Volume 03, Chapter 104

  Before The Duel [3]

  Arthur stands still in the center of his bedroom, bathed in the warm, ambient glow of the chandelier above. The gentle light catches the fabric of his royal blue tailcoat, making the gold embroidery glisten like threads spun from sunlight.

  The coat fits him perfectly, flawlessly tailored. The baroque flourishes along the cuffs and lapels are crafted with the kind of precision only a master artisan can achieve. A line of silver-blue buttons runs down the front in perfect symmetry, leading the eye to the sapphire brooch at his collar, gleaming just above a crisp white cravat.

  A gradient cape drapes across his shoulders, starting in pristine white and fading to misty gray as it falls gracefully to the floor. It moves like fog catching a morning breeze—soft, elegant, ephemeral.

  Beneath it all, Arthur wears fitted black trousers that hug his frame and tuck just above his polished shoes—leather with gold trim. Each step is silent, and each detail sharp.

  He lets out a long breath.

  “Today is the day.”

  Arthur turns to face the window and walks toward it, the golden embroidery on his coat catching the light with every movement. He looks out at the sky.

  “I have to win this duel…” he mutters under his breath. “Even if he’s not Doms… I still want to win.”

  His voice is quiet, but the bitterness laced in it is hard to miss.

  “Clark is inhabiting Dom’s body… and seeing that face, hearing that voice, it pulls everything back. Every time I see him, I remember how Doms used to overshadow me…”

  Arthur clenches his jaw, then shakes his head.

  “What am I saying? He’s not Doms. He’s Clark.” He raises his hands and slaps his cheeks once, twice, trying to snap himself out of it.

  “I keep reminding myself… it’s Clark. Not Doms. But even now… even now, I’m preparing for this duel like I’m facing him.”

  His gaze falls, his voice softening.

  “He left this world before I ever resolved my feelings. I never got to beat him. Never proved I could stand on equal ground…”

  Arthur exhales sharply and runs both hands through his hair, trying to shove those thoughts into a mental drawer.

  “Focus. Just focus on the duel.”

  He turns and approaches the king-sized bed in the center of his room. Laid neatly across it is the sword he retrieved from the Temple du Sceptre Lié.

  He reaches out and grips the hilt, pouring some mana into the sword.

  —Fwoosh.

  A familiar surge of energy rushes through him. His mana reserves spike, his core stabilizing under the influence of the sword’s enchantment.

  “With this sword, my mana reserves are bolstered just by holding it,” Arthur mutters, staring at the glowing blade. “I don’t know how much mana Clark gained from that ritual of his… but with this temporary boost, I can pressure him. Suffocate him with overwhelming output.”

  He raises the sword and gives it a clean, practiced swing. The air responds, parting with a sharp whistle.

  “His magic attribute is Umbran,” Arthur continues aloud. “Shadow-based. A rare affinity. A direct contrast to mine.”

  He narrows his eyes.

  “But he’s only had a single day to train. There’s no way he’s learned any proper spells yet. He may not even know how to control that kind of power.”

  Arthur’s gaze shifts to the bedside table.

  There sits a photo in a polished silver frame. He reaches out and picks it up.

  In the photo, two boys smile at the camera—him and Dominic, back in their second year of middle school. Dominic has an arm wrapped casually around Arthur’s shoulders, a gold medal glinting on his chest.

  Arthur, next to him, wears silver.

  Both are smiling.

  But only one smile reaches the eyes.

  Arthur stares at the image, his thumb brushing over the glass.

  “I remember this,” he whispers. “It was a chess tournament… I made it to the finals, and Doms beat me without even trying.”

  He looks away from the picture, jaw tight.

  “I smiled, but I hated it. I hated that I couldn’t catch up to him no matter how hard I worked.”

  He lets the picture fall gently back onto the table.

  “But this time… it’s different.” He grips the sword tighter, the blade humming softly in response. “This time, I won’t be second.”

  —Knock! Knock!

  The heavy double doors of Arthur’s room echo with two firm knocks.

  “Who is it?” Arthur calls, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.

  “Young Master, it’s me, Blake!”

  A deep, gravelly voice replies from the other side.

  Arthur raises a brow. ‘Blake? What’s he doing here?’

  Blake isn’t just any staff member—he is the Lyon estate’s blacksmith. Known for crafting some of the finest weapons in the territory, Blake also oversees the region’s steel supply, ensuring that every major infrastructure project has the materials it needs. If it is made of steel in Lyon territory, Blake likely had a hand in it.

  “Come in,” Arthur says.

  —Creak.

  The doors open, revealing the towering form of Blake.

