Chapter 295: The Duel

The news spread like a wildfire.

At first, many scoffed at it.

Pulling out a sword to become king? That's child's play, a drunken tavern tale.

But this time is different: it's Merlin, Britain's most legendary Dharma Master—personally proclaiming a Prophecy!

Regardless of whether the Prophecy is true, the mere fact that Merlin himself endorses it is enough to change everything.

Everyone knows: to preserve the authority of his Prophecy, whoever draws that sword, Merlin will surely devote himself to helping them ascend the Royal Throne!

Otherwise, the face of this legendary Dharma Master would be utterly ruined.

And to receive Merlin's aid, unless the person is a complete fool, the Royal Throne is practically already within reach!

Thus, with various motives—ambition, curiosity, disbelief, or simply wanting to try their luck.

Nobles from across the lands, powerful tribal chieftains, renowned warriors gathered from all directions before the Church that housed the Stone Sword.

The crowd thronged.

Among them were those who had tried and failed years ago, now stronger or simply unwilling to accept defeat and eager for another try; but the majority were newcomers who had only regarded the Stone Sword as a curiosity until Merlin's endorsement, now coming for the first time to test their skill.

Yet hope rose again and again, only to be extinguished each time.

Days passed, and from the famed Grand Duke to the mighty tribal warriors, from seasoned old fighters to sharp young nobles… everyone gave it a try.

The sword still seemed fused with the massive stone, unmoving, mocking everyone's ambition and strength.

Merlin, since proclaiming the Prophecy, has not appeared, leaving the stage entirely to these "competitors".

He cannot be found anywhere, so there is no way to ask him about other methods.

Hope dashed, yet ambition did not fade, instead burning hotter amid real setbacks.

Since the destiny‑appointed path is blocked, let us decide the outcome by the oldest, most direct method!

The gathered nobles began urgent deliberations.

Debates, compromises, and quid pro quos took place in the shadows.

Finally, a proposal endorsed by the overwhelming majority of power‑holders was put forward:

"Duel!"

A respected elder noble loudly proclaimed,

"Since destiny has not shown a direction, let strength and valor decide! Whoever can defeat all opponents in this Duel, standing till the end, is the rightful New King!"

He surveyed the crowd, his voice resonant,

"Because only a true sovereign—invincible!"

The proposal, simple and blunt, matched the appetite of most wielders of force and seemed to fit the logic of a chaotic age seeking strength.

Once the resolution passed, the atmosphere shifted from prior confusion to clarity.

Everyone immediately began discussing the Duel's specifics: time, place, rules… after heated debate, the basic entry criteria were set:

At minimum, one must be a minor noble possessing an official investiture document and a fief.

This rule ensures participants' noble lineage and a certain power base, while keeping the competition within limits to avoid total chaos.

For a moment, qualified nobles began to flex their fists; the unqualified commoners could only sigh, preparing to witness a dragon‑versus‑tiger clash that would decide the kingdom's future.

The crown's ownership seems set to shift from ethereal legend back to an arena of iron and blood.

At this moment.

The wheels clattered, rolling into the bustling Royal Capital.

Arthur sat inside the carriage, his gaze fixed on the window.

Compared with Kai beside him, whose excitement was barely contained and who kept looking out, Arthur silently pressed his lips, his handsome face veiled by a faint gloom; his clear blue eyes seemed to hide an unresolvable worry, at odds with the outside clamor, clearly not in a good mood.

Four years had sculpted the once naïve boy beneath the waterfall into a strikingly graceful youth.

His figure was tall and upright, muscle lines smooth yet not bulky, exuding cheetah‑like power.

Yet the most striking feature remained his visage, inheriting his parents' superior bloodline—features delicately sculpted, distinct contours, golden short hair shimmering like scattered gold in sunlight.

Even merely sitting quietly, occasionally turning his profile, he could make the lovestruck girls on the street blush and hearts race.

Kai, seated beside him, was now in his early twenties.

Time had smoothed many of his youthful rough edges; Sir Ekete's fatherly, meticulous guidance was indispensable, making him far more composed.

Looking at Kai himself, he inherited Sir Ekete's vigor, with a proper appearance and sturdy build, qualifying as a rather dashing young Knight, indeed "somewhat handsome".

However, unfortunately, he sat next to Arthur.

In this contrast, onlookers' gazes inevitably became a bit subtle and… lenient.

As if saying, "Well, the gentleman beside him… does have a few decent qualities."

Kai noticed Arthur's downcast mood.

He naturally assumed Arthur was upset about being unable to join the upcoming king's Duel.

After all, although Arthur was Ekete's adopted son, as close as a father, by law and noble tradition he lacked formal noble status, thus ineligible for this contest limited to nobles and their representatives.

Kai thought for a moment, then with his now steadier voice sincerely comforted:

"Arthur, don't be sad."

He patted Arthur's shoulder, trying to convey strength,

"With your current strength, you don't need this Duel to prove anything."

"My father and I, and everyone who has seen your skill, know how powerful you are."

"Believe me, you will become Britain's strongest warrior, revered and worshipped by all!"

However, Kai was wrong.

Arthur's heavy heart was not due to the Duel's eligibility.

But because of the news that had just spread across the kingdom—King Yuse, his biological father, had passed away.

That father he never had a chance to meet, only a vague image sketched from Merlin's descriptions and the occasional snippets of news Kai brought back.

A faint connection in his blood made him feel an inexplicable emptiness and sorrow, as if an important part of his life had already parted forever before they could even meet.

However, Kai's sincere concern was like a ray of sunshine, dispelling some of the gloom.

Arthur took a deep breath, pressing that complex sorrow back into his heart.

At least…… he silently thought, at least his mother, Queen Igraine, is still alive.

This gave him a faint sense of comfort.

He turned his head, and though his smile to Kai was faint, it was much more genuine, the light returning to his green eyes:

"Well, big brother Kai, thank you."

His gaze fell on the sword at Kai's waist, his tone becoming firm and full of trust,

"You will surely defeat all your opponents! I believe in you!"

Seeing Arthur regain his spirits, Kai also breathed a sigh of relief and laughed heartily:

"Of course! Just wait and see how I, your big brother, will achieve fame and fortune in the Tournament Arena!"

The carriage continued onward, carrying the two brothers, each with different thoughts yet equally closely bound, toward the vortex that decides the kingdom's fate.

Until, before the tournament grounds.

Kai's exclamation rang out:

"Huh? Where did my precious sword go?!"