"It's unfair to Bairon. He has given so much to Sailport. Without him, we wouldn't have stood a chance against those Dark Magi," Matthew couldn't help but comment.
"Indeed, Sailport should forever be indebted to him," William agreed, but quickly added, "However, he was the one who initiated this duel."
"I heard about it. Rueel, through his tricks, transferred the inheritance rights of the Magus Tower, originally belonging to Bairon, to Lawrence. Bairon's younger sister couldn't accept it and vented her frustration. Unfortunately, she was punished for it. By chance, Bairon returned just in time to witness that scene," Matthew sighed, "You know how much Bairon loves his family."
"Oh, you're referring to Miss Evelyn? I've heard of her but never met her. Rumor has it she's a Greyscale patient..." William mentioned.
Matthew nodded, "Yes, Bairon once brought her to the church to seek my help. But as you know, some afflictions are beyond the cure, no matter how advanced the healing spell."
"Poor Bairon. This world has been especially cruel to him," William remarked sympathetically. "Let's talk about something else, Father. When will you head to the Shadeveil Mountains to guard the relic gate?"
"That's not exactly a delightful topic, Mr. Mayor!" Matthew exclaimed, visibly irritated.
He was supposed to have started his shift at the Shadeveil Mountains four days ago.
With Bairon conveniently skipping his duties, their team's strength had considerably diminished.
But Rueel thought having a Chanting Magus attend Lawrence's duel would be more prestigious, so he postponed Matthew's departure by five days.
Matthew felt increasingly trapped and frustrated, as if he was a mere pawn in someone's game.
"No, you misunderstood me. I meant to invite you to my home before you head to the mountains," William hastily clarified.
Matthew inquired, "What's the matter?"
"Margaret fainted, unable to bear the blow of our family losing five shipyards in total," William said with a crestfallen expression.
"Do you still plan on marrying Anna off to Lawrence then?" Matthew inquired with keen interest.
"Without a magus of the Red Bloodline, it's as if we've lost everything, Father," William replied.
The sentiment was clear.
Matthew glanced behind William, noting the absence of Miss Anna, and speculated that the atmosphere at the Jona family estate must have been quite dire in recent days.
Just then, a voice rang out, "Look, it's Bairon!"
Both Matthew and William turned to follow the source of the exclamation.
A young man with jet-black hair and eyes as deep as the night sky, wearing a gray magus robe, approached the dueling field.
"Is he still a Gray Robe magus?" William exclaimed in astonishment.
Among commoners, it was customary to refer to a magus's rank by the color of their magus robe.
Those in gray, the lowest rank, were known as Apprentice Magus or "Gray Robe magus".
"No, he's an Intermediate 2nd ring magus," Matthew corrected, squinting slightly.
As a Chanting Magus, he possessed certain spells that allowed him to discern another's spell level with precision.
After a brief assessment, Matthew commented, "And his Mindergy is remarkably stable."
"Do you think he's trying to conceal his true strength to spring a surprise attack on Lawrence?" William theorized, then shook his head dismissively.
"But that's unlikely to work!"
Not only was Lawrence an Intermediate Magus, but he also had the awakened Red Bloodline.
The higher the magus Bloodline, the greater the control over their spells.
This inherent advantage from the Bloodline, combined with the backing of his family (despite being an illegitimate child for now), made Lawrence formidable.
Matthew shook his head, "No, he's just trying to save money."
"Save money?" William responded, clearly perplexed.
"The Magus Guild provides newly awakened, lower-ranking magi with a complimentary gray magus robe," Matthew explained.
"However, robes of the green color and above come at a personal cost. Bairon simply doesn't wish to spend that money."
"He must earn a decent income, right? Why be so frugal?" William's astonishment grew.
Even an Apprentice Magus, or a Gray Robe, would earn a significant income in Sailport.
"Don't judge a stranger through a lens of malice, Mr. William," Matthew replied, a stern expression on his face. "He's saving for Evelyn's Greyscale treatment."
"Oh, I apologize," William hastily offered, but curiosity nudged him further. "Can Greyscale be cured?"
"Perhaps, but one thing is certain: without money, it can't," Matthew, wearied by the conversation's lack of tact, interjected, "Let's focus on this rare duel, Mr. William."
