The granite spike stood as a silent, irrefutable testament to my final word.
Power.
The silence that followed was a physical entity, a vacuum that sucked all the air and sound from the cavernous banquet hall. The polite chatter, the clinking of glasses, the soft music of the court harpists—all of it was gone, replaced by a profound, collective state of shock. Hundreds of the most powerful people in the kingdom were staring, their faces a gallery of disbelief, at the spear of raw earth I had summoned from the pristine, thousand-year-old marble floor of the Royal Palace.
The drunken noble who had been the target of my... rebuttal... was still frozen, his eyes wide with terror, staring at the sharp point that had stopped a mere inch from his throat. A dark, spreading stain on the front of his silk trousers was the only thing in the room that was moving.
I let my gaze sweep across the hall, meeting the eyes of every major player. I saw the calculating curiosity of the Traditionalists, the shock and dawning interest of the Royalists, and the pure, unadulterated fury on the faces of the Duke's faction. My declaration had not been a whisper; it had been a thunderclap, a seismic event that had irrevocably altered the political landscape.
Then, I looked to the dais. The old King was leaning forward in his throne, his weary eyes suddenly sharp and focused for the first time all evening. Princess Seraphina had a hand over her mouth, her compassionate eyes filled with a mixture of fear and wonder.
But my true audience was the two men standing beside the throne.
Prince Alaric, the Golden Lion, had lost his charming smile. His handsome face was a mask of cold, analytical assessment. He was looking at me not as a rival for a woman's affection, but as a new, unknown piece on the grand chessboard of international politics. A piece with a very dangerous, very unpredictable move.
And Duke Crimson. Oh, the Duke. If looks could kill, I would have been incinerated, flash-frozen, and then scattered to the winds. The jovial mask was gone, burned away by a rage so pure and hot it seemed to warp the very air around him. He had set a perfect trap, using a drunken fool as his proxy to humiliate me, and I had turned it into a stage for the single most audacious display of power this court had seen in a generation. I hadn't just sidestepped his trap; I had used it to announce my arrival as a major power.
The silence was finally broken by the clatter of steel. A squad of the Royal Guard, clad in their gleaming silver and gold armor, rushed forward, forming a protective circle around the dais, their spears leveled in my direction. Their captain, a grim-faced veteran, strode forward.
"Lord Silverstein!" he barked, his voice ringing with authority. "You have committed an act of aggression within the sacred halls of the Royal Palace! You have damaged royal property! By the King's law, you are under arrest!"
This was the expected response. The legal and justifiable consequence of my actions. The Duke's rage-filled face relaxed into a cold, triumphant smile. He had me. I had taken the bait, and now he could use the law itself as his weapon.
Before I could speak, before Elizabeth could unleash the icy fury I could feel building beside me, a calm, clear voice cut through the tension.
"Captain, stand down."
All eyes turned to the throne. It was the King who had spoken. His voice was frail, but it held the unmistakable weight of command.
The captain immediately dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty?"
"The boy was provoked," the King said, his gaze fixed on me. There was a surprising sharpness in his eyes, a flicker of the great ruler he once must have been. "Lord Fenton's words were a disgrace to this court and an insult to a noble guest. While Lord Silverstein's response was... unorthodox... it was a matter of honor."
The Duke's face tightened. The King was providing me with a shield.
"However," the King continued, his gaze hardening, "the law cannot be ignored. Honor may be debated, but the floor of my palace is not. A line has been crossed. This matter must be settled."
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Duke Crimson interjected, his voice smooth as poisoned honey as he descended from the dais. He saw a new opportunity, a way to reclaim control. "It is a matter of honor. And such matters, by ancient tradition, are settled not by courts, but by combat. A formal duel, to satisfy both the wounded pride of Lord Fenton and the sanctity of your palace floor."
The trap had changed shape, but it was still a trap.
"A duel?" I asked, my voice laced with a feigned innocence. "But as Sir Marcus so helpfully pointed out, I have no skill with a blade."
