Lord of Caldera - Chapter 232

Chapter 232: Chapter 232

“Then, I won’t refuse,” Sylas replied, bending his knees slightly, assuming a classic stance for a leap. Arathion prepared himself, predicting every possible attack path.

Then, just as Sylas slightly unbent his knees—

Whoosh!

“…!”

The Duke of Swords’ eyes widened in astonishment.

Watching Sylas and Arathion facing each other, Max sighed heavily.

“Why are they even bothering with this duel? It’s obvious my lord will lose.”

“Hey, we haven’t even started yet. Don’t jinx it,” Toby chided.

“But I’m not wrong, am I?” Max retorted, unwilling to back down. He acknowledged Sylas’s exceptional skills. Even Max himself wouldn’t last three moves if Sylas fought seriously.

But his opponent was Duke Arathion—an elven duke who had honed his swordsmanship for centuries. Victory seemed far-fetched. Eldira, too, seemed convinced of her father’s inevitable victory.

“Perhaps Father is trying to draw out Sylas’s full potential. It might be a form of training.”

“Then couldn’t they have done it privately? Why gather so many people here?” Max muttered, dissatisfied.

Toby and Rey, listening to the exchange, frowned. While it was understandable for Eldira to show faith in her father, Max’s low assessment of their lord seemed excessive. Sylas’s swordsmanship had reached a high level even before he consumed the heart of a dragon. Unable to hold back, Toby leaned over and whispered to Max.

“Just how strong is that duke, anyway?”

“My guess? As strong as the two of you combined,” Max replied.

“What? Seriously?”

“…!”

Both men were unable to hide their surprise. Despite his nickname as the “Duke of Swords,” could he really be that powerful?

“I saw him spar with elven knights at the Herning family’s training ground once. It was almost a show of force, really. He made sure we watched,” Max explained.

“So, you’re saying his combat power was on par with ours? You sure you weren’t seeing things?”

“I don’t know about strength, but his speed was definitely comparable. I’m sure of that.”

If that were true, then it was highly probable that Arathion’s power matched theirs. Rapid speed typically stemmed from physical strength. Could the duke also have ancient blood? Seeing Sylas’s group whispering, Eldira raised an eyebrow.

“What are you all talking about?”

“They were curious about how powerful your father is, so I was explaining,” Max replied.

“Wouldn’t it be quicker to ask me?”

Eldira shrugged, pride evident in her expression as she began to speak.

“My father is the last successor of the Fairy Swordsmanship. In this era, no swordsman surpasses him.”

“Fairy Swordsmanship? Is it really that powerful?” Rey asked.

“Of course! It requires various spells and rare herbs to fully master. The process is excruciating, but once mastered, it grants the strength to take on a thousand men single-handedly,” Eldira replied, her voice filled with pride.

Fairy Swordsmanship was a secret technique, combining swordsmanship, magic, and alchemy. While not on par with ancient blood, it significantly enhanced physical capabilities. Combined with the family’s relics, Arathion wielded a strength that even ancient bloodlines would struggle to match.

“I know there are still some who bear ancient bloodlines. But even if they possess superior strength, they wouldn’t be able to defeat Father in actual combat.”

“Why is that?”

“Even if ancient strength remains, the techniques to wield it have disappeared. When those of similar power clash, skill often determines the victor.”

A person who could shatter wood with their fists wouldn’t necessarily be able to break stone. Different levels of strength required different techniques.

“A strong person who tries to learn a weaker person’s swordsmanship will find it nearly useless. Swordsmanship is designed with the creator’s strength in mind. It might be somewhat useful, but in the end, it’s like wearing ill-fitting clothes,” Eldira explained.

Arathion had mastered swordsmanship that suited his own immense strength, thus earning his reputation as the “Duke of Swords” and reigning as the strongest swordsman of his time. Even those with ancient blood would have difficulty overcoming him unless they attacked in pairs.

“Even if Sylas has awakened the power of a dragon, it wouldn’t matter. Unless he’s inherited the full swordsmanship of the half-dragon Lachesis, he’ll always be at a disadvantage against Father’s superior technique….”

Boom!

A tremendous noise interrupted Eldira’s words, drawing everyone’s gaze to the center of the clearing. An intense shockwave rippled outward, shaking the air.

In that moment, Eldira saw it: her father, the Duke of Swords, the swordsman hailed as the strongest of his era, was being pushed back with a stunned expression.

“Disadvantage… huh….”

“Seems… pretty good odds,” Rey remarked, his tone casual. Eldira found herself at a loss for words.

“A friendly sparring match with the descendant of a half-dragon.”

Arathion’s sudden declaration caught everyone off guard. At first, it seemed random, but the elves soon caught on to the duke’s intention.

‘He wants to show that guy’s strength.’

‘It seems the duke has truly made up his mind.’

No one knew better than those present what the public opinion within the duchy was like. They understood that this sparring match was a clear statement of Arathion’s support for Sylas. Even so, most of them couldn’t hide their dissatisfaction as they prepared to act as spectators.

“This feels like we’re here as props.”

“Nothing new. We’re practically here to prop up that human.”

“Just because he’s inherited some half-dragon blood… how much could he possibly have?”

If they had been elves who had minimal interaction with humans, they might have found it intriguing. But those gathered here couldn’t. They were the ones stationed on the borders, still witnessing human greed firsthand, and many had been humiliated by the late Count Valdemar. The idea of the duke openly supporting a human filled them with bitterness.

“But if the duke has already made his decision, what can we do?”

“It leaves a sour taste, but we should at least act agreeable.”

They hadn’t expected anything from human strength, nor had they wanted to. Being called here felt more like an implicit command to fall in line with the duke’s wishes. Who could defy his overwhelming authority? For now, all they could do was grit their teeth and follow his lead.

“Do you think he’s really a descendant of a half-dragon?”

“Who knows? He might have a drop of some beast’s blood.”

“Well, as long as he can properly wield the power in his blood, I suppose that’s fortunate.”

“A human controlled by power… that’ll be quite the spectacle, won’t it?”

“That’s true. Power without skill is just an ape’s dance.”