Chapter 300

As the agreement was reached smoothly, Theo and Kalen each returned to their respective camps.

The sound of their horses’ hooves differed.

Theo’s horse exuded a lively rhythm, while Kalen’s carried a solemn weight.

“A bloodless entry is now possible.”

A subtle smile graced Theo’s lips.

Initially, the sight of the airships had clouded his mind with worry, but now the prospect of a champion’s duel felt like a great gift.

“How did it go?”

Julius stepped forward and asked.

His aura seemed to radiate energy, as if he had been warming up for a battle.

“We’ll settle this with a champion’s duel,” Theo replied.

At those words, Julius grinned widely.

In the North, a champion’s duel meant a battle between lords.

And...

“I’ll finally get to see how much he’s grown.”

The anticipation brought a smile to Julius’s face.

He had already heard about what had transpired in the Demon Sea, but hearing stories was nothing compared to witnessing it firsthand.

Julius felt his heart pounding with excitement.

“Then, I’ll be on my way,” Theo said with calm confidence.

The serene composure Theo displayed made Julius feel as if he were looking at a grown-up child.

Of course, he didn’t have any children of his own yet.

Suddenly, someone’s face flitted through Julius’s mind, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well then, take care,” Julius said, regaining his composure and bowing respectfully.

Theo responded with a smile and headed toward the center of the battlefield.

Kalen was already there, waiting.

“Have you said your goodbyes?” Kalen sneered with a twisted smile.

“You don’t look like someone who’s prepared a grave. Or have you already resigned yourself to death?” Theo retorted with an equally twisted grin.

A vein on Kalen’s forehead twitched.

“...Such arrogance from a young pup.”

“Arrogance? Coming from someone like Narsio? That’s rich.”

“What... did you say?”

The whites of Kalen’s eyes turned bloodshot, veins cracking like lightning.

To hear such words from a mere substitute for Kyle—it was a humiliation too great to bear.

“Not once have you ever surpassed Ragnar. You’ve never even stood on equal footing. And yet you dare to utter such nonsense… laughable,” Theo said with a mocking laugh.

As Theo looked down on him, Kalen’s face flushed with anger.

“He’s just a mass of inferiority complex.”

To think that someone who couldn’t even fully control his emotions was the Grand Elder of the Narsio family.

“If you wanted to be treated as an equal to my father’s generation, you should’ve acted your age. Oh, but I suppose it was too much to ask, given you’ve never won even once,” Theo said, his tone dripping with scorn.

The mocking laughter seemed to make every sound in the area vanish.

Thump, thump, thump.

The only thing audible was the pounding of Kalen’s enraged heart.

Shing!

“You brat!” Kalen roared, drawing his sword.

Scarlet mana surged violently, spreading out and corroding the surrounding area.

“As expected of a Grand Elder... his aura is as fiery as his personality.”

Feeling the fierce, flame-like mana, Theo grinned.

He thought to himself, “This might actually be a bit fun.”

***

“Your tongue is just as sharp as his,” Kalen thought to himself.

Age? Such a thing didn’t matter.

Preserving one’s pride was meaningless in the face of an overwhelming wall—too immense to climb, too unyielding to scale.

To Kalen, Kyle had always been an insurmountable obstacle.

A sky too vast to reach.

The gap between them had been apparent for a long time, but the memory of that day still haunted Kalen like a nightmare.

Back then, the Narsio family celebrated the birth of a genius, a prodigy who would elevate their lineage.

Within the family, no one doubted Kalen’s ability.

That was, until he faced Kyle in a duel at a Ragnar-hosted event.

Brimming with arrogance and confidence, Kalen had walked onto the dueling stage, utterly certain of his victory.

He was convinced it would be another triumph to add to his collection.

But...

“...What?”

He remembered crossing swords, but the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, staring up at the sky.

Admitting defeat was something Kalen couldn’t do.

Kyle, though younger by nearly half his age, had completely bested him.

That humiliation had burned deep into Kalen’s young heart.

From that day onward, he immersed himself in relentless training.

Years passed, and as Kalen aged, he finally came to terms with his defeat.

But that acceptance fueled his obsession.

An obsession to surpass Kyle and Ragnar.

It wasn’t just his desire. His relentless ambition infected the entire Narsio family like a disease.

Driven by the singular goal of eclipsing Ragnar, Kalen pushed not only himself but his beloved children and every member of the Narsio household to their limits.

Every ounce of pain was justified, Kalen told himself, as preparation for that inevitable day of reckoning.

Time flowed like a river, and Kalen eventually stepped down as the Grand Elder of Narsio.

Yet his training never ceased.

Finally, in a simulated duel, Kalen succeeded in facing the legendary blow and countering it.

“It’s done... The time has come.”

