" Prep the men for battle, I'll still try to goad the Baron to face me in single combat. " Maximilian said and rode off to meet Baron Eppes.
" Someone approaches my Lord. " A knight announced.
Maximilian could be seen riding towards them his armor indistinguishable from his other soldiers save for his helmet that had the featherd plume.
His weapon was quite different from that of his army , he weilded dual Chokuto, a predecessor of the katana that had a straight edge instead of the curved edge of the katana.
One of it was strapped to his back while he held one in hs hand.
He stopped few meters from the enemy line. Baron Eppes rode out with two armoured knights flanking him.
" Ho , if it isn't the bastard of Caligula. I didn't imagine that you would be brave enough to come face me without any backup. " Baron Eppes spoke with venom dripping from his voice.
" You owe a debt my Lord, and I have come to collect, in gold or in blood. " Maximilian replied.
" There is no need for your men to suffer for the foolishness of their Lord, draw your weapon and let us end this one on one. "
There was immediate tension between the two, Baron Eppes could choose to not engage in the duel and be labeled a coward who ran away from a fight, that is if such things were important to him.
Both men took their positions and drew their weapons.
The Baron had a longsword that didn't look like it was made out of steel . It had a blue-ish grey hue . Perhaps a steel and mythril alloy.
Max couldn't feel a trace of an inscription or enchantment from the blades.
But despite Max having an unusual large mana pool, the Baron had more experience than him.
The long, tense moment of silence snapped like a dry twig.
Baron Eppes moved first, his heavy mythril-alloy longsword leaving its sheath with a deep, resonant shing that sounded like stone grinding on metal. He held the blade in a two-handed combat stance, its silver-black mass seeming to draw the light into its surface. It was a weapon of raw, overbearing power.
Lord Maximilian Scorpia's movements were fluid, disciplined, and utterly silent. He drew his dual steel Chokutos—two thin, straight, single-edged blades—in a single, graceful cross-draw. They emerged like twin streaks of cold silver, settling instantly into a perfect, balanced, reverse-guard position. His posture was that of a man executing a flawless, necessary protocol.
Eppes sneered, dropping into his fighting stance, his feet shifting to root him to the very earth. "Come, boy. You stand on my ground. I will end this farce quickly."
"Negative, Baron," Maximilian replied, his voice calm, clipped, and devoid of emotion. "You're standing in my kill zone."
The air was thick with the scent of pulverized stone and iron. Baron Eppes, a mountain of mythril-steel and earth-magic, was a devastating force.
"You're a boy, Scorpia!" Eppes roared, his voice a gravelly echo of the earth he commanded. "A mere whelp, a bastard trinket of Duke Alexander Caligula! Your shadow is stained by the birth that killed your whore of a mother! You have no noble blood, no birthright! You are nothing!"
Maximilian's focus tightened into a lethal point. Eppes didn't see the tactical discipline honed by years of absolute command; he only saw a young noble's desperation. Maximilian's heart hammered, but his discipline was absolute. His dual steel Chokutos were a frantic, shimmering blur, deflecting the heavy, silver-black arc of the Baron's longsword with sharp, grating shings.
He's committed. He's predictable. Exploit the window.
Eppes stamped his boot. The floor ripped open beneath Maximilian's heels, three jagged spikes of dark stone erupting skyward. Maximilian vaulted backward, landing in a low crouch, the sudden strain wrenching the deep ache from his bruised ribs.
He didn't hesitate. He thrust forward, weaving under the Baron's next devastating strike. His right Chokuto slashed out, aiming for the Baron's thigh. The blade met the steel plate of the leg armor. It didn't clank. It bit deep, a high-pitched, tearing screech of enchanted steel shearing through metal.
The Baron's roar turned to a gasp of surprise and pain. His armor, designed to resist siege weapons, was suddenly compromised. "What… what are those blades?"
"They're not a birthright, Baron," Maximilian gritted out, his voice low and laced with cold disdain. "They're a weapon. I made them my own."
Eppes drove his armored elbow back, catching Maximilian in the ribs and sending him stumbling. The pain was blinding. He dropped one sword and pressed his free hand to the wound. A gentle, steady emerald light spilled from his palm. The sharp pain subsided instantly, his fractured bones knitting back together.
Sustained damage. Resource expenditure high. Immediate disengagement required.
Eppes had gained distance and slammed the pommel of his longsword into the ground. A wide, low wall of rock, thick and rough, slammed into existence, bisecting the chamber.
Maximilian didn't hesitate. He was already running toward the obstruction, his tactical mind seeing not a wall, but a fixed point to breach. He drove the tips of his Chokutos at the dense, conjured rock itself.
He poured his focused will into the blades. The emerald glow around his hand intensified, running down his arms and spilling along the length of the straight steel. His swords began to hum, vibrating with contained, furious energy.
Maximilian drove them forward. The two Chokutos didn't chip the rock; they sheared through the magical barrier as if it were soft, dark clay. A sound like tearing metal and frying energy filled the room.
He exploded through the gap, shattering the Baron's earth-barrier and lunging into the open.
Eppes had circled the obstruction and was completely exposed, frozen in disbelief. His focus—his command over the earth—was broken by the impossible destruction of his defense.
Maximilian was a blinding blur. He moved with the precision of a trained operative executing a mission objective. He sliced his left Chokuto low, the straight blade sinking and pulling across the Baron's exposed hamstrings. Before the Baron could even feel the pain, the right Chokuto followed, striking and cutting across both ankles, severing tendons and bone.
The Baron's connection to the earth, the source of his might, was violently severed. The massive, mythril-clad form of Eppes swayed, his longsword clanging uselessly onto the floor. His earth magic failed utterly, a guttural cry of agony tearing from his throat.
He collapsed, a heavy, catastrophic fall that shook the chamber. His legs, now useless and bleeding profusely, lay beneath him.
Maximilian stood over him, his chest heaving, his Chokutos still vibrating slightly with the last dregs of his infused magic. The emerald glow faded.
"You relied on title and mass," Maximilian said, his voice flat, exhausted, and lethal. "I relied on tactics and a breach of primary defenses. Engagement terminated, Baron."
Baron Eppes glared up, his eyes wide with disbelief and shattered pride, his immense form utterly defeated, unable to move or fight. The bastard son of Duke Caligula had won.