The slave troops raised under the second son, Wolfram, who commanded the Argent Family's forces.
Among them, only a precious few were recognized as formal knights despite their slave status, thanks to their exceptional talents.
And among those rare few, only four had perfectly embodied strength, loyalty, and madness—catching the eye of Family Head Agram himself, not some mere "heir." They alone bore the title.
Black Iron Knights.
They were the very swords of Argent.
They knew no deprivation.
Their helmets were forged from the ice scales of salamanders that dwelled in the northern winters, and their plate armor was masterfully crafted from refined scales harvested from eastern dragons.
But the true masterpiece was the blades they wielded.
Pitch-black longswords, refined from a special black iron mined solely from the demon realm's veins at the continent's heart, where endless darkness writhed.
Their hardness was laughable compared to ordinary steel, boasting overwhelming might that rivaled enchanted artifact swords.
Yet such a sword had shattered.
The shock and silence that blanketed the dueling arena was fleeting.
Garin, having frozen in astonishment, drew a sharp breath and gazed down at the scattered remnants of his blade.
And then—
The moment he caught sight of Piel's movement, his battle instincts flared back to life.
From the young fox beastkin's arm, a shield etched with a dragon pattern slowly lifted into position.
A small, fragile frame.
A torn maid outfit.
Trembling breaths.
Yet... the girl raised her shield squarely forward, as if the Dragon Pattern Shield itself were aiming at Garin.
In that instant, Garin sensed it instinctively.
'It's not over yet!'
His entire body shuddered with the premonition of battle.
And as expected, alongside the Annihilation Strike Shield, Piel summoned a second barrier.
From the dragon pattern at the front of the Feedback Shield—which amplified and returned every shock she had endured twofold—a single beam of light flashed.
Boom!
"Pfft?!"
"G-Garin?!"
"A Black Iron Knight...?"
"He got hit with 'feedback' from that kid?!"
The explosive roar that shook the arena hurled the backlash straight through Garin's armor, rattling his internal organs.
And in that momentum, the Black Iron Knight Garin hurtled past Syl, embedding himself into the arena wall—a sight no one could have foreseen.
Syl's face twisted for the first time.
Not in surprise or anger, but in a sense of crisis.
Wolfram and Seratina froze without a word.
Black Iron Knight.
The elite representing the Argent Family.
One of them... had been sent flying by a young beastkin slave discarded like a sack of straw just a month ago.
If this had been an officially broadcasted gladiatorial match rather than an internal Proxy Blood Fate, it would have rocked the entire continent.
"Garin... what are you doing?! Get up already! This makes it look like I lost!!"
The black knight, half-embedded in the wall with only his lower body visible.
It was so absurd that Syl, fearing he might actually be down, screamed at the top of her lungs.
And after a moment of silence.
Clank.
"My apologies, Lady Syl. I was... no, severely careless."
With those words, Garin shook off the debris and rose.
Bloodstains marred the front of his helmet, but he bowed deeply in apology, as if this were mere morning calisthenics.
"...Haha, ha! Yeah, that's more like it! Gotta show at least that much to be my guard knight!"
Syl exhaled in relief, her face a mix of shock and pride.
Garin casually tossed aside the hilt of his broken sword.
As if it were worthless scrap.
When he slowly paced across the arena floor to face Piel once more, the little fox beastkin held her shield aloft, her gaze unwavering.
Garin murmured lowly at the sight.
"Girl. Your name... Piel, was it?"
"Yes?"
"I apologize for my 'mistakes' up to now."
"...Mistakes?"
Garin's voice sank even lower.
"Indeed. Until moments ago, to me, you were no different from some insect I'd unwittingly crushed."
Piel's ears twitched sharply.
"But... that blow just now made me realize."
Garin's presence shifted.
The air compressed around them, and every hair on Piel's body stood on end.
"You are no longer a pathetic bug. You are a clear 'enemy.'"
As his words ended, the overwhelming killing intent unique to Black Iron Knights engulfed the arena.
"So from now on... I'll face you with the sincerity due an enemy."
Garin's form shattered from Piel's vision.
And immediately after, pressure stabbed at the base of her spine.
"Guhk?!"
Her breath burst out in a scream as her small body launched forward; before she could right herself in midair, Garin's hand had already seized her by the hair.
The next was the ground.
Thud!
The floor cracked, shards flying everywhere.
Before Piel could even roll away, Garin's shadow loomed over her.
"Ha...!"
A brief gasp to catch her breath.
The moment his hand gripped her nape, he hoisted her up and hurled her toward the wall right beside where he'd been embedded moments ago.
