"This is our family's secret sword manual—the Dance of the Duel. I offer it as compensation for breaking my word to you."
Sebastian solemnly handed Duke what could only be called the true heirloom of House Laurent. This was their foundation, the root upon which everything had been built.
And now, he was actually surrendering it. Clearly, to make amends for his failure toward Duke, Sebastian was ready to bleed heavily.
"Dance of the Duel?"
Duke's half-closed eyes narrowed further as he glanced at the booklet.
The cover was plain, marked only with a simple design of two crossed swords. No title, no ornate embellishments. But the material of the pages was anything but ordinary.
He accepted the book, running his fingers along its surface. Its texture was like veined leaves, yet neither metal nor wood, and certainly not common paper.
"This was made by our ancestors, with the help of the Stonehorn clan. They crafted it from the leaves of the Magebane Forest. It resists fire, resists blades, and even withstands the erosion of time itself."
Sebastian's voice carried a trace of pain, but pride and pragmatism left him no choice. Between preserving his pride and his family's face, he chose the latter.
And besides, Duke's talents had made him more determined than ever to cling tightly to this man.
If not for his daughter's stubbornness, Sebastian would have long since shoved Fiora toward Duke in marriage, tying their families even closer.
But since he couldn't control her, and couldn't let House Laurent lose face, all he could do now was part with their most prized treasure.
In truth, aside from its symbolic meaning, the sword manual was nothing more than the earliest insights of their ancestor Laurent, written down centuries ago. Countless handwritten copies and annotations already circulated among the family's descendants.
"A sword codex made from Magebane leaves?"
Duke flipped through it. Only a few dozen pages, yet it contained the entire essence of Laurent swordsmanship.
And one detail stood out—Fiora's passive ability was literally called Dance of the Duel.
It was the heart of her art.
Finding the opening, striking the weak point, landing one fatal blow, then unleashing devastating follow-up damage.
The manual didn't just detail Vital Strike. It also recorded the training methods for Lunge, Riposte, Blade Waltz, and even Grand Challenge.
In other words, Duke was holding Fiora's entire skillset in his hands.
"This isn't enough."
After skimming the codex, Duke shut it firmly. This was undeniably useful to him. It could refine his combat system and further his integration of fist-cannon techniques.
But there was no way this was all the Laurent family had hidden away.
He didn't believe for a moment that centuries of accumulation amounted to only this slim booklet.
"What do you mean by that?" Sebastian asked cautiously.
"I want every commentary and insight your family has ever written on the Dance of the Duel," Duke said bluntly. "From the founding of your house until now. Copies only, of course. I won't take the original."
Relief washed over Sebastian. The codex itself, symbolic though it was, could remain in the family. As for the handwritten notes and sword insights of generations past?
He could give those away.
After all, what was it to him? Selling his grandfather's field hurt only the descendants, not the seller.
"Very well. I'll have them delivered to your estate tomorrow."
"Good."
Duke tucked the codex under his arm. "I'll return this copy to you tomorrow as well."
"Please, study it as much as you like. It's no problem."
"Heh, don't play games with me. If I say I'll return it, I will."
Checking his timepiece, Duke realized it was growing late. "Enough. Come to my estate tomorrow morning to retrieve the codex. Don't forget the notes and annotations."
"Understood."
With the deal struck, Duke offered Lady Laurent a courteous smile before departing the arena.
Sebastian finally exhaled in relief. To secure Duke's favor, any sacrifice was worthwhile.
With this connection, House Laurent would flourish for decades more.
And never underestimate decades of stability. Starting a dynasty was hard. Preserving it was harder.
Sometimes, simply maintaining what you had was more difficult than conquering anew.
"Father, what did you and that man talk about?" Fiora's voice was softer than usual.
Sebastian's face hardened. "Best if you don't ask."
"Don't think I don't know you went to cause trouble for Master Duke. I've spoiled you too much. From now on, I'll be stricter. You want to walk your own path? Then prepare yourself."
Fiora bit her lip, ready to argue. But Duke's words echoed in her mind, silencing her. She closed her eyes, then nodded firmly.
"Yes, I understand."
But in truth, she could not forgive the humiliation Duke had forced upon her. She would find him, demand answers, and reclaim her pride.
The moment her father's back turned, she slipped away.
"Let's go home," Sebastian said as he strode on. "Didn't you enter the Grand Tournament of Valor? Then bring back a strong result. Prove your ability. Only then will you earn the right to shape your own destiny. Do you hear me?"
He turned, only to find silence.
"I asked you a question!"
But only his wife stood there. With a weary sigh, she said, "She left."
"When?!" Sebastian's composure cracked.
"Just as you turned around."
"What?!"
She rolled her eyes. "Honestly… you."
The capital, along a quiet street.
As he walked, Duke replayed the techniques from the codex in his mind, weaving them into his fist-cannon style.
Fist-cannon arts were forged for war—explosive, brutal, each move stronger than the last, like trading flesh for devastation.
Duke often wondered if their creator had simply thought, If I don't die in one punch, then you will.
But the Dance of the Duel could temper that raw aggression, balancing brute force with precision. After all, excessive hardness always broke in the end.
His steps slowed. He sighed.
"Do you ever learn?"
He turned to find Fiora in her black cloak, her exoskeleton glowing faintly beneath.
Steel rang as she drew her rapier.
"You humiliated me, and I'll never forgive it!"
"You're so stubborn. Careful, you'll never get married," Duke quipped.
"Silence!"
The tiles shattered under her feet as she lunged. Cloak billowing, her rune-steel rapier shot for Duke's heart, impossibly fast with the exoskeleton's aid.
A normal man would never have even seen her move before death claimed him.
But Duke sidestepped, half a step only, letting the blade skim past. His fist blurred, slamming into her midsection with bullet-like speed.
"Guh!"
The blow folded her over, eyes wide in shock.
"You're still too green to fight me."
She staggered, forcing herself upright on her rapier.
"I'll defeat you," she spat through clenched teeth.
Duke leaned close, brushing aside her bangs to stare into her eyes. "Keep disobeying, and I'll punish you again."
Fiora's heartbeat spiked. Flustered, she swung wildly, but Duke caught her wrist with ease.
"Disobedient girl," he muttered, hauling her across his knee with a smirk.
Crack, crack, crack—
The sound of tapping eggshells froze them both.
A cloaked figure sat nearby, hefting a lamppost over one shoulder, watching.
Noticing their stares, he coughed lightly. "Pretend I'm not here. Carry on, carry on."
"Jax," Duke sighed. Of course it was him.
"How long have you been watching?"
He never imagined that the legendary weapons master would reveal such a… colorful side.
"Not long. I was just eating a boiled egg," Jax said. "Then I saw a young lady's heart racing while a strong lad teased her. That's all."
"Tch." Duke clicked his tongue, folding his arms. "And my offer? Have you thought it over?"
"I have," Jax said seriously, "but I still need to test it with my own eyes."
"Why do all you long-lived types insist on the same games?" Duke muttered.
Jax ignored him, turning instead to Fiora. "Girl, do you want to become stronger?"
End of chapter....
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