Fredrick came so fast Rayne nearly forgot to snap up his shield in time. One moment, he smiled at him with the gaze of a predator, and the next, he lunged, blade aiming for his shoulder.

  Rayne put up his shield just in time. Steel rang against steel, and sparks flashed as the edge slid down towards his arm. He managed to deflect the blow as Fredrick jumped back, but the next second, he came with another ferocious strike.

  His sword whistled through the air as he moved with jabs in quick succession. Rayne planted his feet in the dirt, bracing against each of the strikes.

  Fredrick’s speed was incredible, and the man had truly been in a fair share of duels. But what surprised Rayne wasn’t the quick attacks, but how each of them were aimed to disarm him or target his vitals. He was going all out from the start.

  But Rayne wasn’t willing to give him the satisfaction of first blood.

  Sparks continuously rang out as he deflected each blow with his shield. But every time, Fredrick returned with another, slowly inching inside his guard. And he nearly made a cut when Rayne staggered back a step after one attack.

  Fredrick pressed his advantage, aiming for his sides, but Rayne twisted out of the way just in time and swung at him. Instead of deflecting, his opponent jumped backwards and bared his teeth at him.

  “You are too fucking slow!” he barked, moving his blade for an overhead strike. “How the fuck did you manage to survive the trolls? I will kill you today and feed your flesh to the crows by night.”

  Rayne blocked the blow, stabbing at Fredrick’s chest. But his blade only met air as Fredrick sidestepped and grinned before moving to attack with another flurry of lightning-quick strikes.

  They didn’t manage to push him back. Rayne steadied his breath, eyes fixed on each of the attacks as he let his opponent waste his energy. Unfortunately, Fredrick seemed to have a bundle of it.

  Nate’s words kept echoing in his mind even through the cheers and noise from the crowd, and the whistling of the blade in the air. Fredrick used a variation of the same Swiftwind style that Bran had shown him. It was perfect for duels, and the man prided himself on finishing each of them quickly.

  But winning duels had also made him predictable.

  Even as another strike bounced off his shield, he saw the patterns. Fredrick jumped in for four strikes in quick succession, aimed at his shoulders and torso, then swept low, thrusting at his legs.

  Rayne waited for just that opportunity. As the man finished the first four strikes, his blade aimed towards his legs. He let the strike happen, sliding back just in time instead of blocking like the previous few times.

  And then, he stabbed forward, using all his strength to make a cut through the armour.

  Fredrick’s eyes widened at the unexpected strike, but instead of using his shield, he sidestepped, letting the blade pass and looking at him in confusion, and the first hint of fear.

  It was gone as soon as it came. Fredrick grunted, swinging down on his blade. Sparks rang out as both their weapons clashed.

  Rayne charged right in with a dash, aiming to throw him on the ground, but his opponent dodged once again, putting distance between the two of them.

  The crowd erupted in cheers, some sneers and boos mixed among them.

  “Fucking traitor.” Fredrick spat on the ground. “I was going to kill you fast, but now I’m going to take my time slow and—”

  Rayne took that opportunity to attack. He covered the distance with two jumps and slashed at his shield arm. His blade clashed against the plate of the shield, and he pushed him back.

  Fredrick staggered, almost losing his footing. A wobbly swing came at him that Rayne dodged easily, and he answered it with his own strike that managed to snag the leather on his side.

  A sharp hiss came out of Fredrick’s mouth. Blood leaked from his side and the cheers of “First blood!” filled the grounds.

  “Bastard! You are going to fucking pay for that?!”

  Fredrick charged right in again, completely ignoring the pain. Rayne jumped back as a swing missed his neck by inches before bracing for more quick attacks.

  His opponent was clearly overextending himself as he moved with reckless anger. His style shifted from careful, quick strikes to ones with far more weight behind them. His speed increased, and Rayne almost wondered if it was some sort of passive skill.

  In the end, it hardly mattered.

  The crowd cheered as he got pushed back with each strike, reaching the edge of the circle. Fredrick followed a jab with a wide swing, then another thrust aimed to draw blood. Another set of sword attacks that Rayne studied.

  With each block and parry, Fredrick grew tense and rageful. In his mind, it should have already been over. Rayne could see the desperation every time they met eyes.

  Fredrick lunged again, silver blade darting for his chest. Rayne pivoted, twisting his shield to bat the strike away, then lashed forward with his own sword. Fredrick parried smoothly, grinning with bloodlust.

  “Too slow again! Maybe I’ll carve your eyes out first!”

  They exchanged another pair of attacks before Rayne jumped back from a wide swing. As soon as it ended, he rushed to finish it off, but Fredrick managed to block the attack just in time.

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  Their swords locked, faces inches apart. Rayne could smell his opponent’s breath, hear the rasp of his teeth grinding.

  “I will spill every drop of your dirty, filthy blood here in the grounds!”

  “You talk too much,” Rayne muttered.

  He shoved Fredrick away, then moved to thrust at his shoulder blades. His opponent twisted and parried the strike with the shield before circling him. Another pair of quick jabs came at him as his opponent’s blade hung low.

  Rayne blocked each of them, but Fredrick followed it with a slam from his shield. He hadn’t prepared for it, knowing that Swiftwind style hardly used one, and staggered backwards.

  A flash of steel came for his neck, and he jumped to the side, but another stab came for his legs. His blood spilled on the ground as Fredrick pulled back his blade, a wild grin on his face.

  Pain lanced through Rayne’s leg. The crowd cheered Fredrick’s name, but there was no time to inspect his wound or notice the spectators. Another jab was already upon him.