Krunch!
Bricks burst, cracked, and crumbled, the sound tearing at their ears.
The little beastkin's body dangled upside down, embedded in the wall, swaying.
That sight conveyed an absolute gap anyone could understand.
The fleeting counterattack Piel had shown at first—that slender thread of hope—seemed utterly severed in this moment.
"Lady Syl. That should settle it."
Garin glanced briefly at the wall where Piel was lodged.
"The opponent was unexpectedly strong, so I damaged her a bit... but I controlled my strength as much as possible."
"As expected of Garin! Haha... for a second there, I thought you were getting pushed, and my heart nearly stopped!"
"I am Argent's blade of obsidian. I cannot bring such dishonor to my lord."
Garin knelt on one knee in fealty, and Syl, her fear lifted, jumped up and down clapping gleefully.
The spectators were the same.
Most of the servants rose with reactions like "As expected" or "That poor beastkin is done for...," while even Wolfram and Seratina were already pondering their next moves.
'The judge just needs to blow the horn, and it's over.'
Such was the atmosphere.
But in that instant.
"Who said to blow the horn flute now?"
Agram's low, heavy voice crushed the arena.
"F-Family Head...?"
The two heirs froze in unison.
The judge halted with the flute to his lips.
And right then.
"Lady Syl, then I'll go wrap things up—"
"Garin?"
Something erupted from beneath the black knight's helmet with a splat!
"Pfft?! Guhk...!"
Blood surged up like reflux from within the sealed metal.
"G-Garin?! What in the—"
As Syl cried out in shock and turned toward the wall where Piel had been slammed, it happened.
Krunch!!!
The sturdy stone wall split open from within, and amid the dust, a girl's silhouette emerged.
Blood streamed from her arms and legs, her maid outfit in tatters.
But the tip of the shield in her small hand was raised like a blade.
And her voice was not that of the child who'd been pinned to the wall moments ago.
"You thought that was enough to take me down?!"
It was Piel.
In a flash, she slipped beside the kneeling Garin and slammed the shield's edge down onto his helmet—
Krunch! Krunch! Krunch!
Steel screamed as Garin's body rocked backward.
Seizing the opening, Piel mounted him, pinning his chest and hammering the shield down relentlessly.
"I'm! Still! Fine!!"
Eyes beyond human limits.
Utterly feral, the shield battered the helmet at insane speeds.
"H-Hiiik?!"
As metal wailed and shards flew before her eyes, Syl's legs buckled, nearly collapsing.
But Garin was Garin, after all.
As Piel swung again, a thick hand shot out like lightning, twisting into her hair.
The next instant, her small body flipped through the air and crashed into the arena's center.
Before her back hit the ground, the sky darkened.
"You've got grit... but that's as far as you go!"
Boom!
His kick slammed down, resonating through the entire arena.
The floor split, dust exploding and wafting to the spectator stands.
...It looked finished.
However.
"What...!"
Where Garin's strike should have landed, the morphed Annihilation Strike Shield had interposed itself.
A speed she couldn't match before now aligned perfectly for defense.
She even barely blocked the follow-up as he lunged to pin her.
Her wrist, which should have trembled, held firm instead.
An incomprehensible scene.
Garin was certain.
'...Growing mid-battle? In just these few exchanges?'
No genius could achieve such speed.
Yet this girl was undeniably growing stronger, layer by layer.
Then, a thunderous laughter cleaved the arena.
"Kuhahahahaha!!"
Like an explosive thunderclap.
It was Family Head Agram's laugh.
The sight alone was an upset.
This laughter that shook the family could freeze even Black Iron Knights with its weight.
And the real surprise came next.
"To think you even knew how to do something like that! Lucas Argent!!"
"Young Master Lucas...?"
The focus wasn't on Piel or Garin.
It was Lucas, who had quietly watched from behind.
Yet he stood there bearing the same wounds, the same bloodstains, the same labored breaths as Piel.
It was no coincidence.
Only then did Garin realize.
Why Piel had leaped back after the first strike.
Why she suddenly matched his speed.
Why this "impossible" growth unfolded before his eyes.
The girl wasn't fighting alone.
This battle had been a joint one between Piel and Lucas from the start.
📜 CONTRACT MAGIC 📜"This is a 'contract.' Until this Proxy Blood Fate ends, Piel's growth rate accelerates abnormally. And half the damage she takes, I bear in her stead. In exchange, the moment we lose, Lucas Argent's and Piel's hearts stop instantly on the spot."
read 60 plus chapters at NovelsHub.org