Kalen believed it without a shadow of doubt.

The birth of Wellington felt like a divine proclamation of Narsio’s ascension.

He had awaited that day eagerly, convinced it marked the dawn of a new era for their family.

What followed was years of scheming.

Kalen meticulously worked to undermine Ragnar from within, weakening them step by step.

He believed that when Wellington reached his full potential, the day of Narsio’s uprising would finally come.

But then...

"Wellington has become a hero of the North!"

"Wellington... has fallen in battle."

The news struck like a bolt from the blue.

Yet Kalen’s shock wasn’t born from grief over his grandson’s death.

It stemmed from rage toward a tool that had chosen its own path.

Wellington had abandoned Kalen’s design.

A sword that slipped from his grasp.

That fundamental betrayal filled Kalen with fury.

Still, he dismissed it.

It was just a tool.

One lost tool wouldn’t stop the inevitable uprising.

Above all...

"I have already surpassed Kyle... all that remains is to prove it."

With that ironclad belief, Kalen drew his sword.

But then came the devastating report:

"Kyle has ascended."

For a moment, Kalen’s mind went blank.

"That bastard vanished from this world after that one victory?"

The revelation sent a surge of anger through him.

That insignificant victory—hardly even worthy of the name—was enough for Kyle to disappear?

It was as if the universe had branded Kalen as Kyle’s eternal loser.

And yet, before him now stood a boy who claimed to be Kyle’s successor.

"Yes, that smirk."

That mocking expression—it mirrored Kyle’s on that fateful day.

“And you’re not even Kyle!”

“An unworthy replacement dares to mock me!?” Kalen roared.

Gwoooooo—!

The ground cracked and split beneath his feet, while the oppressive force of his wrath made Theo’s skin sting.

“He’s strong.”

Even Theo had to admit it.

A tragic powerhouse, overshadowed by Kyle and Ragnar’s legacy.

Had Kalen been born in any other region, the world’s perception of him would have been far kinder.

“Don’t expect to die easily,” Kalen growled, his face twisted with malice.

But Theo merely smiled.

“Save your concern. I will make an example of you today—proof of the folly of unchecked ambition.”

Shing—

As Theo drew his blade, Kalen’s eyes narrowed.

It was Caliburn, Kyle’s cherished sword—the symbol of Ragnar—now wielded by Theo.

Crack—

The sound of Kalen grinding his teeth filled the air.

In the next instant, both figures vanished.

Clang!

Steel collided with a thunderous crash, and sparks erupted from the impact between their blades.

Around them, wild storms of mana tore through the air, their violent power enough to make even the most seasoned warriors tremble.

“The world has truly underestimated him.”

Now, Theo understood why Kalen was so consumed by inferiority.

Here stood a tragic hero, warped into a monster by his insecurities.

“An old beast.”

After creating some distance with a deft slash, Theo watched as Kalen’s demonic rage slowly ebbed away, his features returning to their usual state.

“Your tongue has its uses, at least,” Kalen remarked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Vwoooom.

His sword began to hum, resonating with a surge of mana.

Then, Kalen took a deep breath.

Narsio Secret Technique: Lion’s Fang.

Flash!

Kalen’s form blurred.

In the blink of an eye, he lunged forward with the ferocity of a lion.

It was the same technique Wellington had once used, though in Kalen’s hands, it was perfected to another level.

The blade’s precision and ferocity were unmatched, carrying a windstorm of mana that could obliterate anything it pierced.

Clang, clang, clang—!

“A true master, no doubt about it.”

Every clash of their blades filled the air with a piercing scream, and the vibrations threatened to rend Theo’s grip apart.

The desperation in Kalen’s strikes was palpable—his overwhelming longing to surpass his rival was laid bare with every blow.

Whoosh!

Caliburn cut through the air, descending in a decisive arc.

Clang!

“That technique...?”

Kalen’s eyes widened.

It was the very same downward slash he’d seen Kyle use—a strike imbued with Ragnar’s domineering essence.

Though imperfect, its form was flawless.

Kalen couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh.

“Still a mere child. Did you truly think an incomplete technique could defeat me?”

The sight of Theo wielding an unfinished version of his rival’s blade filled Kalen with indignation.

The battlefield became a flurry of flashing steel and erupting mana.

To ordinary soldiers, it appeared as nothing more than bursts of light in the air.

But those who had reached the pinnacle of mastery, like Julius and Magnus, could follow their every move.

And Julius found himself smiling.

“He’s taken a few more steps forward. Truly remarkable!”

Magnus felt the same.

Though faint, Theo’s movements bore an uncanny resemblance to a younger Kyle.

But there was a difference.

“He’s becoming more mischievous.”

Julius chuckled as he watched Theo’s gleaming eyes, filled with excitement.