"Ah, but your... 'power'... seems more than adequate," the Duke countered, his eyes gleaming. "Let us not stand on ceremony. A duel of first blood. Your strange earth magic against a proper champion of the realm. A test to see if this newfound power of yours is truly worthy of respect, or merely a flashy trick. I am sure Sir Marcus would be honored to act as the court's champion."
He was trying to force me into a battle with his brutish attack dog. But Prince Alaric, ever the opportunist, saw his own opening.
"An excellent suggestion, Your Grace," the Prince said, striding forward, his voice a captivating baritone. "A duel is indeed the proper course. However, the offense was not merely against a single lord, but against the dignity of the entire court. Surely, a matter of such gravity requires a champion of greater standing than a simple household knight."
He turned his emerald gaze on me, a predatory glint in his eyes. "I, Prince Alaric of Eldoria, as a guest of this court and a defender of its honor, would be willing to serve as champion myself."
A collective gasp went through the hall. A foreign prince, a Level 48 Sword Saint, challenging me to a duel. This was an escalation beyond anything the Duke had planned. Alaric wasn't just trying to put me in my place; he was making a power play of his own, showing his strength and inserting himself directly into the kingdom's politics.
The Duke looked furious. The Prince had just hijacked his trap.
The King, however, saw a path through the chaos. "We thank you for your generous offer, Prince Alaric," he said, his voice firm. "But this is a matter of Althean law and Althean honor. It must be settled by an Althean champion. Duke Crimson, your champion, Sir Marcus, is a fine knight, but he is of your own house. To avoid any appearance of bias, a more neutral champion is required."
The King's gaze swept the room and landed on a figure standing near the back. A man built like a bull, with a square jaw and a grim expression. "Sir Kaelan of the Royal Guard. You are the victor of the last Grand Tournament and the sworn protector of this palace. You will serve as the court's champion."
Sir Kaelan stepped forward and knelt. "As you command, Your Majesty."
The Duke and the Prince both looked displeased, but they could not argue with the King's choice. He had selected a champion who was powerful, respected, and, most importantly, loyal only to the crown. He had neutralized their attempts to control the duel. The old King still had some moves left.
"It is settled, then," the King declared. "A formal duel of honor. Lord Kazuki von Silverstein versus Sir Kaelan of the Royal Guard. The duel will take place in the palace arena in three days' time. The victor will have satisfied the demands of both honor and the law."
His gaze settled on me, and his final words were a clear warning. "Do not disappoint me, boy."
The matter was closed. The judgment had been rendered. In three days, I would face the kingdom's finest warrior in a public duel. My first act as a new power player had immediately resulted in a trial by combat.
The rest of the banquet passed in a blur. The mood was electric, filled with hushed conversations and constant, speculative glances in my direction. I was the topic of every conversation, the center of every intrigue. We were seated at a table with the Traditionalist faction leaders, Baron Valerius and Countess von Eisen. They spoke to me with a new, cautious respect, asking probing questions about my family history and the nature of my "awakening." They were assessing me, weighing my potential as a counter-balance to the Duke. I played my part perfectly, answering with a mixture of humble respect for their ancient lines and vague, mysterious hints about my own power.
Elizabeth was brilliant. She navigated the treacherous social waters with the skill of a master navigator, deflecting insults, forging tentative connections, and gathering information. She was in her element, and I could see the thrill of the game in her eyes.
We left the banquet as soon as it was polite to do so, stepping back into the Duke's velvet prison of a carriage. The moment the doors closed, the facades dropped.
"Three days," Elizabeth breathed, slumping back against the cushions, the tension of the evening finally showing on her face. "He gave you three days. It's not enough."
"It'll have to be," I said.
"Sir Kaelan is not like the assassins, Kazuki," she said, her voice grim. "He is a Level 42 Knight-Captain. He is a master of the longsword and the shield. He is fast, strong, and a brilliant tactician. He is a veteran of the Orcish Wars. He has killed hundreds of men in real combat. You are a boy who has been in one real fight."
