Cedric surged forward, his blade gleaming with a faint blue aura as mana coursed through it. The ground beneath his feet cracked further with each step, the force of his movement a testament to the technique he was about to unleash.
[Blade of Eastern Guardian. Shattering End.]
It was a move taught to him by his father, a masterful technique passed down through generations of knights in the Valoria Dukedom. Designed to overwhelm and shatter an opponent’s defenses, it was a strike of absolute precision and devastating power. Cedric had never failed with this technique, not even during the grueling sparring matches of his training.
‘This ends now.’
As he closed the distance, Cedric’s focus narrowed. Every muscle in his body moved with purpose, the mana in his veins flowing in perfect harmony with his strike. His longsword arced downward with unstoppable force, aimed directly at Luca’s center.
But then, as the blade descended, Cedric caught the flicker of a movement—a faint blur that defied expectation.
‘What is that?’
Luca’s estoc moved, but it was not a single blade responding to the attack. For a brief moment, it appeared as though an entire circle of blades surrounded him, each moving in perfect synchronization. The estoc in Luca’s hand blurred, creating the illusion of simultaneous strikes that encompassed every angle.
‘Impossible. He has one blade, just one—how can it feel like a dozen?’
The air itself seemed to shiver under the force of the motion, and Cedric felt a cold pressure creep along his spine. His attack, which had been flawless in execution, met not with resistance but with a calculated redirection.
The force of his strike dissipated, absorbed and deflected by the simultaneous movements of Luca’s estoc. The momentum that Cedric had built, the power he had poured into the Shattering End, crumbled as his sword was swept aside, his balance faltering.
‘No—this can’t be.’
Luca’s eyes, now sharp and predatory, locked onto Cedric’s. The casual smirk had been replaced with something far more dangerous—a calm, focused intensity that radiated confidence.
SWOOSH!
Cedric’s instincts screamed at him, and he reacted instantly, raising his blade into a defensive motion.
「Steel Veil Guard.」
His sword came up in a sweeping arc, positioning himself to intercept Luca’s next attack. The technique was one of the most versatile defensive maneuvers he knew, designed to redirect successive strikes with minimal movement while maintaining balance.
But then he heard it.
“Shallow.”
Luca’s voice was soft, almost dismissive, but it carried a weight that made Cedric’s pulse quicken.
The estoc moved.
Luca’s first strike came in low, aiming for Cedric’s left side. Cedric adjusted his stance, pivoting slightly and angling his blade downward to deflect the thrust. The estoc slid harmlessly past, its trajectory redirected with precision.
The second strike was immediate, a high thrust that aimed for Cedric’s right shoulder. He twisted, stepping back with his left foot while raising his sword to meet the attack. The clash of steel rang out as Cedric successfully parried again, though the sheer speed of the exchange forced him to adjust rapidly.
But then came the third.
Luca shifted his weight subtly, his right foot sliding forward in a fluid, almost imperceptible motion. His body leaned slightly, creating an illusion of imbalance—an intentional feint designed to mislead. Cedric, already strained from the rapid exchanges, instinctively moved to counter what he thought would be a straightforward thrust to his midsection.
Instead, Luca rotated his wrist mid-strike, his estoc veering off its apparent path. The blade darted upward at an unexpected angle, targeting Cedric’s sword arm. Cedric swung to deflect, but the force of his counter was too hard, too committed.
‘No—’
The impact threw Cedric’s balance off. His stance faltered, his feet skidding slightly as he overextended to compensate. Luca’s movement capitalized on the error immediately.
With a swift pivot, Luca turned his body, his left foot planting firmly behind him for stability. He spun with perfect control, bringing the estoc around in a diagonal sweep that Cedric couldn’t fully track.
Cedric raised his sword in desperation, attempting to block, but the angle was all wrong. Luca’s blade slipped past his guard, grazing his side with a sharp, stinging precision that left him gasping.
Luca didn’t stop.
In a seamless continuation of his motion, Luca stepped inward, closing the gap between them. His free hand pressed lightly against Cedric’s wrist, forcing the larger man’s blade out of position. The estoc came to rest just beneath Cedric’s chin, the sharp tip grazing the skin of his neck.
Cedric froze, his breath caught in his throat.
The faint sting was accompanied by a warm trickle of blood sliding down his collar, and he froze, his mind racing.
Luca leaned in, his movements unhurried and deliberate. Cedric could feel the man’s breath ghosting over his ear, and his voice followed—a low, chilling whisper that seemed to cut deeper than the blade itself.
