Jacke caught the sword off the air and threw it to the ground before pointing a finger at John. “You’ve insulted me for the last time in your miserable life. I demand a duel to the death. Now let go of me!” He kept on struggling until, finally, his collar ripped open with a tear and he was free from Marleya’s grasp.

“You can’t have a duel to the death,” Marleya said, grabbing him by the shoulder this time.

“I’m a noble, and I can challenge anyone I want,” Jacke continued to struggle, his face fuming. “Even if you’re a Paladin, you cannot stop it, these are the rules according to the code of chivalry.”

A deep frown formed on Marleya’s face and she finally loosened her grip. “Very well then. My lord is indeed correct that he has the right to challenge who he wants. But John, as the challenged party, is the one who chooses the duel method, and he won’t accept a duel to the death.” She stared him dead in the eye. “Will you, John?”

“Definetely not,” he answered obediently. Marleya did not look happy, so he figured that going against her wouldn’t be the smart move. Besides, an actual duel to the death against a noble would probably end badly for John no matter the victor. He asked for Neina’s help to undo the buckles of his cuirass and remove it. The gambeson was easier to take off and he could do it by himself, leaving it on the ground beside the cuirass.

“Good, the duel will be until first blood then. I’ll provide the weapons.”

“No need, I already have my own.” Jacke motioned to one of his bodyguards, the same one who hinted at a smirk previously, and she presented an ornate scabbard. He took hold of the hilt and drew it to reveal a pristine sword fully covered in gold. “This is my weapon. Present yours, savage.”

If past experiences were anything to go by, John figured that the training sword would already be enough to beat that fool, but he didn’t want to take any chances. His longsword remained back at his bedroom as he rarely ever used it at the training grounds, same for the short swords. He glanced at Marleya and the knight immediately caught his meaning.

Her own sword was still too heavy for him to wield in combat, while everyone else on the training grounds wielded dulled, training swords. So instead, she looked up at the battlements and yelled out to one of the guards who had stopped to watch the commotion. “You! Yes, you. Lend me your sword.”

The man didn’t try to argue and did as told, quickly unbuckling his sword belt and tossing it down to Marleya, who easily caught it.

Marleya drew the sword from its sheath, revealing a bluish-white blade. With her gauntlets on, she then held the rippled steel sword by the blade and pointed its hilt to John. With both duelists armed, she stepped away followed by Neina and the female bodyguards.

Jacke held the gilded sword his side, a confident look on his face. “It’s high time for someone to teach you a lesson, half-bred. Make your move.”

John held the borrowed weapon in front of his body with both hands. “Ladies first.”

With a scoff, Jacke stepped forward, still holding the sword to the side. Even with the man’s amateur posture, John would still need to be careful. If he was still a Fighter that is. When he finally came into striking distance from John, Jacke raised his sword up high and swung it down, aiming for his face.

Just like with his posture, the attack was completely amateur-like, coming without any strength besides having been telegraphed from miles away. John knew that the man was lacking when it came to fighting, but something like this could only be explained by him underestimating John. It was time to show him the error of his ways.

John sidestepped to the right, easily avoiding the attack. He then released one hand from the sword, using it to punch Jacke straight in the mouth.

Caught completely off guard, the noble fell to the ground. He didn’t bleed, though, and for once, John wished to be wearing a heavy gauntlet. “H-How?” he asked, somewhat dazed.

“I advanced a couple of months ago,” John said with a sneer. “You’re now looking at a Crusader.” With that, he stepped back, giving Jacke room to get back to his feet. The last and only time the two of them dueled, John struck Jacke while he was down, warranting a punishment from Marleya and achieving nothing besides giving the fool an excuse for his defeat.

This time, John would win fair and square. Maybe then Jacke would stop being a nuisance, though he doubted it.

Jacke stood up again and assumed a proper stance, any trace of cockiness disappearing from his face. “You may have advanced, but I’m still going to win.” The gilded sword gleamed in the sunlight as he advanced with another downward swing, better than before but still somewhat slow.

John slashed against the coming blade, parrying it to the side. This time, though, Jacke didn’t leave a gap in his defenses for long, quickly bringing his blade back for a stab that passed dangerously close to John’s arm. So he wasn’t completely useless after all.

