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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: A Precarious Duel
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Gasp, gasp.
Werner, the Crown Prince's royal guard, was catching his breath. He had clearly run all the way from the knights' training grounds.
“Werner. What is it?”
“It’s… Gasp, hah. At the knights' division, Sir Isaac…”
Had Isaac's wrist fallen off?
If he shouted something like, *A zombie has appeared in the knights' division! Sir Isaac has turned into a zombie!* it would all be over.
I hid my trembling fingertips behind my back. Fortunately, Tristan's attention was solely focused on Werner.
“Well… Sir Isaac and Sir Harold are going to have a duel!”
“What?”
Tristan's expression hardened.
“Isn't this a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle! There have been countless bets over who's the strongest in the knights' division, but since those two have never fought directly, it's always fizzled out. With that in mind, I've placed my bet on Sir Harold!”
Werner paid no mind to his reaction and blurted out everything he wanted to say.
“Oh, my apologies, Lady Walker. That was rude of me. I bet on Sir Isaac last time, so please don't misunderstand.”
He even gave me a charming smile.
‘It's a relief he hasn't been discovered as a zombie, but…’
A duel, when he should be lying low. What on earth was Isaac thinking?
One wrong move and he could be exposed as a zombie in front of everyone.
‘No. As long as His Highness the Crown Prince doesn't see it himself, I might be able to handle the fallout somehow.’
“You are truly…”
Tristan pressed a hand to his forehead, as if Werner's antics were giving him a headache. Thankfully, he didn't seem interested in the duel—
“We're going immediately.”
“I knew you'd say that!”
As if to shatter my hopes, Tristan shot up from his seat.
“I already told them to save us the best seats! Let's go!”
“I suppose I can learn a thing or two.”
Being a knight himself, he seemed intrigued by a duel between skilled knights like Isaac and Harold.
I fought the urge to slap my forehead.
“Ah, if you're not too busy, would you care to join us, my lady?”
Werner naturally extended the invitation to me.
As the Crown Prince's royal guard, he was often friendly even with the scribes. Normally, I would have politely declined, but…
“May I?”
This time was different. I gave a slightly shy smile, laying the groundwork to get the duel called off.
“Actually, my brother Isaac hasn't been feeling well lately…”
“But I heard he broke three wooden swords during training just the other day?”
“…That's what worries me. I'm afraid he might be overdoing it.”
“He usually breaks about five. Why, there's a running joke in the knights' division that Sir Isaac eats up the most of our budget. Hahaha!”
Werner let out a hearty laugh. I barely restrained myself from punching him squarely in his exposed Adam's apple.
‘Brother Isaac… what in the world have you been doing?’
I hadn't known, since the budget allocation for the knights' division wasn't my responsibility. To think he was such a budget-devouring nuisance!
I offered a silent, heartfelt apology to the person in charge and followed Tristan and Werner out of the office.
***
‘What should I do…’
Isaac hid his troubled thoughts, forcing a calm expression as he gripped the wooden sword. Swish, swish. A few light swings told him he was fine, at least for now.
‘But if I put just a little more force into it.’
Crack!
A gruesome sound echoed from his wrist. Feeling as if his wrist might dangle off at any moment, Isaac carefully cradled it.
‘Damn it. I shouldn't have fallen for the provocation.’
He let out a deep sigh. If possible, he would have preferred to avoid this situation. He really would have.
If Harold hadn't touched a raw nerve, he surely would have laughed off any challenge.
-Isaac, about your sister. What was her name… Emily? Anyway, I hear she's a defective product with no abilities. She's getting on in years, wouldn't it be more profitable to sell her off to a good family?
The memory of that vile laugh made him grind his teeth again.
-I'm planning to make a formal marriage proposal soon, so I'm counting on you. Hmm? Of course, I know House Walker usually only takes in sons-in-law. But you're not planning on applying the same rule to a defective product, are you?
He knew it was a provocation, but he couldn't stand it.
Emily didn't deserve to be insulted like that by someone like Harold.
Strictly speaking, there was nothing particularly lacking about Emily.
True, she wasn't exceptionally gifted, but she was a lovely younger sister. Clever and kind.
But for a ‘Walker,’ that was clearly subpar.
Her cotton-candy pink hair and gentle, verdant eyes were quite fetching, but her light dimmed when she stood beside her siblings.
She was smart, but not as smart as the eldest, who could remember anything after seeing it once.
Her athleticism wasn't bad, but she couldn't compare to the second, a prodigy of strength who could shatter boulders with her bare hands.
Her dexterity was decent, but she fell short of her own twin sister, who could precisely mix chemicals to create potions.
