Lord of Caldera - Chapter 253

Chapter 253: Chapter 253

Toby clicked his tongue in response to their smirks. “Embarrass himself? If you ask me, you two won’t dare oppose him again after this.”

“What…?”

Ulrich’s face darkened at the veiled insult. Dani, unable to hold back his temper, muttered, “How dare you—” but was interrupted by Sylas’s voice as he continued explaining to the Count.

“As I mentioned earlier, much of the Flame Wind Sword has changed. One of the biggest deviations from the original lies in the third technique.”

“The third technique… ‘The Dragon’s Jaw’?” Count Bill asked.

The Dragon’s Jaw was a move where the swordsman would lower their body to avoid an opponent’s high attack, then counter by targeting the neck or jaw, as if biting down. The family had always assumed it was a metaphorical way of striking a dragon’s weak spot.

“Yes, that’s correct. But as you know, this technique could never truly pierce a dragon’s jaw.”

“Hmm.”

Count Bill pondered this. He wasn’t one to disrespect the family’s founder, but he couldn’t deny Sylas’s point. From the ground level, how could one possibly strike a dragon’s jaw? A dragon’s head would be far too high.

“Though,” Bill said, “that’s just how techniques are named, isn’t it? It wasn’t meant to literally pierce a dragon—more to strike as if you were piercing one.”

“No,” Sylas replied.

“What do you mean, no?”

“This technique is truly meant to pierce a dragon’s jaw.”

“What?”

Leaving his father speechless, Sylas assumed a stance—the foundational pose of the Flame Wind Sword.

“Step forward, position your stance, evade the thrust, and then target the opponent’s head. It’s a well-crafted deception.”

While the core of the technique had been preserved, the true third technique was something else entirely. After a deep breath, Sylas stomped his foot down forcefully.

Boom!

A shockwave spread from his foot, splitting the ground and shaking the area around him. The knights staggered, scrambling to keep their balance.

Using the rebound from his foot, Sylas swung his sword with all his strength.

Whoosh!

A gust of wind sliced through the training ground, as though it could split a cloud right in half. The sheer force of the strike left the knights gaping. As he finished, Sylas met the Count’s gaze.

“This is the true ‘Dragon’s Jaw.'”

Count Bill’s eyes widened, taking in not only Sylas’s extraordinary strength but also the now undeniable truth of his words. This technique could indeed strike a dragon’s jaw with ease.

‘So our founder truly meant it…!’

Count Bill’s body trembled. As a knight, he felt a burning desire to witness the full prowess of this dragon-slaying technique.

“Could… could you show me the other techniques as well?” he asked.

“With pleasure,” Sylas replied, maintaining his smile. One by one, he executed the remaining techniques. When he slashed downward, the earth split apart. When he struck horizontally, it tore through the wall. When he unleashed consecutive strikes, the force created a whirlwind, forcing everyone to brace themselves against the fierce winds.

When the demonstrations ended, Sylas quietly lowered his sword.

“It’s finished.”

No one dared to speak. Everyone had assumed his tale to be nothing but exaggeration. Yet he had proven every word possible before their very eyes.

While everyone was still in awe, a tear rolled down Count Bill’s cheek.

“Ah…”

A mixture of awe at witnessing the essence of the lost sword technique and guilt for doubting his son churned within him.

‘My eyes were clouded. I knew he wouldn’t lie, and yet I doubted him!’

Filled with regret and self-reproach, the Count gazed at Sylas. As always, he didn’t hide his true feelings.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

Sylas gave a lighthearted smile, as if it were nothing. A single moment of doubt was a small price to pay to gain his father’s boundless trust.

The banquet ended in just one day due to a single commotion. Despite the extensive preparations, the atmosphere was no longer suitable to continue. Instead, the count began preparing for a grand festival.

“My son killed seven dragons in the north. Such a feat deserves to be celebrated as his father,” the count declared as his reason for the festival to those around him. However, no one was ignorant of the true reason behind it.

“It seems His Excellency feels guilty for doubting the young master.”

“Is he trying to make a public statement with this festival?”

“In truth, young master Sylas doesn’t seem to mind and has already moved past it.”

The count, who had always carefully maintained dignity and refrained from excessive extravagance, was different this time. The scale of this festival was unprecedented. It was clear that this wasn’t just a celebration; it was an act of atonement for his son. Although some found it excessive, no one opposed the festival.

“Well, a festival every once in a while isn’t bad.”

“Considering he’s been frugal until now, there’s plenty of budget.”

“Besides, it would be odd for those of us who had similar doubts to object.”

“Shh! Let’s not talk about it.”

With unanimous agreement among the administrators, preparations for the festival began. The residents of the territory, too, were thrilled about the grand celebration, the likes of which they had never seen. It was a joyous development for all involved—the count in his penance, the vassals eager to join in, and the townsfolk anticipating benefits.

If anyone was unhappy, it was only two people.

“….”

“Brother, is there something you want to say?”

“Oh, no… sir,” Dani mumbled, lowering his head whenever he looked at Sylas. Even he, despite his shortcomings, had to accept the situation at this point.

‘I’m no longer in a position where I can intervene.’

Personally, socially, and even in the family hierarchy, Sylas’s importance was significant enough to warrant mention in historical records.

‘It’s over.’

If he attempted any trickery, Sylas alone could bring him down in an instant, overpowering him with sheer strength. Even if Dani tried something, Sylas had no reason to worry. With his power, there was nowhere he couldn’t reach.

“If you have nothing to say, then I’ll be…”

“Don’t mumble. Speak clearly. What’s next?”

“I-I’ll be… taking my leave… sir.”