As nightfall approached, squires and Dwarven craftsmen began assembling the dueling stage. The final match didn't start immediately because all three contenders—Bodrick, Marius, and the Wood Elf Lord Estel—had fought several rounds and were already fatigued and slightly injured. They took a moment to rest while waiting for the stage to be completed.
During this time, an interesting event occurred: two knight-errants, Cedric from Le-Angoulin and Potter from Lyonnais, requested Ryan's permission to engage in a death duel.
What is a death duel?
It's an unrestricted fight between two knights that continues until one of them surrenders or dies. This brutal form of combat is only chosen when the knights harbor such deep-seated hatred for each other that it cannot be resolved through negotiation.
"My king, I earnestly ask you: is this duel for mere entertainment or honor?"
"Absolutely not. One must die!"
—Second Knight King "Lewis the Reckless" at the Royal Tournament's highest command
Ryan was initially reluctant to permit the death duel, but both knights insisted. Since this was a traditional form of honor, and the Lady of the Lake had no objections, Ryan agreed.
It was said that Cedric and Potter were fighting over a beautiful lady named Le-Wint, each harboring a grudge so deep that only death could settle it. No one knew who had stolen the other's love, but the animosity between them was palpable. Ryan could only shake his head, remarking, "This is an old story. People love watching these romantic disputes; after all, they never tire of such spectacles."
"Heh~," Veronica teased as she leaned in from behind, smiling playfully in Ryan's ear. "Isn't that how it always is? You once told me that people love a good show. Whether you like it or not, who do you think you are?"
"Haha, indeed!" Ryan laughed as he pinched the cheek of the mischievous witch. "But that was before. Back then, I was just one of the people. Now, I'm the king. If I don't like it, it won't happen. And, my dear, are you trying to use the sword of the old reign to cut down the new king?"
"Guards, take this witch and prepare her. Send her to my chambers," Ryan declared with mock seriousness. "I'll personally ensure she experiences the full extent of my lance technique."
The Lady of the Lake couldn't help but giggle at Ryan's humor.
"Woo woo~" Veronica feigned fear, quickly hiding behind Surya. "Surya, you see? Men change as soon as they have power and money! You have to keep him in check; you're our only hope!"
Surya secretly envied Veronica's carefree banter with Ryan, her ability to ignore his increasingly intimidating aura. The Queen of Bretonnia smiled, taking Ryan's hand. "Ryan isn't that kind of person, Lady Veronica. Perhaps you should sacrifice yourself to calm the king's anger."
"Hahahaha!" The royal box burst into laughter, with Morgiana joining in as memories surfaced.
With some time before the final duel, and after an afternoon of watching matches, everyone was a bit hungry. An array of food was brought to the stands. While the Lady of the Lake only took a few fruits, the others eagerly ate and rested.
"It's a shame Devonhill didn't come. This grand tournament would have been a great experience for him and beneficial for his future," Surya remarked as she gracefully cut into her juicy steak and twirled some pasta with her fork, lamenting the absence of the young prince.
Devonhill had skipped the afternoon's tournament, having been invited to a private gathering by his uncle, Angron. The young boy, close to his uncle, eagerly accepted, and Ryan thought it best not to expose him to such violent spectacles at a young age. So, Devonhill went with Angron.
Surya was still concerned. "I wonder how he's doing, and what he's having for dinner."
"Don't worry, Surya. Devonhill is with Uncle Angron; nothing could go wrong," Ryan reassured her. "You can rest easy."
"I'm not worried about that. I just think it might have been good for him to feel the atmosphere here," Surya admitted.
"There will be plenty of opportunities in the future, my dear." Ryan smiled. Seeing that her husband had made up his mind, Surya said no more. As Ryan's wife, Surya managed the royal court but rarely opposed his decisions, a sign of their mutual understanding.
Meanwhile, in the Lion's Ring, Duke Bodrick sat on a long bench, breathing heavily. The old duke was now in his nineties, sweat pouring from his body, his limbs numb. Even as a legendary warrior, approaching a century of life made Bodrick feel like a man in his fifties. As a soldier, he felt his strength waning daily since his eightieth year, forcing him to adapt his fighting style. Yet, he couldn't compare his stamina to that of the long-lived Wood Elf Lord Estel or Marius, who, at forty, was in his prime.
Was he old? Bodrick often asked himself this question in his heart.
"Father, have something to eat." His eldest son, Fedmond, approached, offering a cup of blessed water and a few pieces of Elven bread.
These Elven biscuits, imported from the High Elf kingdom of Saphery's White Tower, could sustain a person with just one piece, quickly restoring energy without harming the stomach. Of course, their cost was as high as the Elves who made them, a luxury only afforded by great nobles.
