Duel of the Fangs

The hall, once filled with laughter and clinking glasses, had fallen into a heavy silence. All eyes were on the center of the arena, where Noah’s blade clashed against the First King’s clone. The nine other participants had been brushed aside like children swinging sticks, their bravado crumbling the moment the clone unsheathed his sword.

But Noah had not moved from his place. He stood tall, calm, and utterly focused.

The clone advanced, its steps echoing like thunder. The sheer pressure of its aura made even seasoned knights tremble.

Leo, standing near the banquet’s edge, folded his arms. His eyes narrowed. This boy… he’s still standing. Not just standing—he’s waiting. He knows.

The clone raised its blade, and Noah’s body shifted ever so slightly. Then, in a flash, he leapt forward. His movements were neither hesitant nor reckless—they carried a rhythm, a deliberate grace that stirred something deep within Leo’s chest.

“Wolf Fang—Lunar Hunt!” Noah roared.

His sword danced like silver under the banquet lights, each strike chasing the clone like a predator pursuing prey. The spectators gasped, the nobles whispering in disbelief.

“That stance… impossible.”
“No one alive should know that technique!”
“Could it be… he is the heir of Rome’s forgotten style?”

The clone blocked every slash, its expression unreadable, but its stance shifted. For the first time, the legendary shade seemed to acknowledge Noah as a true opponent.

Leo smirked. So, the boy’s not just talent. He knows the Twelve Fangs. But how…?

A shimmer pulsed before Leo’s eyes.

【 Mission Progress: 15% — Observe the heir of the Twelve Fangs. 】

Leo’s chest tightened. The System was watching. Watching him.

Noah didn’t stop. His feet dug into the floor, and with a leap he soared high. The nobles below craned their necks as his blade descended like a falling star.

“Falcon Fang—Sky Rend!”

The strike came from above, so fast it blurred, so sharp it threatened to split the very air. The clone tilted its blade at the last instant, catching the attack but staggering back a single step—the first time it had yielded ground.

The audience erupted in disbelief. Even Sir Cedric Valtor, the kingdom’s proclaimed greatest swordsman, had his jaw clenched tight, eyes unblinking.

“That… that was the technique of the Falcon. But that art perished a millennium ago…”

Beside him, Lady Elara, the archmage, whispered nervously, “To see such a thing again… Are we witnessing history itself?”

Noah landed, chest heaving, but his eyes burned with determination. He glanced across the hall, his gaze settling—not on the king, not on the nobles, not on Cedric or Elara.

He stared straight at Leo.

For an instant, time seemed to freeze. Leo’s heart thudded in his chest. That boy wasn’t fighting just the clone—he was sending a message.

And then, as if to prove the point, the System blinked again.

【 Mission Progress: 28% — The heir acknowledges your presence. 】

Leo clicked his tongue. Tch. This brat. He knows I’m watching. And he’s daring me…