In ‘that’ House Walker, whose members were blessed by the gods generation after generation with one outstanding talent, Emily was utterly ordinary.
‘But that's just what people who don't know anything say.’
Isaac often thought about how the family would have fallen to pieces after their parents' death if not for Emily's calm smile.
She was the sister who had been their pillar, standing firm when everyone else was lost and wandering.
No one could treat her with disrespect.
Isaac gripped the wooden sword tightly. The grace bestowed upon him by the gods was an unparalleled physical strength and resilience. Though now that he was a zombie, it was all but useless.
However, that didn't mean the experience he had accumulated over the years had vanished.
He slowly closed his eyes, then opened them. The time for the duel had arrived.
***
The training grounds, normally used only by the knights, were now crowded with people. It seemed everyone had heard about today's duel and flocked to see it.
But with the Crown Prince present, there was an invisible barrier around us, keeping everyone else away.
Thanks to that, we could watch in relative comfort despite the crowd.
“See? This is why it's so convenient to bring His Highness along.”
Werner said with a grin. It appeared he had brought Tristan along with this very intention.
“Oh, it looks like they're starting!”
We sat on the simple chairs Werner had brought. At the same time, Isaac and Harold appeared in the dueling arena.
‘His wrist…’
I found myself instinctively checking the state of his wrist. Thankfully, it was still attached.
“Both sides, bow.”
A duel between knights was an honorable battle in itself, so proper etiquette was required. The two exchanged polite bows.
“Ready!”
They took their stances a short distance apart, wooden swords in hand. I had to struggle to hide my anxious heart.
“Is he not feeling well?”
I jumped, startled by the voice that came from my left. Turning my head, I saw Tristan leaning toward me, his upper body slightly bent.
It was the first time I had seen him this close, and I instinctively averted my gaze.
“Pardon?”
“Sir Isaac, I mean.”
“Ah, my brother. Yes, well. He's been saying his stomach felt off for a few days. Perhaps he ate something bad…”
“That must be why his complexion is so poor. He looks deathly pale.”
Werner casually joined the conversation. Under the training grounds' lights, Isaac looked even paler.
‘Of course he does. He's a zombie.’
Not a single drop of blood flowed through his veins. It was only natural he had no color in his face.
‘From now on, I'll have to tell him to put something on his face before he leaves…’
He only looked this ghastly today because his leave request was denied and he had to rush to work. His complexion clearly screamed ‘I'm sick,’ and a few murmurs rose from the crowd.
“Is he alright?”
“Wait a minute. This changes things. I'm switching my bet to Harold!”
“Please win, Isaac. I've got so much money riding on you!”
A mix of hope and despair rippled through the onlookers. I studied the face of Harold, who stood opposite Isaac. Even though his opponent was clearly unwell, he showed no intention of calling off the duel.
‘Then again, it's probably no coincidence he challenged him to a duel today.’
Every brilliant talent casts a long shadow. With his innate talent, Isaac became the youngest knight, and then the youngest to join the Imperial Knights.
Everyone chattered that it was a foregone conclusion he would become the youngest knight commander. He had more than his fair share of jealous rivals.
“Be…gin!”
The moment the duel began, Harold charged.
“Hyaaaa!”
The wooden sword he swung wide aimed for the nape of Isaac's neck. Even for a wooden sword, a direct hit could cause serious injury.
Thwack! Swoosh.
But Isaac smoothly deflected Harold's sword. By redirecting the force of the blow instead of meeting it head-on, he sent Harold stumbling forward, off-balance.
Whoosh!
Isaac's sword then aimed for the back of Harold's neck.
Clack!
Harold blocked Isaac's sword as well and rolled across the ground to create distance.
He looked puzzled, twirling the wooden sword in his hand. It was likely because Isaac's strike had been far too light.
‘Just as I thought. He can't put any strength into it.’
I'm no expert in swordsmanship, but I had witnessed Isaac's monstrous strength firsthand since we were children.
If he had swung his sword with true intent, Harold's wooden sword would have been half-splintered by now.
Harold, too, seemed to have realized that Isaac was in no condition to use his full strength, even if he didn't know the details. A smirk curled his lips as he charged at Isaac head-on once more.
Clack, clack! Swish, bam!
The wooden swords clashed in midair several times. Every time Isaac deflected a blow, Harold would strike at an opening with uncanny speed.
He was openly forcing a confrontation. It was a strategy he could use only because he knew Isaac couldn't engage in a direct test of strength.
And Harold's choice was the right one. Because Isaac's wrist was beginning to twist at an unnatural angle.
Creeaak…
Others might have dismissed it as him just having a flexible wrist, but I could see it clearly.
His wrist was on the verge of snapping clean off
