,,¡III ǝlᴉssᴉW ɔᴉƃɐW,,

Walter's mana-infused voice echoed loudly enough to reach the women inside the house. Soon after, the distinctive crack of his spell mixed with the clash of metal, and a shout of surprise.

The little hairs on Elin's nape stood. "Walter!"

She bounded across the house and climbed dozens of stairs in several steps. It required two intolerable seconds to reach their bedroom, grab her sword on the bed, turn out of the bedroom, and leap down the stairs.

Her heart choked her throat.

After she slammed the front door open, Elin yelled, "Walter--" The words, "What is the meaning of this?" spilled out of her mouth right after.

Nobody told me the squire was the wizard!

The six impacts reverberated on his shield, one after the next, like being struck by a minotaur's flail. Every strike shoved Sir Eugene away, his heels digging long trenches.

His expectation, Sir Walter suffering feedback damage from Magic Missile, went unmet. Sir Walter stood, unmarked by magic or injury. The spell surprised Sir Eugene, but, during his defense, he intended to spring forward and counterattack. That hope died.

Without my 'Eye of Wisdom,' I would have lost the duel, already.

The Magic Missiles, balls of light the size of baseballs, aimed at his limbs and torso. The passive boost to his reflexes from the Eye of Wisdom helped him move the shield into the necessary positions. Rarely did the situation require him to use it defensively, instead of piercing a weakness. Maintaining it drained him, so he used it sparingly. Sir Eugene blinked, and the pale orb of his left eye returned to normal.

From abilities to philosophy, Odinic templars diametrically opposed Gaiatic paladins. Paladins staunchly defended; templars zealously routed. This attitude permeated down to their equipment. Legends explained the natural fierceness of the Odinic templar inspired the rise of the rangers.

His decisive attitude brought him to this destination.

Capital assignments were an enjoyable luxury he wanted to escape. I didn't earn three points on my antlers to grow fat around whores! Parading the capitol during the day, and reveling at night, did not slay monsters, nor did it earn glory. He wanted out. His talent for slaying prevented him from returning to the battle. Some paladins called it an honor guard, he called it weak. It was womanly. Send me home to the battlefield already.

When the first letter arrived, requesting the arrangement, he ripped it to shreds and shoved it inside a Disciple of Venus's cleavage. Marriage restricted him further. If he wanted children, then he'd have bastard kids, and leave coin for the woman. If they wanted a father, then they could read about him. He pissed on the second letter and mailed it back. You noble fucks, punish me and send me to war, I dare you. He doubted they would, but it was worth the shot.

The third letter caught him off-guard. Simple block print centered on the unscented page. 'Do this, and then you may do as you like.' So, with a wicked grin, Sir Eugene resolved to sire a child and then returned to what he loved.

I should have known it was a setup.

An Odinic templar's shield lacked the full-metal construction of his paladin counterparts, on purpose. A thin metal stretched over wood. He needed the lightness to strike fast and hard. More than one man died, unarmed, because their sword wedged into the roundshield. When broken, then he'd kill an enemy and take theirs. On the last two impacts, Sir Eugene rolled his arm to absorb it, to prevent the shield from splintering outright.

Fucking ridiculous, my arm is already throbbing. Well, it's been a while since I had a good fight--but of course, the paladin is interfering.

"Walter, what is the meaning of this?"

The two men stared at each other. Despite his lady yanking his arm and demanding answers, Sir Walter maintained his wariness. Her language was personal and not aristocratic. No doubt, they're together. Well, I don't care. I need to soak my wick, and I can't while he's blocking.

Sir Eugene bellowed, "He challenged me to an adventurer's duel, Lady Elin, do not interfere!"

"No, I won't allow it!" she said, "Walter, this is over! Pick up your adventurer's tag, now!"

Sir Eugene began with, "Listen here, you insufferable--"

,,¡ǝlᴉssᴉW ɔᴉƃɐW,,

The words failed to finish. Light ignited in Sir Eugene's face. A moment later, he realized he could feel the circulating breeze around his ears. After shaking away the concussing buzz in his mind, Sir Eugene noticed his helmet, with its cherished three-point antlers, stuck into the snow.

