In a fleeting moment, chaos erupts.
Our path to the destination is blocked, Diana insults me, and Tilia Vanguard, who seems to be the family’s eldest, demands compensation, claiming it’s a matter of honor.
The price? All our horses and one coachman’s life.
It’s easy to imagine how tough it’d be for those left behind if we pay that price in the middle of the road.
But Tilia’s mention of a duel turns my annoyance into excitement.
A duel—how thrilling is that?
It cuts straight to human nature.
The winner takes all, the loser loses everything.
Private justice, banned for its harm in the long history of violence.
It started as a simple accident, but talk of honor blew it out of proportion.
I like this way better, though.
In the modern world, accidents mean endless disputes and headaches.
But a rule where the winner is justice? That simplifies things.
The downside? The loser gets scars that don’t heal.
“Fine.”
“Then…”
“Hold up, I’ve got a question.”
I cut Tilia off.
“A question?”
“If we lose, I get what happens. But if you lose? How exactly are you apologizing?”
“Hah!” Diana snorts, jumping in.
“Pathetic. You don’t even know your place…”
“…”
Tilia, with a faint smile, lets Diana ramble.
“Tilia’s ranked fifth in Melbrit! The pride of the Vanguards, knighted as ‘Crimson Flame’! Some random adventurer who hasn’t even taken the entrance exam can’t possibly grasp her greatness.”
Surprising info.
Among top candidates, she’s in the top five?
Definitely not someone I can beat in a fight. So that’s the root of Diana’s reckless confidence—her strong big sister means no one dares mess with her.
“Diana, they’re not pushovers. You need to sharpen your eyes.”
Tilia gently scolds her sister.
“Sis? You saying this guy’s that strong?”
“Not him, but his party’s tough. Not your average enforcer or elf.”
Spot on.
Tilia points out the two strongest in our group, dismissing me and Karen like we’re nothing.
“Decal, you can send your strongest as a stand-in. If I lose, I’ll apologize formally. In the Vanguard name.”
An apology in their name?
How’s that different from a casual “sorry”?
Noticing my frustration, Tilia adds, “While you clean up the scene, we’ll help. Then we go our separate ways. Deal?”
Wait, so they were gonna make us clean up?
I’m speechless, floored by their nerve.
They act like it’s only natural, and I don’t even have the energy to argue.
All our horses and a coachman’s life, and the best apology we get is that?
“Not enough.”
“Not enough? What more do you want beyond a Vanguard apology?”
Tilia genuinely seems clueless, like she can’t imagine what else to offer.
It just shows the massive gap between this world’s nobles and me.
Time to set her straight.
I declare to both, “I’ll take the duel. But your idea of a sincere apology is worthless. You’ll follow my rules.”
Snap!
I flick my fingers, putting Tilia and Diana into a trance.
“Tilia, if you lose the duel, you’ll eagerly meet my demands.”
“Eagerly…”
“This overrides you, your family’s rules. The world of combat is harsh and absolute.”
“…”
Forcing an apology directly is meaningless.
I plan to teach Diana true remorse through this.
No other suggestions needed. Yet.
“Big Bro, Isti, what’s going on? They’re acting weird.”
Karen’s voice trembles, scared.
It’s her first time seeing this, so she’s spooked.
“Oh, this?”
I prep to clap my hands and say, “Hypnosis.”
Clap!
Tilia and Diana, frozen like their souls were snatched, snap back to reality.
“Your rules? How arrogant. We don’t have to follow that.”
The conversation picks up like nothing happened.
“Isti.”
Isti steps forward at my call, ready.
“Can you win?”
“No holding back.”
Isti’s quiet fire burns.
“They messed with my darling. I might kill them.”
“Killing a student’s a bit much.”
Diana, usually cocky, is silenced by Isti’s intensity. She’s finally sensing this is serious.
Isti’s not bluffing.
“I knew you’d step up. Your gaze has been burning me since earlier. Isti, huh? First time hearing it…”
“Don’t forget my name. I might be the one teaching you.”
Tilia’s eyes shift sharply.
The hostility between them swells, creating suffocating tension.
This isn’t just a fistfight anymore.
As no one dares speak, Noah steps between them.
“This isn’t the place. There’s a clearing nearby—let’s move the duel there.”
“Fine. I don’t want our carriage damaged.”
Tilia accepts Noah’s suggestion smoothly.
Noah leads to a clearing off the road.
It’s a sparse plain with short grass, just some rocks scattered around.
Tilia slings her twin swords over her shoulder, stretches her neck, loosens her wrists, and does warm-ups.
Isti, meanwhile, stands still, eyes closed, preparing to summon wind spirits.
We end up watching the standoff from a distance.
The Vanguard servants keep an even greater distance, observing cautiously.
“Decal,” Tilia calls out suddenly.
“Talked to the coachman? Decided whose neck’s on the line?”
“Don’t worry. If the coachman bolts, I’ll offer mine.”
“Pretty bold. I like that.”
No way I’m actually giving up my neck if we lose.
