyes, a striking shade of grey resembling stormy quartz, held flecks of silver that shimmered in the sunlight. These eyes were framed by expressive brows that enhanced her thoughtful gaze.
Dark, messy hair cascaded around her face like waves of luxurious silk, framing her strong features. Dressed in a loose cream tunic shirt and black trousers, Agnes exuded the practicality of a lady unafraid to get her hands dirty.
A gentle breeze caressed Agnes's locks, enhancing the elegance of her delicate facial features. The regal line of her pointed chin added an aristocratic aura to her presence.
"We haven't met before, have we?" Briana asked with a smirk.
"No, we haven't. But I've heard much about you and your brother," Agnes replied, her tone flat. Stepping forward, she executed a graceful bow and extended a small hand in greeting, the gesture oozing elegance and refinement. "I'm Briana Ravenshield."
Agnes stared at Briana stoically, her mouth forming a tight line. "I'm Agnes Stormbourne," she replied coldly, retracting her hand.
Briana chuckled softly, releasing Agnes's hand. "You must be quite confident in your sword skills to reply to me in such a manner."
Agnes arched an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. "How did I reply to you?" she inquired calmly.
Briana's forehead creased as she glared at Agnes. 'She's not only elegant and tall, but she's also challenging me intellectually. If she's stronger than me too, it will be intolerable.'
"Anyways, you are correct. I am indeed very confident in my sword skills," Agnes admitted, her voice dripping with false modesty.
Narrowing their gazes at each other, both young women thought in unison, 'I don't like her one bit.'
"Well then," Briana's grin turned wicked as she drew a deep breath and unsheathed her sword. Agnes mirrored her action, drawing her own weapon.
"Begin!" The heralds' announcement rang out, and they lunged toward each other with swords at the ready. The clash of steel against steel resonated through the arena as both blades collided. The impact produced a cacophony of ringing, accompanied by a shower of sparks and a billowing cloud of smoke. The collision generated shockwaves that sent shivers down the spines of the spectators.
Agnes and Briana continued to engage in combat, their swords clashing with intensity. Their determination to win, coupled with their competitive nature, drove them to push their limits. Each strike was executed with precision and force, as they fought fiercely, driven by the desire for victory. The audience joined in with cheers and applause, caught up in the exhilarating display of skill and determination unfolding before them.
Their swings intensified, becoming quicker, fiercer, and more forceful, causing sparks to erupt in every direction. The crowd's cheers escalated into a crescendo of screams and roars of excitement. Some voices even competed for dominance in the raucous symphony of anticipation.
Amidst the electrifying spectacle, an intriguing truth remained—both girls were holding back. Although their skills were evenly matched, their pride and honor kept them from yielding. The battle of strength and wits raged on, and despite their physical prowess, neither was foolish enough to show mercy. To do so would be an admission of vulnerability, a path they simply couldn't tread.
Their strikes persisted, each collision accompanied by a shower of sparks, enhancing the dramatic display. Finally, Agnes lunged at Briana, her target aimed at the chest. In a swift response, Briana deftly blocked the attack with her own blade, compelling Agnes to retract her sword to avoid the risk of impalement. Within a split second, Agnes pressed forward once more, launching another assault, and Briana blocked once again.
Gavriel observed the spectacle with an entertained glint in his eyes. 'What an evenly matched pair,' he mused, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
Suddenly, a resounding explosion shattered the air, causing the ground to tremble beneath their feet. The force of the shockwave made it a challenge for the onlookers to maintain their balance, forcing some of the spectators to brace themselves against the upheaval. As dust and debris spiraled into the atmosphere, a veil of smoke enveloped the scene, obscuring the combatants from view.
In an almost orchestrated synchrony, both Agnes and Briana unveiled their respective sword techniques. Briana's blade transformed into a graceful dance, weaving intricate patterns through the air that illustrated her fluidity and finesse. Her blade essence radiated a softer hue, a luminous amber that caught the sunlight in its embrace.
In stark contrast, Agnes harnessed the very essence of thunderstorms, channeling its power into her blade. With each resolute swing, tendrils of lightning crackled and danced along the edges of her sword, imbuing her attacks with an electrifying potency capable of delivering devastating damage.
Among the spectators, a collective gasp swept through the audience as they witnessed Agnes unleash the latent power within her weapon. "So, this is the Tempest Fury skill. I remember back then, it was not nearly as potent as it is now," remarked Lucian Ravenshield with a knowing glint in his amber eyes while Duke Stormbourne smirked. Meanwhile, Gavriel's gaze remained intently fixed upon the unfolding display, a sense of wonder sweeping over him. "This...this is truly an impressive display," he muttered, his voice laden with awe and admiration.
Agnes fixed her gaze upon Briana, her eyes gleaming like twin bolts of lightning, radiant with the power of an impending storm. An electric energy seemed to course just beneath her skin, causing her very presence to hum with the pulse of the tempest. With every inhalation, the air around her sizzled with static, setting the atmosphere ablaze with crackling electricity. Briana felt a shiver run down her spine as the hair on her neck stood on end in response to the charged ambiance.
Without hesitation, Agnes surged forward in a relentless attack against Briana. Her blade glowed with a coruscating lightning that crackled and danced along its length. In mere moments, Briana found herself compelled to raise her own blade for defense, the force of the impact forcing her a step back. Try as she might to retreat, a sense of entrapment settled upon her. The realization that Agnes possessed an overwhelming strength dawned upon her.
' She's incredibly powerful.' The thought raced through Briana's mind as her own energy seemed to wane. With each movement, a heaviness settled into her limbs, causing her responses to dull and her agility to diminish.