[Sir Kaelan 'The Unbreakable' of the Royal Guard,] ARIA's text scrolled in my vision. [Level: 42. Primary Skills: 'Aegis Shield Wall,' 'Lion's Roar (Taunt),' 'Blade Cyclone.' His defensive capabilities are in the 99th percentile for his level. He is known for his endurance and his ability to outlast any opponent. A direct assault is statistically impossible for you.]
The odds were, once again, impossible.
"Then we won't fight him directly," I said, my mind already working. "We won't outlast him. We'll out-think him."
We returned to Crimson Keep, the silence of our luxurious prison a stark contrast to the buzzing energy of the palace. There was no time to rest. Our training began immediately.
The grand, empty ballroom of the suite became our private training ground.
"First," Elizabeth declared, handing me a weighted wooden practice sword, "you will learn how to stand. You move like a programmer, Kazuki. All your balance is in your head. A warrior's balance comes from the earth."
The next hours were a blur of agonizing, muscle-burning torture. She was a brutal, unforgiving instructor. She forced me into stances, corrected my posture, and drilled me on basic footwork until my legs felt like jelly.
"Lower! Your center of gravity is too high! You are a target!" she would snap, striking the back of my knees with her practice sword to force me into a lower crouch.
"Your guard is sloppy! A child could get past that!" she'd criticize, her blade slipping past my clumsy parry to rap sharply against my ribs.
My boosted stats helped. My STR of 10 allowed me to hold the stances. My DEX of 12 allowed me to learn the footwork with surprising speed. But I had a lifetime of bad habits to unlearn.
While Elizabeth reshaped my body, ARIA reshaped my mind.
[Sir Kaelan's fighting style, based on tournament records, is defensive,] she explained, showing me holographic replays of his past fights in my mind's eye. [He uses a large tower shield to absorb attacks while waiting for his opponent to over-extend. His 'Aegis Shield Wall' is a magical skill that makes his shield nearly indestructible for a short period. Your 'Terraforming' spikes will not break it.]
"So a direct attack is useless," I murmured, panting as I held a difficult stance.
"What did you say?" Elizabeth asked, circling me like a hawk.
"His defense is too strong," I said. "I can't break through his shield."
"Of course you can't," she scoffed. "No one can. That's why he's the champion. Your only hope is to be faster than him, to get around the shield."
[Elizabeth's assessment is correct, but incomplete,] ARIA countered. [You cannot go through his shield. But you can go under it.]
A new simulation played in my head. A replay of Kaelan's final tournament match. I saw him plant his shield, bracing for a charge.
[Freeze frame,] ARIA commanded. [Analyze his stance. When he activates 'Aegis Shield Wall,' he must root himself to the ground to absorb the impact. For a period of 3.5 seconds, he is completely immobile. His feet are locked in place.]
A loophole. A tiny, 3.5-second window of opportunity.
"The floor," I breathed. "I can use the floor."
Elizabeth looked at me, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"His stance," I explained. "When he uses his shield skill, he can't move. I can use 'Terraforming' to attack him from below. Trip him. Create a fissure. Trap his feet."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Elizabeth's face. "You devious, brilliant monster," she whispered. "Yes... yes, that could work. But you'll only get one chance. Once you reveal that trick, he will adapt."
Our training shifted. It became a frantic, coordinated effort. Elizabeth would act as Sir Kaelan, adopting his defensive stance. My job was to get close, bait out his shield skill, and then, in the 3.5-second window, execute a 'Terraforming' command with enough speed and precision to be effective.
Luna played her part, too. She stood at the far end of the ballroom, firing blunted practice arrows at me.
"Your 'Kinetic Redirect' is your trump card," Elizabeth explained. "But it's useless if you can't react in time. You need to train your reflexes until they are instantaneous."
The arrows would fly, and I would have to react, raising my hand to activate the skill. At first, I was too slow, the arrows thudding harmlessly against my leather jerkin. But slowly, I got better. My DEX of 12 and my glitched senses started to sync up. I began to anticipate the shots, my hand moving almost before the arrow was loosed.
