Dominen chose to ignore reality.
To admit the truth of his situation now would be to accept his own ruin. Therefore, the noble young man standing before him simply had to be weaker than he was.
No, it was only right that he was weaker.
Having convinced himself of this convenient fiction, Dominen gripped his wooden sword again, his eyes shot with blood. With a guttural roar, he charged at Ethan, his body flushing a deep crimson.
Overhit. He’s pushing himself past his limits.
His target merely chuckled.
Overhit was a desperate technique, a way to violently strain the body to draw out more power than it naturally possessed, if only for an instant. It might add force to a single blow, but the chasm in skill between Ethan and Dominen was not something that could be bridged so easily.
You dug this grave yourself.
Ethan’s eyes glinted with a cold light. In the next moment, his sword sliced through the air like a whip.
As the spar wore on, Dominen’s gaze grew unfocused and dim. The number of his injuries mounted. None of the wounds were fatal, but each strike carried enough concussive force to have knocked him unconscious several times over. The only reason he remained on his feet was that Ethan was meticulously controlling his strength.
And the person most acutely aware of this fact was Dominen himself.
No matter how he tried to deceive himself, to flee from the truth, he could no longer escape it. The noble’s son he had dismissed as a fool was immeasurably stronger than him. It wasn’t just physical power; his swordsmanship existed on a plane entirely beyond his own.
It wasn’t carelessness, he realized. I was simply outmatched.
In that instant, Dominen’s fighting spirit shattered. Had he been the sort of man to stand unbent before a stronger foe, his skill would not have stagnated for ten long years.
Before the words of surrender could form on his lips, the wooden sword smashed into his mouth.
From that point on, Ethan’s attacks lost their earlier restraint. He struck mercilessly, no longer avoiding vital points.
This can’t end quickly.
He had spent a decade as a mercenary in his past life. That time had taught him the absolute necessity of reinforcing hierarchy, especially among rough men who lived by the sword. An example had to be made, and it had to be clear. A knighthood, when stripped to its essentials, was little more than a gathering of ‘rough men with weapons.’
I gave him more than enough chances.
Recalling the lessons of his past, Ethan swung his wooden sword with even greater speed.
The men watching the duel murmured with sympathy, but not one of them made a move to intervene. They all knew why Ethan had issued the challenge. None of them were willing to cross the grand duke’s heir to save a knight who was on the verge of retirement anyway. And besides, it was now painfully obvious that the young lord’s abilities had far surpassed those of an ordinary knight.
“Ugh…”
“That skill is the real thing.”
“How could he have improved so much in only three months?”
“He might have awakened his Force, but even so…”
“Can a man’s swordsmanship itself change so completely?”
Ethan heard their whispers. The moment he judged his performance had achieved its desired effect, he ceased his relentless assault.
There was a final, choked gasp, and the lump of flesh that was once a knight collapsed to the ground, so battered he would have been unrecognizable even to his own family.
But no one was looking at him.
‘Ethan, the Grand Duke’s son, defeated the knight!’
The news spread through the inner walls of the city like a wildfire. It was an unbelievable story, but with so many witnesses, it became the only topic of conversation.
Meanwhile, the catalyst of this chaos was finally granted the private meeting he had been trying to secure.
“You’ve done well,” his father said. “It seems you’ve awakened. Did something happen during your training?”
He was watching, just as I thought.
It wasn’t the question Ethan had expected, but he answered promptly.
“…I simply let go of my greed. I decided to relinquish everything. With that state of mind, I was practicing when, all at once, I felt the Force fill me. It was almost like a lie.”
To the average person, it would have sounded like nonsense. In truth, it was an insight Ethan had gained only after becoming a Force user in his previous life, a time when he had sworn to sacrifice everything to avenge his family. It was a truth he’d only grasped in his forties after decades of suffering and brutal training. Any typical knight who had to claw his way past his own limits to awaken his Force would find the story absurd.
Sir Patrick Ashford, however, a senior knight of immense experience, slowly nodded his head as if he understood.
“A realization of emptiness… It seems you truly have changed.”
Just as Ethan began to feel that things were going his way, his father’s tone sharpened.
“And after achieving such an epiphany, the first thing you do is assault a knight?”
“He committed a crime deserving of it. You’ve heard the full story from the soldiers, have you not?”
“I have. But was it necessary to go to such lengths, right then and there?”
“He attempted to deceive and mock the bloodline of his lord. If I had let him be, he would have become a poison, undermining the discipline of this house.”
Ethan spoke without a trace of hesitation. Patrick scrutinized his son’s impassive face, and under that intense gaze, Ethan’s mouth went dry.
“Dominen was indeed greatly at fault,” Patrick finally conceded. “He forgot his duty and tried to deceive you.”
Ethan felt a knot of tension in his chest begin to loosen.
“For that reason, I will not punish you. However…”
He’s not going to let this go so easily.
Ethan tensed again, his focus sharpening.
“You were too harsh. Restrain yourself for a while.”
Taken aback by the mild command, Ethan could only stare blankly.
“What? Would you prefer to be punished?”