"Fedmond." Bodrick looked at his son with a hint of affection. This was his son, who had completed the Grail Quest. Even if Bodrick fell, Fedmond would carry on. "Thank you."
"Father, don't give up. You must win. Bordeleaux must win. Bretonnia must win." Fedmond sat beside his father, eyeing his father's two opponents. "The enemy is strong, but we are the descendants of Lord Marcus, son of the Sea God. We fear no foe!"
"Indeed, never underestimate the heart of a champion." Bodrick, having rested for a while, picked up his trident and stood once more.
Meanwhile, the death duel between the two knight-errants ended with Potter killing Cedric, stabbing him through the heart to claim victory.
Squires cleared the stage, signaling that it was ready for the final match.
All three contestants—Wood Elf Lord Estel on his stag, Marius on his steed, and Bodrick on his purebred Elven warhorse—entered the stage, each standing at a corner.
Marius wielded the Elector Count's Holy Sword and a Dwarven enchanted rune sword. Estel held a sharp Elven longsword forged at the Vaul Anvil of Athel Loren. Though he usually carried a great bow, it was forbidden in this match, so he switched to a Greenleaf spear.
Bodrick wielded the Sea God's trident in one hand and a shield in the other. As they entered, they cautiously sized each other up.
Bodrick knew his age made it impossible to match the stamina of Marius and Estel. However, he had the advantage of experience, skill, and power. To seize the initiative, he needed to conserve his energy and find the right opponent.
But who would it be? The unpredictable, boastful Elector Count, or the mysterious Wood Elf?
The three cautiously approached each other. Then, under the gaze of thousands, Estel made the first move, urging his stag forward. "For Orion! For Athel Loren!"
"For the Empire! For Sigmar!"
"For Bordeleaux! For the Lady!"
The shouts rang out almost simultaneously, signaling the start of the battle.
Bodrick first engaged Estel. His purebred Elven warhorse galloped forward as the Sea God's power flowed through the trident, unleashing blinding golden light aimed at Estel's head. The Wood Elf struggled to dodge, but the trident pierced his shoulder, leaving a golden streak and a trail of blood.
Before Estel could cry out in pain, Marius's Holy Sword sliced toward his head. The Elector Count's attack was swift and deadly, accompanied by his strange pig-like battle cry. Despite anticipating the move, Estel could barely avoid it, as Marius showed no mercy, aiming to end the Wood Elf's life.
Estel's heart pounded as if it would burst. The Holy Sword was sharp enough to kill him with one strike. His limbs felt like lead.
"Clang!" A metallic clang echoed as Bodrick's trident intercepted the Holy Sword. The old duke coldly indicated that he would not allow an unfair advantage.
"Hmph!" Marius withdrew his sword, and Estel retreated, clutching his wound.
As Bodrick prepared to regroup, Marius gave him a pointed look, gesturing towards the Wood Elf.
The old duke squinted, quickly understanding Marius's intent.
Perfect. I was thinking the same.
As Estel gathered his strength for a counterattack, he suddenly found himself facing a simultaneous onslaught from both Marius and Bodrick!
The trident flashed with golden light, each thrust leaving a pungent smell of the sea. Marius's Holy Sword cut through the air in a frenzy, his battle cries growing louder as he sought to eliminate the Wood Elf first.
This is a human duel—no pointy ears allowed!
Estel roared in anger, struggling to fend off the dual assault. His weapons were no match for the Holy Sword and the trident, and soon, his body was marked by their enchanted blades.
Despite his multiple wounds,
Estel remained strong and unyielding. He blocked Marius's Holy Sword with his own, but his Greenleaf spear broke as he defended against Bodrick's trident.
Now! Bodrick shouted as his warhorse reared, thrusting the trident at Estel. The Wood Elf barely managed to block the strike with his broken spear, but Marius seized the opportunity to slash with his rune sword, tearing through Estel's chest plate and drawing more blood.
Realizing he was about to lose, Estel made a desperate decision. He couldn't lose—not to these lesser beings!
A sharp whistle pierced the night sky as a giant eagle suddenly swooped down from above. Flapping its wings, it flew toward the stage, startling both Bodrick and Marius. Bodrick ducked as the eagle's talons grazed his helmet, knocking it off his head and nearly unseating him. The old duke's face was left with a scratch, blood trickling down.
Marius was less fortunate. The eagle struck him head-on, sending him and his horse flying off the stage. The Elector Count's screams and roars of frustration echoed as he fell, utterly defeated.