“What was it again?” Luca murmured, his tone laced with mockery and menace.
Before Cedric could respond, Luca applied the slightest pressure with the estoc, the blade biting a fraction deeper into his neck.
“Ah, yes,” Luca continued, his voice now even softer, sending a shiver down Cedric’s spine.
“Remember your place.”
The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Cedric’s pulse thundered in his ears as his eyes darted to Luca’s. What he saw made his blood run cold—those pitch-black eyes, now devoid of their earlier mockery, burned with an intensity that felt otherworldly. They were sharp, calculating, and brimming with a controlled danger that made Cedric’s entire body tense.
“Remember it well,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a near growl.
As suddenly as the moment had descended, it passed. Luca’s expression shifted, the intensity melting away as a casual, easy smile returned to his face. The estoc withdrew, and Luca straightened, patting Cedric’s shoulder with a gesture that was almost friendly.
“That was a fine duel, Mister Knight,” Luca said, his tone light and conversational, as though they had just finished a friendly spar. “I must thank you for the opportunity.”
Luca stepped back, sheathing his estoc with a smooth motion. His demeanor was entirely relaxed, his smirk back in place, as if the predator Cedric had faced mere seconds ago had been an illusion.
Cedric stood frozen, his mind struggling to reconcile the man before him with the overwhelming presence he had felt during the duel. His hand instinctively rose to his neck, his fingers brushing the shallow cut there. The faint sting and the warm, sticky blood confirmed it—none of this was a dream.
He watched as Luca turned and began to walk away, his movements casual and unconcerned, as though nothing extraordinary had happened. For a brief moment, Cedric even questioned whether the terrifying intensity he had seen in Luca’s eyes was real or just a trick of his mind.
But the blood on his fingers told him otherwise.
As Luca disappeared from view, Cedric clenched his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white. His pride, his training, his resolve—all of it had been shattered in a matter of moments. Yet, more than his defeat, it was Luca’s parting words that lingered.
“Remember your place.”
The words echoed in Cedric’s mind, leaving behind a cold, hollow feeling that he couldn’t shake. Continue reading at empire
********
As Lucavion strolled away from the aftermath of the duel, his movements relaxed and his smirk intact, Vitaliara’s voice cut through his thoughts with her usual teasing lilt.
[Haven’t you gone a bit overboard?]
‘What does that mean?’ Lucavion replied inwardly, though the faint amusement in his tone made it clear he already knew what she was referring to.
[That was crushing,] Vitaliara remarked, her voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and reproach. [You didn’t just win. You dismantled him—completely.]
‘That’s how I am,’ Lucavion replied simply, his smirk deepening as he adjusted his coat. ‘You know that.’
[Oh, I can see that,] Vitaliara said, her tail flicking playfully in his peripheral vision. [But… was it really just about teaching him a lesson? Or was there a little jealousy in there?]
Lucavion stopped mid-step, arching an eyebrow as he glanced to the side, as though Vitaliara were physically perched beside him. ‘Jealous? Really?’
[Your reaction felt a bit excessive for someone who doesn’t care,] Vitaliara pressed, her tone dipping into mock accusation. [All those whispers, the theatrics, the lingering menace. Very dramatic for a simple reminder of “place.”]
Lucavion chuckled softly, shaking his head as he resumed walking. ‘Let’s just say, I despise entitled people.’
[Entitled?] Vitaliara’s curiosity was genuine now. [That’s all?]
‘Yep, that’s all,’ Lucavion replied, his gaze drifting toward the horizon as he mulled over his words.
[Hmm…..]
But then, just as the two were about to think more, Lucavion’s stride faltered slightly as a voice called out behind him.
“Mister Luca.”
The tone was polite yet firm, carrying the air of someone accustomed to decorum. He turned his head, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the source. A young woman approached, her posture upright and her expression calm but purposeful. Her attire was immaculate, a dark, neatly tailored uniform adorned with subtle embroidery—distinctive but understated enough to signify her as someone’s attendant.
‘An attendant?’ Lucavion thought, his smirk softening into a faint curve of curiosity. Interesting.
The woman came to a stop a respectful distance away, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her gaze met his briefly before she dipped her head in a formal nod. “Mister Luca,” she repeated, her voice steady. “May I have a moment of your time?”
‘Ah….’
Then he understood what was going on.
‘Heh….’