“A warning to restrain yourself is not praise. Do not mistake my meaning, and do not engage in such matters again without my permission. You have not yet been granted an official position.” Patrick paused. “And… there is something else you should know.”
“Lady Rosalind of the Vance family will be visiting soon.”
The moment he had been waiting for had arrived.
“Yes. You and Rosalind will both be of age next year, so it is about time. She is coming here personally, without using a communication artifact, and carries a handwritten letter from Gideon Vance. It must be about that matter.”
So that was the reason for his leniency.
But… it’s going to be the exact opposite of what Father thinks.
It was the event that would once again drag the family’s honor through the mud. In his past life, he remembered his father’s incandescent fury. He himself, reeling from the blow to his pride, had reacted with senseless violence.
This time, Ethan sealed his lips and said nothing.
Three days after the incident with Dominen, the inner city was buzzing with another rumor concerning the grand duke’s heir.
Lady Rosalind Vance had arrived to visit the Mclains.
Simon, his face alight with joy, rushed to Ethan with the news.
“Wow! You are so lucky!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just heard from the other servants! They say she’s grown up to be unbelievably beautiful!”
“The daughter of the Vance family! Your fiancée! The last time I saw her, she was just a child, but now… oh.”
“She’s already in the citadel? I should get ready, then.”
“…That’s it? That’s your reaction?”
“What more should it be?”
“Wow! My fiancée, renowned for her beauty across the kingdom, is coming to see me! Envy me, lads! Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say?”
“…What exactly do you think I am?”
“Well, a brat… ha ha. No, just kidding. My apologies, I mean… Sorry.”
Ethan sighed quietly, memories of the past rising unbidden. That event, the unexpected declaration of their annulment, had been the trigger for the unspeakable acts that followed the collapse of his sanity.
Well, as long as I don’t repeat that, it won’t matter.
The estate was going to be in an uproar regardless. The servants didn’t care about the reason for the visit; they were simply hoping a marriage or formal engagement would lead to a celebration. Indeed, on the lord’s orders, they were already preparing for a banquet.
Soon enough, all those plans would be scrapped, and chaos would reign.
Amidst the cheerful commotion, the one person who knew the future wore a bitter smile.
It’s all meaningless. I just need the money.
He had to turn the catalyst for his gravest sin into a new opportunity. If he let events unfold as they had before, the money would simply disappear. He had to seize it, no matter what.
As he reviewed his plans, refreshing his memory of what was to come, a voice called from his door.
“My lord, your father summons you.”
Unlike the jubilant Simon, Ethan’s footsteps were heavy with a combative air as he left the room.
“Lady Rosalind Vance has arrived!”
With the servant’s resounding announcement, the doors to the grand hall swung open, and a party entered.
“The young lord is so fortunate…”
As Lady Rosalind and her retinue came into view, whispers of awe echoed through the hall. Aware of the countless eyes now fixed on him, Ethan couldn’t help but smile bitterly.
She had skin like porcelain and eyes of jet-black obsidian. Her silver hair cascaded nearly to her waist, a shimmering counterpoint to the pure white dress she wore as she moved with impossible grace. Accompanying her was a knight in armor emblazoned with a wolf emblem and four servants. For a house as powerful as the Vance earldom, it was an unusually small procession, but no one felt it lacked for grandeur.
Such was the overpowering presence of Rosalind Vance, who walked at its head.
As someone in the silent hall swallowed audibly, Rosalind approached Patrick and offered her greetings.
“It has been some time, Lord Baron. I trust you have been well.”
Her melodic voice spread through the hall, causing another stir of admiration.
Impressive, as always…
Only Ethan, who had once made a terrible mistake while swayed by that very beauty, felt his brow furrow slightly.
After the formal yet amicable greetings were concluded, one of her servants produced a letter, which Rosalind took and began to read aloud.
“…because of unavoidable circumstances, we respectfully request to annul the engagement. Signed, Gideon Vance. That is all.”
As she finished reading, the air in the hall plunged into an icy silence. The lengthy and florid letter had taken nearly half an hour to read, but its meaning could be summarized far more simply:
We believed you would be an Aura user by now, but you have shown no progress in twenty years, and your son, our proposed match, is a disgrace. There is no longer any reason for us to lower ourselves by associating with your family. Let us end this here.
Patrick’s earlier smile had frozen on his face. Everyone held their breath, waiting for him to speak.
“To announce an annulment without proper cause… does the Vance family intend to insult the Mclains?”
Patrick’s voice, frigid with rage, filled the grand hall. The atmosphere grew taut, as if a single wrong word could make it shatter.
“…Surely there is no such intention, Lord Baron,” Rosalind said, her own voice wavering. “I asked to be the envoy myself because I was concerned you might think so. I wanted to clarify any misunderstandings.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“I spent nearly a year here in my childhood, and those days are still vivid in my memory.”
She turned her gaze toward Ethan, and tears began to stream down her porcelain cheeks.
“The precious moments I shared in this peaceful, beautiful place with Lord Ethan… even as a child, I did not want to let them go.”