"Say that again. One. More. Time..."
The silence in the ballroom was heavy, broken only by the ragged breathing of the Marius heir.
Emboldened by the shock of the crowd, Cassius doubled down, his face twisted in a sneer of desperate arrogance.
"Did you not hear me, Mongrel?" Cassius shouted, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
"I asked if your mother remembers which commoner bed she crawled out of to birth you. Or does she keep a note for that too?"
Regius turned. The temperature in the room plummeted. His violet eyes had an intense gaze, boring a hole through Cassius.
He took a deep breath and exhaled.
"You really had to do it, didn't you…" Regius whispered.
His head turned to the side, staring at the red holographic window hovering near him. He raised his hand and clicked the "Accept" button.
[DUEL ACCEPTED]
The text flashed for a moment and disappeared.
On the mezzanine balcony, the High Nobility leaned over the railings. The air of bored amusement had vanished, replaced by sharp interest.
Duchess Valora Keros turned to Lord Marius, her face a mask of iron.
"Your son just insulted a High Lady of the Concordat in MY house, Marius," she said. "You think I will let that slide?"
Lord Marius gripped the railing, his knuckles white. He looked pale. He knew the political and economical cost of that insult.
"H-he is young, Duchess," Marius stammered. "He is spirited."
"You think I care? Regardless of what happens in that duel, you and I will have a private discussion before you leave."
Below them, the ballroom floor transformed.
Runes flared to life along the perimeter of the dance floor. A translucent, shimmering energy dome rose around the center of the room, sealing the combatants inside and protecting the guests from stray spells.
An official observer, a veteran duelist from House Keros, stepped into the dome. He looked at the two young men.
"Terms are First Blood or Yield," the Observer said. "Are both parties ready?"
They nodded.
"Begin!"
Cassius wasted no time.
"Cut him down!"
He drew his rapier—a gaudy weapon of gold filigree and enchanted steel. At the same time, the Mark on his upper chest lit up, searing through his clothes.
A burst of crimson light erupted beside him. His crimson summon materialized with a mechanical roar.
It was a High-Tier Construct, a four-armed gladiator automaton built for aggression. It stood seven feet tall, wielding four serrated scimitars. Its core hummed with the steady, rhythmic pulse of an engine.
Cassius and his summon were both Early Rank 2, the same rank as Regius. On paper, this was an even match. Regius would have to manifest his summon and struggle.
But he didn't even draw his sword. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of the relaxed young master.
His peers are standing on the sidelines.
"He's not taking this seriously," Titus Keros said. "Is he that confident?"
"Or arrogance," Dawn Arcorn whispered, her glasses zooming in on Regius's stance. "Look at his feet. He's relaxed."
Cassius charged.
He moved in sync with his summon, a pincer attack designed to overwhelm a single target.
The Construct swung its lower blades in a scything arc while Cassius thrust his rapier at Regius's throat.
Regius stepped inside the Construct's guard; he slapped the flat of the Construct's blade with his gloved hand, redirecting the energy into the floor. Sparks flew as the blade gouged the stone.
In the same movement, he swayed his head to the left. Cassius's rapier missed his neck by a centimeter.
The Construct roared, spinning its upper blades. Regius ducked under the first, sidestepped the second, and tripped the Construct as it overextended. The massive machine crashed to its knees, gears grinding in confusion.
Cassius slashed wildly. "Stop moving!"
Regius slapped the heir's wrist. Not hard enough to break, just enough to sting.
Cassius thrust again. Regius struck his shoulder.
The Construct regained its footing and lunged. Regius spun past it, letting its momentum free so that it collided with its master.
The room watched in stunned silence.
Up on the balcony, Magnus Aethel watched his son with a mixture of pride and awe. Regius was a whole other level compared to the Marius Heir.
Lady Lucine's eyes widened. She wasn't watching a fight; it was a class act of humiliating the opponent.
On the floor, Helena Volantis lowered her wine glass.
"I did not know you have a cruel side in you."
The fight dragged on. Five minutes. Eight.
They approached the ten-minute mark—the limit for most Rank 2 summoners to maintain their summon at full output.
