Morning, in the grand capital of Demacia.
The first rays of the sun pierced the horizon, golden light cascading down like thousands of blades, tearing apart the darkness and bringing forth the day.
As time passed, the city, silent through the night, slowly roused from slumber.
Shopkeepers opened their doors with weary yawns. The fragrance of fresh bread spread down the streets as vendors rushed to claim the best stalls, eager to welcome a new day.
At the harbor, new ships docked, their decks crowded with travelers coming and going. Fishermen who had braved the night's sea hung up their nets, calling for help as baskets of freshly caught fish and seafood were hauled ashore.
Guards had already taken their posts. Their sharp eyes swept over the crowds, leaving no room for mischief or ill intent.
Duke had risen early as well. In the courtyard, his body exuded the flow of primal force as he moved through the techniques of the Fist-Gun Style, a martial practice designed to temper the flesh. Each measured motion brought his spirit closer to calm, allowing him to grasp the mysteries of that force.
When he finished his morning routine, Lux stepped out of the house, offering him a towel.
"Big Brother Duke, you've got another match today. How are you planning to approach it?"
She hesitated, struggling to voice the rest. To treat warriors in the Grand Tournament as nothing more than test subjects for weapon sales… it was shameless, so much so that even she was embarrassed to say it aloud.
"We'll see how it goes."
Duke wiped the sweat from his brow and returned the towel to her.
"If the opponent puts up a proper challenge, I'll entertain him a little. If he doesn't… well, can you guess how many weapons I've brought just for testing?"
Lux twitched the corner of her mouth. She could only hope today's opponent had some sense—otherwise the poor soul would be reduced to a live target for Duke's inventions, scarred with memories that might never fade.
"Alright then, let's eat. After breakfast, we'll head to the arena."
"Mm."
They went inside. Breakfast was seafood porridge made from the leftovers of the previous night. Lux had prepared most of it, with Vayne assisting on the side. If the cooking had been left entirely to Vayne?
They would likely have been eating canned rations again.
Slaying creatures of the dark came naturally to Vayne, but put her in a kitchen and she'd sooner open holes in someone with a crossbow than manage a proper meal.
After breakfast, Duke set out ahead while Lux and Vayne prepared to meet him later at the arena. Dressed in his white coat, hands in his pockets, Duke walked the streets, returning the friendly smiles of passersby.
The insults and suspicion he once faced were gone.
His strength had spoken for itself. No matter how the Aiyn family tried, they could no longer smear his name. Especially now, with Duke's surveillance drones shadowing their estate day and night, gathering damning evidence. He intended to let the matter stew before crushing them completely.
Unnoticed, his steps brought him to the arena gates. With practiced ease, he presented his credentials and entered. Today's matches would cut the roster from sixty-four down to thirty-two.
The last round, from one hundred and twenty-eight to sixty-four, had taken two days. That downtime had allowed him and Lux a trip to the Illuminators' Association. But now the schedule was tighter, demanding his full attention.
He had signed up, after all. A strong showing here would pave the way for everything to come.
Just before entering the lounge, he glimpsed a familiar figure. But when he looked again, the person had already disappeared into their own resting chamber.
"Could it be him?" Duke touched his temple. "Maybe so. Lux did say he signed up for the tournament too. I wonder who his opponent is. If he gets paired against me… that will be interesting."
Shaking his head, Duke entered his own lounge, laying out his weapons and gear in preparation. If his opponent was sensible, he would let the match end cleanly. If not… well, Duke was more than capable of leaving scars that would last a lifetime.
He hadn't waited long before a knock came at the door.
"Please, come in," Duke called.
A staff member stepped in with a clipboard, speaking nervously. "M-Mr. Duke, your match is about to begin. Please be ready."
"Thank you."
"It's no trouble at all, sir. Please prepare at your leisure."
Once the staff left, Duke picked up his case of weaponry and slipped the trigger-ring onto his finger before walking out into the corridor.
"So, who's my opponent today?"
His steps were unhurried, echoing down the passageway as the roar of the crowd grew louder and louder.
The arena was already boiling over with excitement.
On the announcer's platform, the host raised the amplifier Duke had sold him, his voice echoing clear across the stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the first match of the day is about to begin! Allow me to introduce our contenders!
"First, from Piltover—the one you all know well from the last round, the craftsman who has already proven his strength—Duke Sanchez!"
The thunder of cheers rolled through the stands.
"Duke!"
"Duke!!"
"Duke!!!"
Through that wall of sound, Duke carried his case down the dark tunnel, emerging into the arena. The applause exploded skyward at his appearance.
The referee stepped forward to inspect his gear, his face tightening when he saw the contents of the case. "Are these…?"
"Depends on how the opponent performs. If he does well, I won't need them. If not…"
Duke smiled faintly.
The referee wiped at the sweat on his brow. He knew better than to push this man. Quickly raising his flag, he signaled the staff to brace themselves in case the match turned ugly.
Meanwhile, the announcer tapped the microphone, drawing the arena to silence.
"Now then, let's welcome the second competitor of the day!
"A scion of a legendary bloodline, a warrior newly joined to the Dauntless Vanguard—Garen Crownguard!"
The host's voice carried a feverish pitch as the audience erupted again.
"The Crownguard!"
"The Crownguard!!"
"The Crownguard!!!"
All eyes turned to the silver-armored figure striding into the arena, a massive greatsword resting easily in his hands.
Broad shoulders, powerful arms, steady steps, and a gaze of unwavering resolve—Garen embodied the very image of a true warrior.
"I didn't expect my opponent to be you," he said, his voice firm. "When I glimpsed you earlier, I thought fate might keep us apart. Yet here you are, already in the second round."
Duke scratched his head, a touch helpless, while Garen bowed his head slightly.
"Please, grant me your guidance."
"You could get hurt, you know," Duke replied.
He slipped the trigger-ring firmly into place, then waved the referee over to take his weapons case away. Facing Garen, there was no need to toy with an opponent's spirit—better to leave the young Lion of Demacia with a lesson he would never forget.
"That case," Garen asked, watching the referee struggle under its weight, "what was in it?"
"Just a few toys for today's match. But since it's you, I won't be needing them."
Duke rolled his shoulders, his joints popping like firecrackers. Interlacing his fingers, he looked at Garen and grinned.
"Come at me with everything you've got, Garen. Otherwise, you'll truly get hurt."
"I am ready!"
Garen hefted his greatsword in one hand, his eyes blazing with courage. He had heard stories of the destruction Duke had wrought in combat, yet not an ounce of fear shadowed his face.
He had always known Duke was strong—but today, he would finally learn the truth for himself.
The announcer, sensing the electricity between them, raised his voice. "Our competitors are ready! What a fiery way to begin the day's matches! Without further delay—let the battle begin!"
"For Demacia!"
Garen's roar shook the air as he advanced in steady, powerful strides, blade raised high.
"Good!"
Duke clenched his fist, meeting the swing head-on.
And at the edge of the arena, a half-seen figure stood watching, a ghostly smile curling at her lips.
"The Crownguard family…" she murmured. "An old acquaintance indeed. But all of it will end soon enough."
Her form faded into nothing atop the grandstand, as if she had never been there.
"Very soon."
End of chapter....
IRONBOUND PATRON
🔹 Hexcore Initiate – 15 chapters ahead
🔸 Arc Reactor Elite – 35 chapters + 3 BONUS CHAPTERS + HIDDEN SURPRISES
👉 patreon.com/MrBehringer