"Despicable outsider, get out of Demacia!"
"Get out of Demacia!"
"Get out of Demacia!"
"Get out of Demacia!"
...
The deafening uproar grew more and more unified, until it surged as one voice. Before Duke had even stepped onto the stage, the entire arena was already rejecting him.
Every pair of eyes burned with anger and hostility. Every throat screamed hoarse curses against the man who had yet to appear.
"To be fair, those people in the propaganda mills really did their job well!"
Standing at the tunnel entrance, Duke clicked his tongue as he listened to the hostile tide outside. He flexed the fingers where his trigger-rings were strapped and walked slowly forward.
"But after today… all of this will be meaningless."
The moment Duke emerged from the tunnel, the crowd's emotions ignited further. More and more people hurled insults at him.
"Despicable cur, get out of Demacia!"
"Get out!"
"You're not worthy to stand here!"
"Out! Out!"
...
From the stands, trash began to rain down on him, apple cores, rotten eggs, wilted cabbage leaves. Someone even flung a shoe.
In the highest VIP box, Dud Ein watched the scene with a triumphant smirk, leaning on his cane.
"Boy, you'll pay the price for your arrogance! You'll learn that Demacia isn't a place where you can run wild!"
Seeing Duke drowned in jeers, Dud Ein's heart swelled with delight. He could already taste the satisfaction of watching this upstart crumble under the weight of public scorn and slink out of Demacia in disgrace.
In another private box,
Lady Lestara sighed and shook her head as she witnessed Duke's treatment.
"They've gone too far."
"If this continues, Piltover will surely strike back against them."
"Mother, does Duke hold that much status in Piltover?" asked her younger daughter Katerina.
"The fact that he was chosen as their forerunner proves his standing and ability," Lady Lestara replied, stroking her daughter's hair. Katerina nodded with half-understanding, while Sona fixed her gaze on Duke in the arena, a faint tension flickering in her eyes.
Among the spectators,
"You're not worried about Duke?" Vayne teased Lux at her side.
Lux shook her head firmly. "I have faith in my teacher."
"He's strong."
"Indeed." A strange light flashed in Vayne's eyes. "Those who underestimate him… will pay dearly."
At last, Duke reached the center of the arena, facing his opponent. The man bared his teeth in a grin and drew the long blade from his hip, a weapon style wholly unlike Demacia's.
"Someone asked me to deliver greetings, Duke Sanchez."
Duke's eyes narrowed at the blade. "An Ionian sword?"
"Sharp eye. I studied at an Ionian dojo for ten years. You're the first opponent I've met since returning home!"
He raised the sword in an awkward stance, his face brimming with confidence.
"Relax. I won't kill you."
"So sure of yourself?"
Duke flexed the fingers of his right hand. The delicate chains linking his trigger-rings clinked softly.
"I once cut down a swallow riding the wind. My swordsmanship is near perfection. A mere craftsman like you cannot possibly defeat me."
He shifted into his stance: both hands on the hilt, sword hidden to his right, feet spread apart, left leg forward, right rooted behind.
"…Hah."
Duke said no more. He only sighed, then clenched his fist slightly. His heartbeat quickened, blood surged, pressure spiked. His body burned like a furnace, radiating terrifying heat.
"Let's hope you survive."
Once the referee and announcer exchanged signals, the referee retreated to safety.
"Begin!"
The word had barely fallen when the swordsman lunged, blade flashing down toward Duke's arm.
Duke stepped back, borrowing force, then drove his right fist forward. A violent shockwave roared from his punch, crashing outward like a ceaseless tide.
The swordsman faltered, eyes widening.
"Windblade Swordsmanship?"
"No… this isn't Windblade Swordsmanship!"
But there was no time to ponder. Sparks crackled, and the gale transformed into a blazing dragon that bellowed forward.
Boom!!!
The swordsman barely evaded to the side. But the fire-dragon did not stop. A burning line carved itself across the ground, sweeping through the entire arena with unstoppable might.
Gunfist Technique, Full-Arena Bombardment!
Boom! Boom! Boom!!
The earth in front of Duke erupted as if under artillery fire. Smoke billowed skyward, cracks split the stone laced with anti-magic ore, and even the far-off wall bore a dent.
For a heartbeat, the arena fell utterly silent.
"…Ah, missed the mark."
Duke shook out his right hand and flashed a grin at his opponent.
The swordsman swallowed hard, terror mixing with rage. Who said this brat was a weakling with no real skill?
That punch, against a fully armored knight, it would have shattered him to pieces. If Duke hadn't aimed away, he'd already be ash.
"Next punch, I won't miss."
The voice thundered in his ears. Duke was suddenly upon him.
Instinctively, the swordsman slashed, but Duke's figure blurred, and then a fist drove into his gut.
Thud!
Duke grinned, teeth gleaming white.
"Better hope you can withstand this one. Don't die too soon."
The swordsman was launched, flying across the arena.
Exhaling, Duke closed his right hand into a claw. Sparks shimmered in his palm like stars in the night.
"Gunfist Technique!"
With a low growl, his claw clenched to a fist. Sparks compressed under immense force, then detonated with a clang like colliding steel.
From afar, it looked as though his fist itself was sheathed in flame.
"Low Trajectory Burst!!"
His punch crashed forward. The sparks streaked out, forming a blazing river of starlight across the air. As oxygen rushed in and ignited, the fireline bloomed into a sea of flame, engulfing the dueling ground.
Rumble!!
Half the arena vanished into fire and explosion. The blast shook the earth, sending shockwaves in every direction.
Spectators clutched their ears in pain as the deafening roar caused secondary damage.
Duke's vibranium trigger-rings rattled wildly, chains clinking. White steam curled around his right arm as he turned, expression calm, toward the stunned referee.
"Can you announce the result now?"
"Ah?"
Snapped from his daze, the referee quickly raised the flag.
"This match, Duke Sanchez of Piltover is victorious!!"
The announcement rang high. Staff rushed in to extinguish the flames, medics to locate Duke's opponent.
Duke casually pulled out a freeze grenade, yanked the pin, and tossed it. The blast of frost snuffed the remaining fire, silencing the crowd.
Yet whispers still spread.
"With power like that… he must have used magic!"
"Idiot, shut it! Don't spout nonsense!"
"The arena is built with anti-magic stone. No spells are possible here!"
"Right, every wall has suppression pillars, there's no way to use magic!"
"Then that means… this was pure martial skill?"
"But he's supposed to be just a craftsman!"
"Am I insane, or has the world gone mad?"
"Wasn't he just some shameless trickster who relied on his weird weapons? What is this?!"
"Who spread that rumor in the first place?"
"No idea!"
"…Could it be someone deliberately smeared him?"
The words dropped like a stone into the silence.
After Duke's display, none dared question him further.
Those who had shouted for him to leave Demacia now felt their faces burn with shame.
"Duke!!"
A single scream echoed through the arena.
Then, as if something ignited in their hearts, admiration for strength blazed forth.
"Duke!!"
"Duke!!"
"Duke!!"
...
The voices swelled like a rising sea, surging endlessly.
High above, Dud Ein's face darkened. The old man hurled his cane in fury, smashing whatever he could reach.
No one around dared make a sound.
Only the roar of the crowd rolled through the arena, all chanting a single name,
Duke Sanchez.