Chapter 416 - 282: Two Dead Ends (2)

Was it fear? No. It was rage.

Alvin watched from the side, the smirk on his face growing more pronounced.

Altan's gaze was instantly as sharp as two blades, piercing Baron Chase and Charles.

His fists clenched unconsciously, knuckles turning white. His body leaned slightly forward, as if he were about to pounce at any moment.

The arrogant face of Henry flashed in his mind. 'Everything I had was destroyed by Henry and his family.'

"You…" Altan's voice trembled, but it was more from rage and hatred.

"I will not forget your family's name."

His eyes were filled with killing intent, as if he wanted to devour Baron Chase and Charles right where they stood. He tried to force himself to remain calm, but his body trembled uncontrollably—it was a tremor born of burning rage and a surging, suppressed desire for revenge.

'Damn it, if I can't get Henry, you think I can't get you?'

Charles felt uncomfortable under Altan's gaze. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes sweeping over Altan before his lips curled into a disdainful smirk. "Count Altan, your attire… Tsk, tsk. So many wrinkles in your clothes, and you're giving off a certain… indescribable smell. You're a true disgrace to our noble class."

The surrounding nobles roared with laughter. Alvin's lips quirked upward, but he remained silent.

Altan gritted his teeth, his face flushing red. He was a man who prided himself on his cleanliness and reputation above all else…

The laughter of the other nobles was piercing, yet he couldn't refute them… He was, after all, just a wandering noble.

Altan snorted coldly, his eyes filled with contempt. "Charles, you are merely the scion of a noble, not a true nobleman yourself.

A noble's honor isn't defined by lavish clothes and a refined appearance, but by the bearing and integrity in one's bones. What would someone like you, who only knows how to mock others, possibly know about a noble's honor?"

The crowd stopped laughing and turned to look at Charles.

Charles's expression turned ugly in an instant. "Count Altan, don't you forget that you've lost your fief and are now just a wandering noble. What right do you have to spout such insolence here?

Everyone here is one of the Powerful Nobility. Even the second-rank nobles and their heirs are more honorable than a stray dog like you."

Altan's eyes glinted, and a mocking smile touched his lips. "Charles, do you really think you're so great? You're nothing but a grown-up baby…

If your brother Henry were here, I would treat him as a worthy opponent. You, on the other hand, are not even worthy of standing in the same place as me."

"You…"

Charles was so angry his face turned beet red. He pointed at Altan and said furiously, "Altan, you've gone too far! I'm not going to let this go!"

Altan snorted, his gaze as sharp as a knife. "Charles, if you have the guts, then duel me! I'd love to see just how capable you, the scion of a noble, Count Henry's older brother, truly are!"

Charles's face was ashen. Rage had clouded his mind. Altan's words had struck precisely where he was most vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth. "Fine! Altan, I accept your duel! I'll show you who the true noble is!"

Baron Chase opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just sighed, shook his head, and remained silent.

He knew Charles's temper; once his mind was made up, it was nearly impossible to dissuade him.

Meanwhile, Count Alvin smiled faintly from the sidelines, a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

He was delighted to see this unfold. Stepping forward, he announced loudly, "Since you both agree to a duel, I shall serve as witness and referee!"

Charles and Altan immediately began to don their armor with the help of their respective men.

Charles's men worked quickly, fitting him with an exquisite suit of silver armor engraved with his family's solemn and majestic crest.

Charles equipped his family's longsword, its gem-encrusted hilt glittering dazzlingly in the sunlight.

He adjusted his helmet, took a deep breath, and his gaze turned resolute.

Altan's men were a bit rougher. They helped him into a suit of heavy leather armor, which, while not as exquisite as Charles's silver plate, was far more sturdy and durable.

At Altan's waist hung a scimitar, the weapon he favored on the grasslands, its blade incomparably sharp.

He put on a noble's steel helm and gave a slight nod, signaling for his men to withdraw.

The surrounding nobles, who had just been singing, dancing, and drinking, swarmed over when they heard news of the duel.

They formed a thick crowd around the dueling ground, three-deep in every direction. Each and every one of them craned their necks, eyes wide, afraid of missing a single detail. After all, only a fool would pass up such a spectacle.

"Charles, are you sure you want to duel me?" Altan stood in the center of the grounds, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

Charles snorted, tightening his grip on his longsword. "Altan, don't think I'll show you mercy like Henry might have. Today, I'm going to make you understand who the true noble is!"

"Hmph. You?" Altan smiled faintly, gently twirling the scimitar in his hand, which made a crisp, ringing sound.

"Charles, your brother Henry earned his stripes on the battlefield. You, however, are just a child who has yet to grow up."

The surrounding nobles began to murmur amongst themselves. Some supported Charles, believing that even though he wasn't Henry, as the eldest son of the Chase family, his strength couldn't be underestimated.

"Charles may be no Henry, but he's still a Chase," they said. "Perhaps he'll be the one to teach Altan a lesson."

Others, however, favored Altan. After all, he was a noble from an old line, in the prime of his life, and a barbarian from the grasslands to boot. His physique and combat experience were both outstanding.

"Altan is from the grasslands, after all," they said. "People from those parts are much fiercer fighters than your average noble. I'm afraid Charles is in for a world of hurt."

Count Alvin stood to the side, a faint smile on his lips as his gaze swept back and forth between the two men. He knew that no matter the outcome, this duel would bring him considerable benefits.

A sharp glint flashed in Count Alvin's eyes. He adjusted his stance slightly, clasping his hands behind his back in the picture of a fair referee, but the curve of his lips betrayed his inner schadenfreude.

'No matter the outcome, I stand to profit.'

Count Alvin calculated silently, yet his face remained serious as he announced, "The duel is about to begin. Both parties, please prepare. This duel is to uphold the honor of the nobility. I hope you both give it your all, but also exercise restraint and take care not to harm any innocents."

As soon as he spoke, the surrounding nobles fell silent, their gazes locked on the two men in the center of the grounds.

Altan and Charles stared at each other, and the atmosphere instantly grew taut with tension.

Charles moved first. He tightened his grip on his longsword, crouched slightly, then lunged forward in a sudden sprint.

His movements were clean and efficient, a clear sign of rigorous training.

Under the sun, the gem-encrusted longsword flashed with a cold light, aimed straight for Altan's chest.

Altan, however, was not the least bit flustered. He leaned to the side, nimbly dodging Charles's attack, and simultaneously swung his scimitar in a vicious arc, the blade whistling toward Charles's side.

CLANG! A crisp metallic ring echoed as Charles's longsword managed to block Altan's scimitar, but the immense force of the blow still made him stagger slightly.

The surrounding nobles let out a collective gasp. Someone couldn't help but shout, "As expected of someone from the grasslands! Altan's skill is truly extraordinary!"

"Hmph, Charles is no weakling either. He's the eldest son of the Chase family, after all, and has been training since childhood," others retorted.

Count Alvin stood to the side, his gaze fixed on the two duelists, the smile on his face growing ever more pronounced.

'The outcome of this duel is no longer important,' he thought. 'What matters is that I stand to benefit regardless of who wins or loses.'