A series of turns led him into a more open stretch near the rear of the palace.
The carefully arranged flowerbeds thinned out, reduced to neat clusters lining the stone walkways, while the empty space between them was claimed instead by tall, broad-canopied trees.
The air felt less curated here—less about display and more about space—with the passing breeze carrying the scent of sweat mixed with a faint metallic tang.
Clang!
A strange, high-pitched sound reached his ears, startling him from his reverie.
Too curious to turn away, Thorsten followed the sound to an open stone arena, where two familiar figures stood motionless—so still that even the nearby trees seemed to hold their breath at the sight of their stand-off.
Thorsten couldn't help but curse his luck—he had just gone from being lost to the spectator of a duel between his father, Ferzen, and brother Leon.
He considered turning around, but the sight before him was far too captivating to turn his attention from.
A small, crocked smile crept its way on his face as he threw away that thought to focus on the two facing each other. And as much as he would like to slip away unnoticed, this was his chance to witness the magic used by physical fighters in this world.
The noise that had led him here was a result of one such exchange, and hopefully, not their last.
"Again."
His—Thorstens—father spoke in a deep, commanding tone to Leon as he took his stance.
Leon didn't respond, instead, adjusting his own stance to match his fathers.
Fwoo.
He let out a deep, controlled breath, adjusted his grip on his sword, then closed the distance between them with three measured strides to strike at Ferzen's left side.
Ferzen deflected the strike with a fluid movement that was meant to use his own power against him, but Leon recovered fast as not to leave an opening.
His next set of strikes were aimed at taking advantage of the natural openings in the Ferzen's defensive stance.
Leon sidestepped a horizontal slash and lunged for his father's right side, only for the strike to be effortlessly countered as his father rotated his torso away. The blow cut through empty air, leaving Leon open to a potential counterattack.
He used his next opening to direct a shallow lunge at Fersen's exposed thigh, which was parried, then followed by a return thrust aimed at Leon's shoulder.
Leon then attempted a small feint—only to have his plans disrupted because Ferzen met his probing strike with a force strong enough to rattle the bones in his arms.
Huff.
Sensing that his father's previous strike had put him at a disadvantage, Leon stepped away and released a pained breath through grit teeth. Showing weakness to an opponent would only put him at a disadvantage, this was one of the first things his father had taught him.
Leon's eyes narrowed in on his father's form as all their prior exchanges replayed in his head.
'Think me, think...'
Leon's eyes narrowed in on his father's form, taking in its structure as his all their prior exchanges replayed in his head.
All his heavy strikes were met with fluid motion, while his fluid strikes were being countered with heavy strikes. No matter which angel he used to attack, all of them were read and countered.
But there was definitely something he was still missing—he just didn't know what yet.
"Again." Ferzen's voice barely reached him amidst his racing thoughts.
Fwoo.
He took another breath to compose himself and quickly set decided on a counterattack; create a situation where his attacks couldn't be countered.
Leon stepped in again, closing the distance to feint at his father leading leg.
The strike was countered with an overwhelming upward strike, but instead of trying to power through, he used that same momentum to bring his blade around for an upward slash.
His timing was a bit off due to the power used, but he was still able to graze his father's shirt with his counter. And instead of using that to gain momentum, he stepped away to gauge his opponent's reaction.
Ferzen silently fixed his stance and calmly repeated the only words he had said between their dozens of exchanges.
"Again."
That word was spoken in the same indifferent voice, but there was a small, nearly imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. One so minute that it would only appear to those seeing his side profile.
Leon was so focused that he barely registered his tongue hanging slack from his mouth, each breath doing nothing to correct the undignified sight. It was an image unbefitting of the heir of the Baylith family.
Fwoo.
He released another deep breath and adjusted the dulled longsword in his hands.
A rough outline formed in his head, sharpening his awareness just enough for him to pull his tongue back where it belonged—lest he bite it off in the middle of a swing.
All that remained was to see whether his reading was good enough to force an opening.
With that in mind, Leon once again closed the distance between them with his blades path already started towards his opponents left side.
Ferzen's sword moved to parry, but Leon's blade met it with far less resistance than expected.
For the briefest instant, Ferzen's balance slipped.
Leon seized it.
He rotated his wrists, rolling his grip to let his sword slip past the parry, then brought it down in a sharp, descending strike aimed at his father's shoulder.
Kunk.
Steel met steel as Ferzen caught the blow on his cross guard. The dull impact jolted up Leon's arms, stealing his breath for a heartbeat—but he pressed on, driving forward before the opening could vanish.
He never saw it, but he did hear it.
It happened in the gap where Leon's vision was momentarily obscured by his own arm: Ferzen's leading foot struck the stone with controlled force. The ground beneath it cracked, spiderwebbing outward as he re-cantered his weight without losing an inch of ground.
Leon felt pressure immediately.
Though he was meant to be on the offensive, Ferzen's counters came fast and precise, each one threatening to overwhelm him if he faltered even slightly.
Then— 'There.'
Leon took half a step back and lowered his centre of gravity.
His breathing steadied with his focus narrowed in on a single opening.
And when he thrust—
Mana flared.
A pale blue-silver light burst from his tensed muscles, flashing along his arms and shoulders as something gave inside him. Strength flooded his limbs, his body responding as though invisible restraints had been torn away.
The blade shot forward, aimed cleanly at his father's exposed neck.
From the edge of the path, Thorsten stood frozen in awe of the two before him.
There were no exaggerated swings, no dramatic pauses—nothing like the choreographed duels he had seen in movies. What he saw instead was raw, unbroken intent: motion sharpened into something lethal, beautiful in its simplicity.
This wasn't a spectacle for entertainment; just pure, undiluted duel between two trained fighters.
Ferzen deflected the thrust with a single, fluid motion—one arm still held behind his back. The impact sent Leon stumbling, his feet skidding across the stone as he fought to regain his balance.
He caught himself on the fifth step, turned sharply on his heel, and charged in again—chasing the rush he had just experienced.