"Boo!" The audience erupted in outrage. The sacred duel had been sullied by the elf's magic!
"Shameful!"
"Dishonorable!"
"Get out! Get out! Get out!"
"Dirty pointy ears, take your tricks and leave the land blessed by the Lady!"
The arena was filled with curses from Bretonnians, and even the Empire openly protested. All eyes turned to the royal box, awaiting the judgment of the just goddess and the king on the Wood Elf's blatant use of summoning magic.
Ryan frowned. The Wood Elf's tactic was indeed underhanded. As the new Knight King prepared to stand and disqualify Estel, Bodrick raised his hand to the royal box.
To everyone's surprise, the old duke signaled, "It's fine! Magical weapons are part of the duel. My Lady, Your Majesty, please let me finish this fight!"
"If that is your choice, then so be it!" Ryan agreed, seeing Bodrick's determination. The Lady of the Lake also nodded, allowing the match to continue.
"Hmph! Despicable humans, this time the champion, this golden cup, belongs to Athel Loren!" Though injured and bleeding from multiple wounds, Estel remained defiant. He would claim victory by any means necessary. If he couldn't win as a warrior, he would triumph as a spellcaster!
Despite the injuries to his shoulder, chest, waist, and arms, the Wood Elf still stood strong. He tossed aside his broken spear, raising his chipped sword. With a chant, green energy enveloped him, forming a thorny shield around his body. Green energy surged through the air, healing his wounds and enhancing his strength. Even more frightening, a whirlwind of magical blades formed from leaves, sweeping toward Bodrick, seemingly ready to consume him whole.
But the old duke was laughing—a cruel, maniacal laugh from the usually stern Duke of Bordeleaux.
What is he laughing at? Estel was puzzled.
He's about to lose!
"I said that magical weapons are part of the duel," Bodrick coughed. He tightened his grip on the reins, calming his horse. "And I possess such power as well!"
With that, the old duke suddenly raised his trident. Everyone now noticed how brightly it glowed, surrounded by a massive blue aura. The will of a true god infused the trident!
"It's Mannan! The Sea God's power!" The Empire and Bretonnian spectators gasped.
"Marselan! He has responded to this human's call," Teclis murmured. The Archmage's face was grim. "This is bad news for the Wood Elves."
Bubbles appeared in the air, and the scent of the sea filled the Lion's Ring. The next moment, a giant fist of seawater, over twenty meters in diameter, emerged from the air, carrying the Sea God's wrath as it crashed down on his enemy!
"Mannan's Wrath!"
The Sea God's fury tore through and obliterated all of Estel's spells. The giant fist shattered the thorny shield and completely destroyed the whirlwind of magical blades. Estel poured all his magic into resisting the Sea God's wrath, but the seawater that touched his wounds overwhelmed his senses with pain. And following Mannan's Wrath came the old duke's relentless assault!
They clashed again for several more rounds.
The battle had reached its climax. Duke Bodrick unleashed all his remaining strength, his trident a blur of light with each strike, gaining more ground. Estel fought back fiercely, his sword clashing against the trident's shaft. Gathering all his power, he delivered a heavy punch to Bodrick's ribs. Even through his armor, the blow broke two ribs, but the old duke remained silent, his eyes burning with determination.
Blood trickled from his gums as Bodrick felt his strength waning. His arms grew numb, his wounds bled profusely, and his energy drained away. His attempts to counterattack were hindered by his body's sluggish response.
Was this the end?
No, he couldn't lose. He was a descendant of Marcus, the Sea God's son, and his blood carried the strength of his ancestors. The tales of their glory and bravery fueled him. Marcus had defeated the Chaos Champion Svenja with this power. If Bodrick could be as strong as his ancestor…
Bodrick's silent prayer did not go unanswered. He felt a cold sensation spread from his chest to his limbs. His blood boiled as the old duke realized that his peak strength had returned!
The mighty Sea God's champion had come to restore Bodrick's failing body!
The old duke seized this newfound power, his once-weary muscles gripping the trident with renewed vigor. The Sea God's blessed weapon swept across, shattering Estel's already damaged sword. The Wood Elf staggered, his stag recoiling in fear. Bodrick yanked the reins, charging toward Estel with his trident raised.
"Never underestimate the heart of a champion!"
With one final blow, Estel let out a last, desperate scream.
Thunderous applause echoed throughout the arena as cannons fired and confetti rained down.
The champion had been crowned!
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! $5 for all!!]
[w w w . p a t r e o n .com / INNIT]
[+50 PowerStones = +1 Chapter] [+5 Reviews = +1 Chapter]