  He wears a blacksmith’s apron over a dark, soot-stained shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular arms marked by years of labor. His skin is tanned from constant forge heat, and his orange hair is pulled back messily, a few strands falling into his glowing amber eyes. A leather tool belt hangs around his waist, filled with small hammers, tongs, and chisels.

  But what catches Arthur’s attention is what Blake holds in his hands.

  A scabbard—elegant and radiant.

  The scabbard gleams with a smooth silver-white finish that shimmers like starlight, as if it is glowing faintly from within. A thin golden line runs down the center, flanked by light-blue gems that emit a soft, magical glow.

  Near the opening, intricate angel wings are carved into the metal, mirroring the design of Arthur’s sword hilt. At the bottom, the tip flares out into a gold flourish with a small blue gem shaped like a blooming flower bud.

  But beyond its appearance… Arthur feels it.

  The same light magic as the sword.

  His eyes widen. ‘Wait… this scabbard—’

  “Young Master Arthur,” Blake says with a small smile. “Do you remember this scabbard?”

  “Of course I do!” Arthur exclaims, quickly crossing the room. “That rusty old scabbard I bought from Galerie des Trésors... This is it?!”

  He hurries over and stares in disbelief at the transformation. What once was a neglected, near-worthless relic now looks like something made for a divine knight.

  “How did you even fix it?” he asks, astonished.

  Blake scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I didn’t. Not really. I was just about to clean it when it transformed on its own.”

  “Transformed?” Arthur echoes, stunned.

  “Yup. Didn’t even need tools. One moment it was rusted, the next—shining like this.” Blake shrugs, clearly as bewildered as Arthur.

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  Arthur stares at the scabbard again, his fingers brushing the silver surface. The light magic thrums gently beneath his touch, resonating with the sword at his side.

  “Monsieur Blake, may I…?”

  “Of course. You bought it, after all,” Blake says, holding it out.

  Arthur takes the scabbard into his left hand while gripping his sword in the right.

  The moment he holds the two together, he feels it in his core—an unshakable instinct.

  These two are meant to be together.

  He slides the sword into the scabbard.

  —Click.

  It fits perfectly.

  Arthur stares in silence. “It fits…”

  “Incredible, Young Master!” Blake beams. “It’s like it was made for it!”

  Arthur doesn’t reply immediately. The design, the magic, the fit—everything matches. The sword and the scabbard are a set, hidden in plain sight. And though the scabbard doesn’t emit as much mana as the sword, it holds just enough to be felt, like a whisper backing a roar.

  Then—

  “Young Master Arthur!”

  A voice cries from the hallway.

  A young woman rushes to the doorway, breathless. Her raven-black hair is tied neatly in a low bun, and her fair skin stands out against the crisp black and white of her maid uniform.

  “Mademoiselle Frech?” Arthur asks. “What’s wrong?”

  She takes a moment to catch her breath. “Lumi Everheart… has arrived. Unannounced!”

  Arthur’s jaw drops. “Lumi? Why would she come?”

  “I-I’m not sure either,” Frech stammers.

  Arthur frowns, stroking his chin. ‘That’s strange. Lumi only ever comes for formal guild meetings...’ he thinks.

  “Phew, would you look at that?” Blake grins, nudging Arthur with an elbow. “Looks like that Everheart girl’s interested in you, young Master. You’ve got yourself a fan.”

  Arthur flushes and waves him off. “I-I highly doubt that! She probably came because Cla—Doms told her about the duel. That’s all!”

  “Heh,” Blake chuckles knowingly.

  “H-Hey! Stop looking at me like that!”

  “Monsieur Blake,” Frech interjects, “please don’t tease Young Master. Besides, Lumi and Arthur have a complicated history. As heirs of rival guilds, their relationship has always been… tense.”

  Arthur gives her a thankful smile—until she adds:

  “Though, I do admit… it’s kind of fun watching a potential ‘enemies to lovers’ story unfold.”

  “Hey!” Arthur barks, turning beet red.

  Blake bursts into laughter. “Even Frech is saying it! You’re done for, Young Master.”

  Frech nods, matter-of-fact. “She only ever visits for official gatherings. This is her first time arriving uninvited.”

  “Exactly!” Blake adds. “And it just happens to be right before your duel? Come on.”

  Arthur groans, covering his face with one hand. “Can someone please take me to her before this gets worse…”

  Frech bows slightly. “Of course, Young Master. Please follow me.”

  ════ ?★? ════

  A sleek white limousine glides along the golden-paved pathway leading to the Lyon chateau, its polished frame gleaming beneath the midday sun.

  The estate workers and gardeners lining the grounds pause what they are doing, turning their heads as the vehicle comes to a gentle stop before the grand entrance.

  The chauffeur steps out and opens the passenger door with practiced precision.

  Lumi Everheart emerges.