He growled and gnashed his teeth, "Alright, knave. You want rough? Let's play rough!"

,,¡ɹᴉuƃunפ,,

Sir Eugene rocked to his back heel, held overhead his spear, and, like an Olympic javelin thrower, hurled it. The moment it left his hand, it glowed and accelerated.

"Walter!" Lady Elin said, "Get behind me! 'Gungnir' is like 'Magic Missile,' it doesn't miss--"

He's a squire, and you're the hero! Why are you sacrificing your life for him?

As if swatting a fly from the air, Walter waved his hand. Another light struck the spear. The tip dived into the ground, letting loose the sound of a dozen plows ripping the earth. It barely flew beyond his reach. The most Sir Eugene mustered was staring while errant snow and clumps of dirt plopped back down.

He didn't incant his spell the last time. How is this possible?

"Seems it misses after all," Walter curled his lip, "Now would be a good time for you to yield."

Yield? I'm not trying to return to battle by running from fights! Unfortunately, I'm at a severe disadvantage.

,,˙II ǝlᴉssᴉW ɔᴉƃɐW,,

Sir Eugene bent his knees and braced his shield. It might break after this volley, but, considering Sir Walter downgraded his spell from tier three to tier two, he might be short on mana. No impact arrived.

"What bullshit," Sir Eugene muttered after a peek.

The four orbs hovered above Sir Walter in an arc, and it seemed it required little concentration.

That's how he blocked my spear. Each tier produced two missiles, and I wrongly assumed the first tier produced only one, instead of two. All he had to do was hold it in reserve and use it appropriately.

Closing the distance proved risky, now. The reserved missiles waited like notched arrows in a drawn bow. Sir Walter's spellcasting channeled quickly, as is, but now they could shoot in an instant.

I'll need to use my last ability for--

,,˙III ǝlᴉssᴉW ɔᴉƃɐW,,

Sir Eugene dropped all pretense and dived for cover, scrambled over snow, and looped around trees. Bark exploded near his head. The last orb, held until he lost his balance, streaked in. Sir Eugene's shield shattered to protect him. After six pops, Sir Eugene looked up to see the original four orbs still floating near Sir Walter.

Mages needed time to incant, and he never imagined two spells active simultaneously, let alone employed with a range of versatility. Whatever Sir Walter planned involved taking him apart slowly. From the beginning, the wizard opted not to pummel him into tenderized meat, and Sir Eugene saw that now. For a man pissed about his lady being insulted, Sir Walter is being thoroughly strategic.

How fucking unfair.

I have to get back to the fight! I have to!

"No choice, huh?"

,,¡ʞɹǝsǝq,,

"Walter, run!" Elin said, "Protect Priestess Evelyn, I'll handle--"

"It's a duel," Walter said, "I got it."

Sir Eugene's face twisted, and he bared his teeth like a wolf. Beserk was the counterpart to a paladin's 'Lay on Hands,' though intended to help shed blood, not prevent it. Their ability submerged their minds into the glee of battle and enhanced their bodies. Unleashing a berserker turned a man into a fearsome opponent. Allies kept a wide berth.

"Please! Fall back to the house! He's used a skill called Beserk! He regenerates, and, like the skill's name--"

"I know what it does." Walter kept his eyes glued on Sir Eugene.

That's right. Walter's a visitor to this world, and he has knowledge of magic. It's easy to forget since he seems so lost with the basic day-to-day things.

"Then--" Elin sucked in a breath, "I will trust you. Please do not allow yourself harm."

"Don't worry, it's already over."

,,˙Λ ǝlᴉssᴉW ɔᴉƃɐW,,

One after another, like a rolling drum, impacts rained down on Sir Eugene, pushed him into a tree, and the gathering momentum forced him to slide opposite of gravity. Blood coughed from his mouth. After the tenth orb, Walter dropped his hand like a command to fire. The four reserved orbs synchronized, struck Sir Eugene, and the tree behind him splintered through the core. The resulting sound shook the nearby branches, and falling snow piled up while Sir Eugene panted, unconscious.