Cassius was gasping. Sweat soaked his crimson silk. His chest heaved, mana reserves flickering as he struggled to keep his summon active. He had thrown everything at the Aethel heir, and he hadn't touched a thread of his coat.
"Fight me!" Cassius screamed, his voice cracking. "Stop running, you coward!"
Regius stood in the center of the dome. No sweating; he wasn't even winded.
"Time is up," Regius said.
Cassius roared. He poured his remaining mana into the summon. The Construct's eyes flared red. It initiated a final attack, spinning all four arms in a reckless, lethal vortex, charging straight for Regius.
Regius channeled starlight into his glove. It coated his hands in a blade of pure light, humming with a divine frequency.
He parried the Construct's four blades with a single, sweeping motion of his right hand—a deflection that knocked the heavy construct backward as if it were made of paper.
Carried by his momentum, he stepped past the summon to face Cassius.
Cassius thrust his rapier, aiming for the heart.
Regius slashed upward with his left.
Slice.
The rapier completely missed its target, hitting nothing but air. The glove arced upward, passing through the wrist of the hand holding a rapier.
Cassius's hand, still gripping the sword handle, fell to the floor with a wet thud.
The wound was cauterized instantly by the heat of the star. Then, the shock hit. Cassius looked at his stump. He looked at his hand on the floor.
He screamed.
The summon dissolved into red smoke as Cassius's concentration shattered. He fell to his knees, clutching his arm, wailing in high-pitched agony.
The barrier dropped.
Regius flicked his hand, dismissing the starlight. He looked down at the screaming heir with cold eyes.
"What are you waiting for? Find a healer," Regius said. "Stitch it back up before your hand necroses."
The Observer raised his hand.
[VICTORY: REGIUS AETHEL]
The holographic window flashed above Regius's head.
Instead of thunderous applause, there was only silence.
On the ballroom floor, the outcome of the duel hadn't registered to them. They just watched a noble heir being toyed with and humiliated.
By no means was Cassius weak; his Construct was built for duels. With their combined attacks, they could overwhelm their opponents, cutting off any gaps or escapes. In a duel setting, Cassius could win against a middle Rank 2 and put up a fight against a high Rank 2.
"Is this the strength of a Savant?" one of the Noble children asked.
Savant. A title assigned to a select few in each generation. They were the best of the best, persons with immense talent and potential. The peak that would lead their generation.
When Regius was labeled as a Savant two years ago, most snickered at the idea. Even the Valiants had doubts that he was worthy of that title. Most saw him as a weak heir, who failed at the Rite at the age of twelve, needing to try again at fifteen.
"Are summoners with Elite-tier summons that strong?" Helena asked.
"He didn't use his summon energy," Dawn said. "He used it briefly at the end to cut the hand off."
Titus's eyes narrowed. His jovial expression disappeared, replaced with intense scrutiny.
The Savant they thought was mislabeled, had proved them wrong. Another rival had shown up, a terrifying one at that.
Regius didn't look at his peers. He looked up at the balcony.
His violet eyes locked onto Lord Marius.
The Head of House Marius gripped the railing, his face a mask of ashen horror. He looked at his maimed son, writhing on the floor, then at the boy who had done it.
Regius held the gaze. A killing intent so fierce, it seeped out of his being.
This is just the beginning.
He walked out of the makeshift dome, leaving the wailing boy and the stunned nobility behind him.
On the mezzanine balconies.
"A masterclass of efficiency," Duchess Valora said. "He dismantled his opponent with little effort. I look forward to his future, Magnus."
"Thank you, Valora," Magnus said. "Even I am impressed by his growth."
"Savants are known to rise among their peers. Glad to see that the assessor's judgment wasn't influenced by his bias."
High Assessors were the only people that had the position to give the Savant title to an Initiate. Berick had given the title to Regius to hide his true identity and explain his immense growth in a short time.
"Although Berick is a good friend of mine, his judgments are objective."
"Indeed."
Exchanges continued among the adults in the room. They discussed the duel and its outcome, also murmuring about the potential penalty Lord Marius would take.
Lucine, on the other hand, zoned out. She stared at the back of Regius walking outside. With no one paying attention to her, her brows creased, and her eyes drooped. She let her mask fall just for a moment.
"My boy…"