  She wears a vibrant red midi dress adorned with a delicate white floral print that dances with every subtle movement. The wrap-style neckline forms a soft V-cut, and a slender tie at the waist cinches the fabric gently around her silhouette. The hem falls just below the knees, offering a breezy, summery elegance.

  Draped over her shoulders is an open ivory-white blazer—a piece that adds structure to the femininity of her dress. The slightly oversized fit and relaxed shoulders give it an effortless poise, striking a perfect balance between formality and charm.

  She carries a small white handbag, structured and minimalist, in one hand. Her white espadrille wedges, complete with ribbon ankle ties, click softly against the stone path as she walks.

  The workers cannot help but gawk.

  “Hey, isn’t that Lumi Everheart?” one gardener whispers.

  “Yeah… What is she doing here? There’s no scheduled summit between guilds today.”

  “Maybe she came to watch the duel?”

  “Could be. But… who do you think she’s cheering for?”

  “I’d say Arthur, right?”

  “Not sure… she’s hard to read.”

  Lumi hears the murmurs, but her expression remains icy-cool, unreadable. She is not here for small talk or speculation.

  She is here to watch the duel.

  —Clank!

  The chateau’s towering double doors open with a stately echo, pushed wide by the servants.

  Arthur Lyon steps out.

  Dressed in full formal attire, sword scabbarded at his side, he blinks in mild surprise upon seeing her.

  “Lumi,” he says evenly. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

  Her frosty demeanor cracks ever so slightly, her eyes widening for the briefest moment.

  “Ah… it seems I forgot to inform you,” Lumi replies, her voice calm but carrying a note of awkward formality. “I’m here to observe your duel with Dominic. I apologize for the lack of notice.”

  Arthur exhales softly. “Apology accepted. So… Dominic told you about it?”

  “No. I was there at the E?eforte train station, remember?” she says, tilting her head. “You told him when and where the duel would take place. I decided then that I would attend.”

  Arthur blinks. “Right…looks like I forgot.”

  Lumi glances around the estate grounds, taking in the sweeping terraces, the lush gardens, and the marbled statues lining the central fountain.

  “I’ve been to your chateau several times,” she says, “but never had the chance to properly explore it.”

  Arthur frowns, puzzled. “Really? I thought our staff had given you a full tour.”

  “One of your butlers did attempt to,” she admits, folding her hands behind her back. “But I refused.”

  “Why?”

  She turns her gaze on him, tone level but pointed. “Arthur, I assumed you’d know this by now. As fellow heirs, you should have been the one to guide me. Not a servant. It was… disappointing. At the time, I felt insulted.”

  Her words are not harsh, but they strike a chord.

  Arthur scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “O-Oh… I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  All this time, Arthur believed Lumi kept her distance because they were heirs of rival guilds—two dynasties that hold power over Verdant Haven and two-thirds of the Golden Fields Region. He thought the coldness was political. Inevitable.

  But now… he realizes it had been personal.

  And he had not even noticed.

  Arthur’s expression softens as he steps forward. Then, without hesitation, he extends a hand.

  “If that’s the case…” he says gently, “allow me to correct that.”

  Lumi blinks, visibly caught off guard.

  “I’ll give you the tour myself,” Arthur says, offering a small but sincere smile.

  Lumi’s icy expression cracks.

  Just a little.

  A faint, almost invisible smile tugs at her lips—so rare it nearly startles him.

  After a brief pause, she reaches out and takes his hand.

  ════ ?★? ════

  Arthur and Lumi stroll side by side through the sprawling gardens of the Lyon chateau.

  The garden stretches out like a maze of artistry. Rows upon rows of intricately trimmed bushes shaped like lions, eagles, and mythical beasts.

  Marble statues of ancient heroes stand silently among them, each one posed in lifelike detail. Pathways made of white cobblestone curve between flowerbeds and topiaries, guiding visitors toward different sections of the estate’s grounds.

  Attractions dot the space: a hedge maze near the eastern wall, an elevated terrace adorned with hanging vines and glowing crystal lanterns, and at the center of it all, an ornate glass gazebo surrounded by dancing dragonfly-like Aether constructs.

  Arthur gestures ahead. “That section over there used to be a rundown forest. Overgrown. Wild. Father had it cleared and completely renovated.”

  They approach the area, where the scenery shifts into an expanse of gently swaying pink flowers, tall, delicate, and fragrant.

  “He called it the Garden of Avalon,” Arthur continues. “Said it reminded him of peace.”

  Lumi stops and takes in the view, the wind rustling the sea of petals. “I see…”

  They continue onward.

  Their path brings them to a completely different section—one that feels like stepping into another country.