With Bairon's arrival, both the invited commoners and fellow magi held their collective breath.
A duel in Sailport's magus arena was an infrequent event, perhaps once every five or six years.
And a duel involving a magus of the Red Bloodline, a phenomenon seen perhaps once in a century, was all the more extraordinary.
"Bairon, you're punctual," announced a voice as Rueel made his entrance.
Right behind him was Lawrence, donning a blue magus robe adorned with five white rings around its cuffs.
Whispers of astonishment rippled through the audience.
Only Bairon seemed slightly impatient.
The outcome of the duel was apparent to him, and any delay was merely eating into his study time for sculpture.
"Lawrence is an Intermediate 5th ring magus. Bairon's chances of victory have diminished even further," Matthew sighed.
"Do you truly believe Bairon stands a chance, Father?" William inquired.
Matthew offered no response, placing trust in his intuition. Bairon reminded him of a wolf in the wilderness; unless absolutely sure, he wouldn't engage in the hunt. But now, the disparity in their levels seemed even more glaring.
"Damn it, Rueel must've provided Lawrence with numerous mana cores!" Matthew muttered under his breath.
In the stands,
"Lawrence, go and with his blood, show all the dignitaries of Sailport who will rule this city in the future," Rueel commanded, pointing towards Bairon.
"Yes, Father!" Lawrence nodded, though a subtle sneer crossed his lips unnoticed.
Rueel, evidently pleased by the title "Father," promised, "Once you win the duel, I'll formally proclaim your Walton lineage."
With a suppressed feeling of revulsion, Lawrence stepped onto the dueling ground.
"Bairon, the magi of Sailport are all trash. Only you are worth a second glance," Lawrence whispered, gazing at his imminent opponent.
Given the vastness of the duel arena, unless someone shouted, the spectators couldn't overhear the exchange.
Bairon furrowed his brow, "You aren't Lawrence?"
"Of course, I am Lawrence. But Lawrence is also me," Lawrence retorted with a malicious grin.
"I see. Rueel truly is a fool, unable to discern whether his own son is real or not," Bairon concluded.
"You knew?" A murderous glint appeared in Lawrence's eyes. "Then there's all the more reason to eliminate you."
"Wind Blade!"
With a flick of Lawrence's wrist, a Wind Blade sped towards Bairon.
"Ice Blast!"
With a swift motion, Bairon summoned a rectangular ice shield, twenty centimeters thick, before him.
As the Wind Blade collided with the ice barrier, it shattered instantly.
Bairon, utilizing the Lightness spell, swiftly evaded to the side.
From the stands, Rueel erupted in laughter. "Ha! Lawrence's Wind Blade is three times mightier than mine! Truly worthy of one possessing the Red Bloodline!"
"All thanks to you, Chief Steward, for your teachings!"
"Congratulations, Chief Steward!"
"Lord Lawrence surely has a boundless future ahead!"
Various magi, merchants, and council members eagerly offered their flattering remarks.
William was not to be outdone and showered Lawrence with praises.
To them, the outcome of this duel seemed predetermined from the outset.
Only Father Matthew, watching the duel below, appeared deep in thought, his mind somewhere distant.
In the duel arena, Bairon lifted his hand, whispering, "Ice Blast!" In an instant, Lawrence's limbs were encased in ice.
"Such a trick might work against a fool like Snooty, but against me?" Lawrence sneered, murmuring "Flames."
Serpents of fire manifested around him, morphing into a wall of fire.
The ambient temperature soared, and the ice melted away.
"Come, Bairon. Show me how potent your Ice Blast is against a magus of the Red Bloodline!" Lawrence taunted, his smile smug.
Raising his hand, Bairon channeled all the residual Mindergy stored within his magus ring into his being.
"Ice Blast!"
A conical icicle, roughly a meter in length with a base diameter of twenty centimeters, materialized just outside the serpentine wall of flames.
It angled towards Lawrence, its sharp point aimed directly at him.
However, a distance of two meters separated them, with the searing heat from the wall of fire acting as a barrier.
"For an Intermediate Magus, creating such a pristine icicle is commendable," Lawrence remarked with a cold smirk. "But unless you can make it grow beneath my feet, it's quite..."
Before he could finish, the icicle began to emit a faint, creaking sound. Its interior was fracturing.