Fafner took a deep breath and readjusted his mindset, but for some reason, the sword in his hand grew heavier and heavier…
However, humiliation and anger had already clouded his mind, and he lifted his sword and charged forward again.
Mil used the same routine: he deployed a barrier, launched wind blades, and created distance between them.
After several rounds, Fafner still hadn't gained any advantage and his face gradually turned red with frustration…
Mil, on the other hand, looked like he was playing basketball with an elementary school student.
Finally, Fafner stopped his attack and suddenly distanced himself from Mil.
He held his sword with both hands, positioned it in front of his chest, and an inscription appeared on the blade:
“In the name of eternity—
Across the decaying time, shedding the curse marks of the abyss, listen…
Deep within our bloodline, the sighs of the gods remain; our first heartbeat is the primordial bell of creation.
We are the immortal guides, we are the cornerstones of reincarnation.
Wherever our wings reach, there lies the vastness of the firmament!”
Magic inscriptions flowed across the sword. In the blazing white flames, his slender body exuded a divine majesty, like a young saint holding a sword in a cathedral fresco.
The magic array that suddenly unfolded beneath his feet radiated light, as if traversing history and roaming the star sea, gathering the power accumulated over eons into him.
This was the charm of a dragon heart…
Gasps of astonishment rose and fell throughout the arena.
Magic inscription?
Mil also had one; the last time he used it was above Ice Lake Prison, and he certainly wouldn't dare to use it here.
Therefore, this duel was unfair, and poisoning was perfectly reasonable.
White light radiated from Fafner’s body, and the magic array beneath his feet dissipated, but rings of blazing white flames remained.
He swung his blade and charged at Mil again…
Mil still wanted to create distance, but at such high speed, it was simply not realistic.
Before anyone could react, Mil was already cornered.
And Fafner’s longsword was already at Mil’s neck:
“You lose!”
Instantly, a fierce cheer erupted throughout the arena, screams accompanied by applause, and Fafner’s name echoed through the entire venue—
“Fafner! So handsome!”
“Husband!”
“Long live the Platinum Wings!”
However, no one noticed the sweat on Fafner’s forehead, dripping down his cheek to his chin, drop by drop.
Mil’s lips always held a sinister, wicked smile:
“Are you in such a hurry to decide the victor? Why don’t you try cutting me?”
“My sword can cleave through any magic! Defensive spells are useless; if I strike, you will bleed on the spot!”
“How do you know if you don’t try? I’m telling you to cut, so just cut, stop dilly-dallying. Are all of you Dragon Royal Family so timid?”
Facing this provocation, Fafner gritted his teeth, but he still had a clear idea of the situation…
He suddenly raised his sword and swung it towards Mil’s hair tips.
At this moment, Mil suddenly raised his hand, using the only piece of protective gear on his entire body—a finger-length metal armguard on his wrist—
And easily bounced Fafner’s sword back…
“Clang—!”
A metallic clash sounded, and the entire arena fell into solemn silence.
The sweat on Fafner’s head had completely messed up his hairstyle; he blinked hard, feeling utterly drained.
His heart pounded incessantly, as if he had pulled eight hundred all-nighters.
Mil smirked mockingly:
“Oh? Is this the strength of the Dragon race?”
After saying that, he raised his whip—
“Crack—!”
From now on, this duel would be called “Dragon Hunter: Wilderness”!
This whip crack echoed throughout the entire dueling arena, chilling everyone’s hearts.
Fafner, refusing to believe it, raised his sword and struck again, but was once again easily blocked by Mil’s wrist.
“Clang—! Crack—!”
A whip struck his thigh, and the girls around gasped, while the timid ones already covered their eyes.
“No strength left? Come on again?”
“Impossible…”
Fafner was drenched in sweat, his silver teeth clenched, but the sword he could originally lift with one hand now required both to swing.
“Clang—! Crack—!”
“Clang—! Crack—!”
“Clang—! Crack—!”
One swing after another, all blocked by Mil with his wrist…
The entire dueling arena was as silent as a cicada in winter; though it was the scorching heat of summer, it was so cold it made people shiver.