  This part of the garden is Celestrian-inspired. Graceful stone pagodas stand at intervals, their curved rooftops catching the sunlight. Bamboo stalks line the walkways in organized rows, rising tall and serene.

  The ground is tiled with smooth stone paths, and over a small koi pond arches a red bridge, draped in fluttering cherry blossom petals.

  “This area…” Arthur begins, “is inspired by Celestria. My father hired landscape designers from there to help bring this vision to life.”

  Lumi examines the space calmly. “It’s… quite unique. Harmonious in its structure.” She then glances at their hands. “…Also, could you let go of my hand?”

  Arthur blinks. He hasn’t realized he’s been holding her hand since the tour began.

  His body stiffens. “I—I apologize!” He quickly releases her hand, his face reddening.

  Lumi’s tone remains calm. “Don’t worry. It’s okay.”

  Still, Arthur turns away slightly, ears flushed pink. “A-anyway, let’s continue this way.”

  They walk in silence for a few moments, eventually arriving at a circular clearing with a grand marble fountain at its center. Water dances from tiered basins, the sound tranquil and melodic. Surrounding it are benches shaded by flowering trees and beds of lavender and forget-me-nots.

  “This is my favorite spot,” Arthur says, walking toward the edge of the fountain. “Especially at night. The sound of the water is… peaceful.”

  “I can see why,” Lumi replies softly.

  Arthur sits on the fountain’s edge, and after a moment, Lumi does the same, settling right beside him.

  They say nothing at first.

  But for once, the silence isn’t awkward.

  It is calm.

  Comfortable.

  Arthur leans back, glancing at the sky through the canopy of branches above. The golden hue of the setting sun filters through the leaves.

  “You know,” he says, voice low, “I always thought you hated me.”

  Lumi turns to him, saying nothing.

  “Because we’re heirs,” Arthur continues, “to rival guilds, and all that. I assumed you avoided me on purpose.”

  He gives a small, self-deprecating smile. “But now I realize… you probably just didn’t like that I wasn’t the one who toured you all those years ago.”

  “…Yeah,” Lumi replies, eyes forward. “It was petty of me. Childish, even. But I held onto it.”

  Arthur lets out a chuckle. “It’s okay. Honestly? I deserved it.” He turns toward her, a little more relaxed now. “It’s fine to be petty sometimes.”

  Lumi looks at him.

  And for the first time in a long while… she smiles. A real one.

  “Young Master Arthur!”

  The call comes from across the garden, sharp and urgent.

  Arthur and Lumi turn to see one of the butlers jogging toward them across the stone path, his expression slightly flustered.

  Arthur straightens. “Yes?”

  The butler stops in front of them, catching his breath before announcing, “Monsieur Dominic has arrived.”

  Arthur’s eyes light up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. So it’s time.

  He stands from the fountain’s edge, and Lumi rises with him.

  “Lead us to him.”

  “At once, Young Master!”

  The butler turns and briskly walks ahead. Arthur and Lumi follow side by side through the winding garden paths.

  As they walk, Arthur glances sideways. “So… just curious, who are you going to cheer for?”

  Lumi’s gaze remains forward. “I’m not taking sides,” she replies plainly. “I’m here to observe you both. After all, you’re both aiming for Verdant Arcanum, aren’t you?”

  Arthur nods. “Right. You want to scope out the competition.”

  She gives a small shrug. “Naturally.”

  “But,” he continues with a smirk, “who do you think will win between us?”

  Lumi taps a finger to her chin in thought. “If I had to guess… you.”

  Arthur blinks, slightly surprised. “Really?”

  “You’re faster,” Lumi says. “And you’ve got more spell versatility. He beat me, yes, but I was caught off guard by how skilled he was in close-quarters combat and how fast he could move. Still… you’re trained. Disciplined. You know how to use your magic in more than one way.”

  Arthur chuckles. “Thanks for the vote of confidence… but there’s one thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “Doms… is a Manaficial now.”

  Lumi’s eyes widen just slightly, her footsteps slowing for half a second. “Since when?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Lumi frowns. “Then this duel’s lopsided. Why would you schedule it today? Shouldn’t he get time to adjust? Learn how to control spells?”

  “I could’ve waited,” Arthur says with a shrug. “But Doms is smarter than you think. Remember, he beat you before he became a Manaficial.”

  “…True,” she admits, folding her arms. “Even as a Manaless, he kept up with me. What’s his magic attribute?”

  “Umbra.”

  Lumi’s expression turns thoughtful. “Darkness… rare, but incredibly powerful. Especially if he learns to master it.”

  Arthur nods. “Which is why I can’t afford to underestimate him, not even for a second.”

  The two continue walking in silence, the anticipation of the duel hanging between them like a silent drumbeat.