Lord of Caldera - Chapter 140

Chapter 140: Chapter 140

There was no ceremonial prelude; no prayers to the goddess for a fair duel. Such formalities were cumbersome in the North. Bjorn kicked off from the ground, his foot leaving a deep impression in the dirt.

“Hah!”

With a shout, he swung one of his axes, bringing it down on Sylas’s head with precision. Bjorn chuckled as he saw Sylas raise his sword to block.

“Go ahead, try blocking, kid.”

With Sylas’s weight, his stance would likely collapse on impact. And in that moment, Bjorn would launch a relentless barrage to overwhelm him.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Thwack!

“What the—!?”

Bjorn’s vision flashed white as something struck him hard. Shaking off the dizziness, he looked back at Sylas.

“Did he hit me with the hilt?”

It became clear from Sylas’s stance that he had closed in swiftly to strike Bjorn’s face with the hilt of his sword.

“Is that it?” Sylas sneered.

“It’s not over yet!” Bjorn’s face turned red with anger, though his mind was clear. “This kid knows how to fight.” He had been close to having his head split open by an axe but had closed in instead of retreating. Such a judgment could only come from someone with multiple life-and-death experiences. Gone was any thought of holding back.

“Fine, if that’s how it is!”

Bjorn narrowed his eyes, closing the distance with caution this time, positioning himself just right to keep Sylas within reach of his axes. Once Sylas entered his range, Bjorn swung both axes with fierce precision.

Whoosh

His axes sliced through the air, one on each side of Sylas. It looked as if he was aiming to slice from both sides, but it was a feint; the actual purpose was to prevent Sylas from closing in while maintaining his advantage.

“If he tries to block, I’ll press the attack until he crumbles.” Bjorn was ready to crush him in a relentless barrage. But then, Sylas’s sword moved.

Clang!

“Gah!”

Sylas struck precisely at the balancing point of Bjorn’s axes, destabilizing him and throwing his stance off. Before Bjorn could recover, the hilt of Sylas’s sword came crashing into his midsection.

Thwack!

“Lord Bjorn!”

Bjorn’s breath hitched as the hilt drove into his solar plexus. He stumbled back, gasping, and the men behind him shouted in alarm.

Cough, cough!

After several seconds, he managed to catch his breath. Just as he tried to recover his stance, Sylas closed in with relentless precision.

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

The blows came from every direction, sending sharp pains deep into his bones. Bjorn tried to retaliate, but each attempt was thwarted by a well-timed strike that disrupted his movements. The second he moved an arm, a blow hit his shoulder; when he tried to step forward, a strike landed on his knee. The attacks were so swift and skillful that he could barely respond. Finally, as the strikes ceased, Bjorn collapsed backward onto the ground.

Thud.

“Lord Bjorn!”

“You bastard!”

“Stop this at once!”

Bjorn’s followers moved to intervene, but halted when Bjorn, lying on the ground, barked, “Enough!” He struggled to his feet, wavering.

“It’s not over yet!” he declared defiantly.

Sylas rolled his eyes, muttering, “Stubborn fool.”

Sylas tapped his sword against the ground. At some point, it had already been sheathed. “If I had been using my blade, you’d be dead already.”

Bjorn clenched his jaw, unable to respond. As long as it was an honorable duel, he had no grounds to argue even if Sylas killed him. Yet, his chest burned with fury.

“Giving a handout to a beggar isn’t worth much.”

His teeth ground together at the memory of those words. To accept the result of the duel meant acknowledging Sylas’s words. “I’d rather die than do that.”

Bjorn struggled to his feet, blood trickling from his nose. Sylas, watching him, re-sheathed his sword at his waist.

“…What are you doing?” Bjorn spat out.

“If you want to continue, we can resume tomorrow,” Sylas replied with a casual tone.

“What?”

“A duel extension. Haven’t you heard of it?” It was a practice where, if neither party claimed victory by sunset, the duel could be paused and continued the next day. But this was an ancient tradition, typically reserved for heroes of old, not for those who fought to the point of exhaustion.

“The hell with that!” Bjorn shouted, glaring at Sylas. He couldn’t tell if Sylas’s intentions were out of pity or mockery, but either way, it was humiliating.

“Just shut up and draw your sword! It’s not over yet!”

Sylas raised an eyebrow. “You really want more?”

Bjorn ground his teeth, forcing himself to stand up, but his legs buckled beneath him. Every inch of his body ached. He knew he’d only get beaten up worse if he kept going. Sylas’s cold eyes met his.

“So, should we continue tomorrow? Or do you want to take more hits today?”

Bjorn stayed silent. If Sylas intended to kill him, he would’ve pushed to continue. But it seemed his goal was merely to keep beating him senseless. As much as he hated the thought, it was better than facing further disgrace in front of his subordinates.

“Fine… let’s continue tomorrow,” Bjorn muttered through gritted teeth.

“Good,” Sylas said with a satisfied grin. “Now, how about heating up some bathwater and preparing a meal? You got paid, so you should work for it, shouldn’t you?”

Bjorn said nothing, his fists clenching in silent rage.

The following day, Bjorn approached Sylas again, still brimming with anger. He seemed to have recovered enough to move around, though his injuries were still evident.

“The duel continues today!” Bjorn shouted.

“Alright,” Sylas replied, unsheathing his sword once more.

Thwack, smack, thud!

“Gah! Urgh!” The beating resumed as Sylas relentlessly struck him down. After Bjorn hit the ground, gasping, Sylas presented the same choices.

“Extension? Or are we ending it here?”

“If I choose to end it, are you going to kill me?” Bjorn asked bitterly.

“No, you’ll just keep taking hits until you pass out.”