Fafner stumbled and knelt on the ground.
Sweat trickled down his nape into his collar, and his damp, silver-white hair clung to his ears.
His torn clothes revealed his fair shoulders and collarbone, exuding a delicate beauty like a young calf.
He looked at the whip in Mil’s hand, his legs began to feel weak, and an unprecedented sense of powerlessness completely enveloped him, like falling into a hopeless quagmire.
However, Mil only lashed out with the whip after Fafner swung his sword.
This back-and-forth created a conditioned reflex—as long as he swung his sword, he would get whipped.
“Is this the Dragon race? Is this your Stryhorn Royal Family? Do you not even have the courage to swing a sword anymore?!”
Hearing Mil’s reprimand, even the instructor nearby couldn’t help but recall that distant afternoon…
But something seemed a little off?
Fafner wiped the sweat from his forehead; his previous image as an elegant young master was long gone.
He clutched his swollen thigh in pain, closed his eyes, and once again raised his sword and swung…
“Clang—! Crack—!”
This whip landed directly on his face, and Fafner’s tears streamed down from the corners of his eyes.
The instructor seemed to realize something was wrong, blew his whistle, raised his hand, and shouted loudly:
“Duel suspended!”
Fafner leaned on his sword, half-kneeling on the ground, panting heavily.
The instructor rushed forward anxiously and asked:
“Your Highness Fafner? Are you alright? Are you not feeling well?”
“I feel… no strength…”
Fafner was on the verge of collapsing, unable to even speak a complete sentence, panting heavily.
“Crack—!”
Mil, standing nearby, suddenly swung his whip, his eyes serious and cold:
“Listen, brat! I’ll tell you the truth, I warned you before the match started that there are many people who dislike you, and someone poisoned your lunch.”
Poisoning is easy to spot, so it’s better to lay it all out beforehand.
The instructor turned and angrily rebuked:
“This is a foul!”
“I didn’t poison him, do I have an obligation to warn him? In fact, I told him from the beginning, he himself is arrogant and conceited!”
Mil spread his hands, sneered, and shrugged, while the surroundings erupted in murmurs.
The Magic Knight instructor turned to Fafner and advised:
“Duels are about fairness! Your Highness Fafner, let’s compete another time?”
“Oh, oh, oh! This time you’re poisoned, so cancel the duel; next time you sprain your ankle, cancel the duel; the time after that… your neighbor’s big yellow dog dies, so you have to cancel the duel too?”
Mil’s taunts made Fafner’s face flush red, and he retorted:
“These are external factors!”
“External factors? Then I ask you, will I not face the risk of being poisoned? Will I not get diarrhea from eating before a duel? Will I not sprain my ankle before entering the arena?”
Fafner fell silent, Mil swung his long whip and roared:
“As a prince, you have a group of guards, do I? Huh? Did I not tell you before the duel? Answer me!”
These words not only stunned Fafner, but also dumbfounded the people around him; everyone looked at each other, murmuring…
Something just felt off?
Seeing Fafner caught in self-contradiction, Mil pressed on, continuing:
“Brat! Being poisoned is your own business! You were the one who initiated the duel challenge! If you no longer have the courage to swing your sword, you can be a coward and follow the instructor’s words to end the match.”
The murmuring of the crowd surged like a tide; Fafner couldn’t hear what they were saying, only felt his face burning, and finally stood up abruptly:
“Who said I wanted to cancel the duel? In the name of the Stryhorn Royal Family, I will fight to the very end!”
Though he said this, Fafner’s legs were still trembling…
His passionate words instantly ignited the entire arena; applause and cheers were incessant, and everyone present cheered him on.
However, what followed was Mil using whip after whip to completely chill everyone’s hearts…
“Clang—! Crack—!”
“Clang—! Crack—!”
“Clang—! Crack—!”
Whip after whip, until an entire afternoon passed, and Fafner finally fainted on the spot from exhaustion.
Mil smirked, a cold smile on his lips…
“With this level of skill, you still want to pursue my sister?”