Karen, anxious, says, “Big Bro, what if Isti loses?”
“I’m curious too,” Noah adds. “Decal, why not use hypnosis to weaken the opponent?”
“I trust Isti.”
“I trust her too, but duels are unpredictable. If you die over this, I…”
She’s scared, and that’s normal. Who’d stay calm with their neck on the line?
“…”
Noah stares at me, despite her blindfold.
“Fine, you caught me.”
“I figured you were not being entirely honest. I sense you could’ve handled this smoother.”
“How’d you know?”
“A feeling. You trust Isti, but you’ve got the power to resolve this cleaner.”
“I was just watching until the duel came up.”
In our casual chat, key clues slipped out.
Tilia’s a top-tier fighter at Melbrit, ranked fifth. I don’t get the weight of her “Crimson Flame” title, but fifth is clear enough.
“You just wanna see it play out,” Noah nails my motive.
“I’m from another world. I know you’re strong, but only in theory. I’m heading to Melbrit soon, and I don’t know where my strength stands. This is a rare chance to see something epic.”
I think I’m pretty strong for an adventurer—Gold rank backs that up.
But what about above that? Can I reach higher?
In a world where combat skills matter, I’ve wanted to see this. It’s not something you catch on Y0uTube, so this is a perfect opportunity.
“What if Isti gets hurt? You okay with that?” Noah asks, not accusing, just curious.
Answering might reveal I’m just toying with Isti, not truly loving her.
“She said she’d be a Melbrit teacher. I don’t think she’ll lose to a student.”
“…”
Noah’s expression is unreadable behind her blindfold. But this exchange probably showed her who I am.
“Big Bro, it’s starting!”
Tilia draws her sword.
It’s unique—too long for one hand, too thin for heavy strikes. Compared to Karen’s blunt one-hander, it seems less stable. Only acrobatic swordplay could wield it.
Tilia, lightly gripping the hilt with both hands, legs spread, faces Isti, who stands naturally.
“Draw your weapon. I’ll wait.”
“…”
“What, fighting barehanded? Doesn’t suit you.”
Isti stays silent despite Tilia’s taunt. Her bow appears only when needed, no weapons or arrows carried otherwise. The opponent can’t know that, so the tense standoff continues.
“In elf duels,” Isti finally speaks, “the lesser yields first strike.”
“…”
Tilia blinks, processing, then laughs heartily.
“Didn’t know elves had such courtesy.”
“Go first.”
“I won’t hold back.”
Tilia’s aura shifts.
I notice instantly—she’s summoned a spirit. A red spirit core dances around her, rivaling Isti’s in presence.
Is it the spirit? It feels warm.
“Ugh, it’s quite hot,” Karen says.
“Fire spirit,” Noah explains. “I heard of Crimson Flame, but didn’t expect this level of spirit mastery.”
They feel the heat more than I do.
Tilia’s sword ignites, blazing red like her title. The sight could crush anyone’s will.
I tried something like that in a dungeon with Karen’s sword but gave up. Not sure if it’s Fire Enchant, but Tilia holds the flaming blade unfazed.
“Here I come!”
Tilia kicks the ground, gliding forward, closing the gap with Isti in a flash. Her speed’s unreal. She swings, flames trailing her sword, engulfing Isti.
Isti steps back, dodging the blade, her wind spirit snuffing the flames. Calm, precise.
Tilia presses, swinging as she advances. Isti retreats just enough to evade, the raging flames never touching her.
“Wow, Big Bro, ever seen spirit mastery like this?”
Karen’s gripped, sweating, watching.
We’ve trained with Isti, so we can sense spirits.
Beyond their physical clash, the spirits’ movements are lively.
Tilia’s spirit unleashes wild flames; Isti’s wind spirit deftly deflects them.
It looks like Tilia’s dominating with her sword, but…
“Feels like a spirit duel. What do you think, Noah?”
“Same. Their spirit mastery’s equal, but Isti’s efficiency stands out. No waste.”
“Equal?”
To me, Isti’s toying with her.
As I watch, things shift.
Flames start piercing Isti’s wind barrier. She frowns slightly, feeling the heat.
“No time to play around,” Tilia smirks.
Suddenly, flames surge, swallowing Tilia.
Gone? No—she reappears behind Isti, flaming sword slashing. Isti raises a barrier, deflects, and leaps back, widening the gap.
“Now…!”
Tilia crouches, swinging wide despite the distance.
Flames erupt from the ground like a wave, sweeping over Isti.
“Isti!” Karen cries desperately.
It was a fierce attack, but the flames pass, revealing nothing.
Space Leap.
Isti reappears in a favorable spot, while Tilia dodges an arrow mid-air.
“…”
Isti holds a bow.
I saw the leap, but when did she shoot?
Tilia’s reaction is also unreal.
Despite the flames, Isti’s cl0thes and skin are unscathed.
Like playing an instrument, Isti flicks her empty right hand, conjuring translucent arrows—one, two, three, four—nocking them.
As Tilia regains balance, four arrows fly from Isti’s bow at once.