The days blurred into a single, continuous cycle of training, studying, and planning. We ate in the ballroom, slept for a few precious hours, and then began again. We were a team, a single unit with a single goal: survival.
On the eve of the duel, we stood in the center of the ballroom, exhausted but ready. I could now move with a semblance of a warrior's grace. My parries were still clumsy, but they were fast. My reflexes were sharp enough to catch Luna's arrows nine times out of ten. And I could summon a granite spike from the floor in under two seconds.
"It's not enough," Elizabeth said, her voice grim as she watched me practice. "But it will have to do."
She walked over to me. "Tomorrow, when you face him, do not think. Do not hesitate. Trust your instincts. Trust ARIA's analysis. And trust your power. You are not a swordsman, Kazuki. Do not try to fight him on his terms. Make him fight on yours. The arena floor is your true weapon. Use it."
She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Don't die," she said softly. "It would be... inconvenient."
I smiled. "I'll try my best."
That night, I stood on the balcony of our suite, looking out at the glittering lights of the capital. The city was buzzing with anticipation for the duel. I was the biggest news in a decade.
Luna approached me quietly, holding something in her hand. It was a small, simple charm woven from strands of her own mousy brown hair and a single, shimmering silver thread.
"For good luck, my lord," she said, pressing it into my hand. "The silver thread is from an old elven lullaby... it is said to protect warriors from harm."
I closed my hand around the small, warm charm. "Thank you, Luna. I'll keep it safe."
Her faith in me was a heavy, precious weight. I couldn't let her down.
The day of the duel dawned bright and clear. The palace arena was a massive, open-air coliseum, and it was packed to the rafters. Every noble, every merchant, every commoner who could beg or bribe their way in was here. I could see the colorful banners of a hundred different houses flapping in the breeze.
I stood in the waiting area beneath the stands, the roar of the crowd a distant, thunderous hum. I was dressed in simple, functional leather armor. The rusty short sword was at my hip.
Elizabeth stood with me, her face pale but composed. "Remember the plan," she said. "Bait the shield wall. Attack his footing. Use the redirect as a last resort. He will not be expecting it."
The gate in front of me began to rise, flooding the tunnel with bright sunlight.
"It's time," I said.
I walked out into the arena, and a wall of sound hit me. The crowd roared, a mixture of cheers and jeers. I walked to the center of the sandy arena floor, my eyes adjusting to the bright light.
Across from me, standing tall and proud, was Sir Kaelan. He was a mountain of a man in polished steel plate armor, his massive tower shield gleaming in the sun. He looked calm, confident, and utterly unbreakable.
He gave me a short, professional nod of respect. I returned it.
We stood there, two warriors from different worlds, waiting for the signal.
The King rose from his seat in the royal box. A hush fell over the crowd.
"Let the duel of honor commence!" his frail voice boomed, magically amplified throughout the arena.
Sir Kaelan immediately adopted his defensive stance, planting his feet and raising his shield. He was not going to attack. He was going to let me break myself against his impenetrable defense.
This was it. Everything came down to this moment.
I drew my sword.
I took a deep breath.
And I charged.
But as I took my first step, a strange, golden light flared from Sir Kaelan's shield. It wasn't the white light of his 'Aegis' skill. It was something else. Something new.
He smirked, a confident, almost pitying expression on his face.
"Did you really think the Duke would allow a fair fight, boy?" he said, his voice calm and steady.
The golden light on his shield intensified, and a notification, stark and terrifying, flashed in my vision.
[WARNING! Unique Enchantment Detected on Enemy Equipment!][Enchantment: 'Field of Inertia.'][Description: Creates a localized field that nullifies all non-physical kinetic force and dampens all elemental magic within a 10-meter radius.]
My blood turned to ice.
My 'Kinetic Redirect' was useless. My 'Terraforming' spikes were useless. My entire strategy, my entire advantage, had just been nullified before the fight had even begun.
He had a hidden trump card. An anti-magic field.
I was a Level 1 boy with a rusty sword, facing the kingdom's greatest champion.
And my power was gone.