After the initial clash, Jacke tried to press his advantage. John reacted with a flurry of stabs, forcing him back. Jacke started to sweat. His blade continued to be slower than John’s, and now it no longer looked as pristine as before, sporting various scratch marks as well as few nicks. That shouldn’t be the case. No steel would deteriorate that fast.

That’s when it occurred to John. Maybe the sword wasn’t made of steel. He had assumed it to be the case because, well, steel was the superior material to make weapons, be it regular, rippled, or even whatever steel Marleya’s sword was made of. Iron, copper, or even bronze were rarely used in this world. As such, no one should be stupid enough to use anything else.

But if Jacke’s weapon wasn’t made of steel covered in gold, then what was it made of? The answer came almost instantly. Pure gold. Gold weighed much more than even regular steel, so that would explain why Jacke’s attacks seemed so sluggish.

Hoping to test his theory, John raised his sword up high, bringing it down with all of his force. The impact reverberated through his arms as Jacke awkwardly managed to block it. Rather than pressing on, John stepped back to study the golden sword. Right where he hit, it now displayed a deep gouge, almost halfway into the edge.

Despite being heavy, gold was also much softer than steel, another reason why using it for a sword was a terrible idea.

And so, while John had been training nonstop for years for a chance of enrolling at Phoenix Academy, this imbecile who used a sword made of gold managed to get in for the simple fact of being a noble.

John moved in again, this time set on ending this ridiculous duel. He stabbed high, low, and slashed sideways, forcing Jacke to stay on the back foot as he tried to defend himself. He put the right foot forward, slashing down before bringing the blade back for an upwards swing.

The blow threw Jacke’s arms up into the air, and he barely managed to hold onto his weapon. Not that it mattered though, as his torso was now completely exposed.

John pointed the blade at his stomach and stabbed. Someone called his name, telling him to stop, but he ignored it. The blade pierced flesh, slowed down, and came to a stop after protruding from the other side.

For a moment Jacke stood frozen in place, seemingly not quite understanding what had just happened. The next moment, a look of shock and incredulity took over his face. His grip loosened and the gold sword slipped from his hands, clanging loudly on the ground. He followed next, falling to his knees and threatening to tip forward.

Marleya arrived the next second, putting a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from falling. “Go find a healer!” she ordered to no one in particular. With her other hand, she prevented Jacke from pulling out the sword from his stomach. “Leave it there and stay still, else you’ll bleed out faster.”

John looked around. Everyone showed looks of concern, and some of the guards had already taken off running in search of help. Strangely enough, he felt calm. Causing such a wound to a noble should have made him apprehensive at the repercussions, no matter what that code of chivalry said. And yet, he didn’t feel any worry.

Maybe it was the certainty that there was no way for Jacke to die here in the castle with so many people around to help. Maybe it was the knowledge that, whatever happened, Athalia would protect him. Or maybe he simply didn’t care if a waste of life such as Jacke lived or died.

“What is going on?” From the castle, Athalia came running towards the commotion. “By Alella,” she exclaimed as soon as she laid eyes upon Jacke and the sword sticking out from him.

She immediately rushed in and knelt by his side, not caring about soiling her dress. With one hand up high, she pulled in whatever water there was to find in the vicinity. A wooden pitcher atop the battlements toppled down as the water inside it flew away. A waterskin attached to a guard’s hip ripped open. Even the drops of sweat on John’s forehead were pulled away.

A large blob of water quickly formed, floating inches above Athalia’s palm. “Hold him tight,” she told Marleya before gripping the sword and pulling it free with a single yank.

Jacke screamed in pain, his eyes rolled back in his skull and he lost conscience, only remaining in place thanks to Marleya.

Athalia willed it and the large blob of water flew in rivets towards the wound at the front and at the back, working to close both injuries.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and it didn’t escape John’s notice how much longer it was taking to completely heal it. Every instance where he got healing from her went by much more quickly. He doubted that Athalia would intentionally botch the healing, no matter how much she also despised the arrogant noble, so he’d have to ask her about it later.

As time went on, droplets of water extricated themselves from the larger blobs and dripped to the ground. Athalia continued her healing, seemingly not noticing or, more likely, not caring about it. Finally, when the amount of water pressed against both wounds had diminished to almost half, she let out a sigh of relief and canceled her spell, causing the rest of the water to splash down to the ground.

“It’s fine for now, but he’ll need another longer session to heal completely.” She stood up from the ground. “In the meantime, I want to know what just happened here.”