  Rayne blocked it with his sword before stepping back, putting distance between the two of them. With his leg wounded, he wouldn’t be able to move as well, but he couldn’t afford to stand in one place.

  Hence, despite the pain, Rayne kept blocking and dodging each of the strikes that came his way. Seeing blood seemed to have rejuvenated Fredrick as his intensity returned.

  Shouts of his name filled the air—“Fredrick! Fredrick!”—but Rayne heard nothing but his own heartbeat. Fatigue built up inside of him, but he could feel that the duel was coming to a close. He couldn’t afford to lose.

  Rayne set his jaw. Another strike came for his leg and he blocked, but Fredrick slid the blade off the shield and managed to make a line on his arm.

  His arm stung, but the cut was shallow. He endured, lifted his shield, and focused, waiting. Fredrick charged again, wild with rage and exuberance, his strikes faster but sloppier.

  Rayne parried, ducked, angled his shield, letting the storm break uselessly on his guard. His eyes traced each strike as they pushed him towards the boundary of the circle, waiting for one opportunity.

  Then he saw it—the outward step of the foot, the swing of the arm that left his lower body completely vulnerable. A pattern he could exploit.

  Rayne struck, dodging a strike and parrying another. But as Fredrick took a step back for a breath, he lunged. A shield came to block the attack on the arm, but it was nothing more than a feint. He twisted his sword and lashed out, catching Fredrick across the thigh.

  Another line of blood was drawn, and his strike dug deeper than what Fredrick had managed.

  Fredrick screamed, stumbling back, but his fury only grew. He spat at Rayne, face red with hate. “You think this does anything? You’re nothing! Nothing but a stain I’ll wipe from this world! I should have killed you in the forests back then!”

  He charged recklessly, ignoring the pain, blade raised high. Rayne ducked low, pivoted, and slammed his shoulder into Fredrick’s exposed side. The man staggered, and before he could balance himself, Rayne’s shield slammed into his chest.

  His body landed on the ground with a thud.

  Fredrick widened his eyes as Rayne swung at his neck, his shield coming just in time to block the attack. But Rayne was aiming for that.

  He threw his own shield down at Fredrick’s stomach. A scream tore through the grounds as Fredrick lost his air. Rayne took that opportunity to grab the red-plated shield, managing to get it off without any struggle.

  Fredrick tensed, hands moving to raise his sword, but Rayne’s blade was at his throat before he could do so.

  The crowd fell silent.

  Fredrick froze, chest heaving and fear flickering through his eyes. Rayne’s blade pressed against the vulnerable skin of his neck, one movement away from ending it.

  Despite that, he spat. “Fucking kill me and end it. Show everyone that you are the same as your traitor household!”

  Rayne pushed his blade an inch closer to the flesh. Fredrick’s lips trembled, words dying in his throat. “You have lost. Stop acting like that! It’s not your victory in any way.”

  Rayne stared into his eyes with a cold expression. A voice in his head told him to finish it, end Fredrick and take revenge for the accusations, but that might cause him far more problems later down the line.

  So instead, he drew back the blade. Fredrick’s smile almost returned to his lips, but then with all the force of his frustration, Rayne drove his fist into his nose.

  The man crumpled to the ground and screamed. Blood sprayed on his fist and the crowd gasped in shock.

  Rayne moved his bloodied fist right in front of Fredrick’s face, then raised it in the air. Looking down on him, he spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Your blood doesn’t seem any different than mine. If you or anyone calls me a filthblood next time, we are going to be comparing blood. And I won’t have mercy then.”

  Rayne gave Fredrick one last look, sword still in hand, chest rising and falling with measured breaths.

  “You lost,” he said simply.

  His gaze moved through the crowd before he inclined his head to look at Captain Edran, who stepped forward.

  He looked the most shocked out of all of them and looked down on Fredrick before speaking. “The blood duel is over. Fredrick could clearly not fight anymore, and Rayne had spared his life. He won the blood duel, and the gods had seen it all. They have decided he’s innocent and as a result, he will receive everything in Fredrick’s possession!”

  His voice turned out to be a catalyst for cheers. In seconds, the whole crowd erupted in claps and roars. Minutes ago, they had been wanting his death, but now they called out his name like he was a war hero.

  Rayne heard Nate and Kesh’s voices over all the others and turned to see them hugging each other and celebrating. He didn’t move to join them.

  Instead, he walked straight toward Axel and Hobbs, who stood to the side of Captain Edran. His eyes locked onto his squad leader, whose expression showed conflict.

  “I did what you asked of me,” he said, his voice barely audible over the cheers. “I hope you won’t be a part of such schemes from now on, and will take better care of spare keys.”

  Hobbs widened his eyes and the others around them perked their ears to listen. Axel simply gave him a blank stare and sighed. “You got it, forsaken. I’ll make sure Fredrick can’t do anything to you.”

  Rayne nodded. It was the only thing he wanted. If Fredrick stopped scheming against him, he doubted others would. Not after the warning he had given just now.

  He stared at Axel for a few seconds more, wanting to say and ask more. But he knew it wasn’t the time. Hence, he simply turned around, passing a few soldiers trying to get Fredrick to the healers.

  He needed some healing himself, but Rayne ignored all the pain in his body and simply walked towards his party.

  Nate matched eyes with him as soon as he joined the crowd. “We are going to eat and drink good today, Rayne,” he shouted. “Drinks and meat are on me. Let’s fucking celebrate tonight!!”

  The crowd erupted in another set of cheers.

  ***

  Author's Note - Fredrick has a lot of title and passive skill advantages in duels as a result of his house.