Anthony Olliver won without suspense.
His duel was over in less than five moves.
The veteran Knight moved with quiet precision, his long sniper rifle flashing silver under the sun. He didn't shoot from afar like a marksman. Instead, he wielded the massive weapon as though it were a spear, swinging its length with crushing momentum and parrying his opponent's sword with the barrel. When he fired, the recoil alone sent shockwaves across the arena.
Each movement was efficient, calculated. Not a flourish, not a wasted breath.
His opponent was airborne before most spectators realized what had happened. When the younger Knight hit the ground, Anthony already had his rifle barrel pressed against his chest, the faint glow of a training round chambered, ready to fire.
The other Knight could only raise his hand in defeat.
The crowd erupted.
"Masterful! What footwork!"
"His timing's immaculate, how does a man his age move like that?"
"As expected of Vale's warhound!"
Anthony gave a small, polite bow before leaving the ring, his expression unreadable.
For him, this had been practice, nothing more.
And now, it was time for the last bout of the round.
When the announcer called the names, all eyes turned toward the two figures stepping into the ring.
One was Jiang Ning, heir of House Ning.
The other, a veteran Knight with more than a decade of battlefield experience, a man known for his defense, carrying a broad rectangular shield and a longsword gleaming at his side.
As Jiang Ning took his position, he felt the weight of hundreds of gazes pressing down on him. Nobles, soldiers, merchants, everyone had stopped talking. The young lord was about to prove whether his earlier legend was truth or tale.
If it were any other eighteen-year-old, that pressure alone would have crushed their confidence. But Jiang Ning wasn't just another prodigy.
He was a war-hardened soul trapped in a younger body.
He'd faced death countless times before, what was one more crowd?
Ren Ning, seated at the officiator's table, watched silently. His hand tightened slightly on the armrest. He trusted his son, but this match would determine how the rest of the nobility viewed him.
Qin Ning, on the other hand, leaned back in his seat with a lazy grin. His eyes glimmered like oil on water.
Let's see you squirm now, boy.
Jiang Ning rolled his shoulders and reached for his weapon, the sleek rifle with a long steel blade affixed beneath the barrel. The gunblade, forged in the family workshop, wasn't new or enchanted. It was simple steel and wood, heavy but balanced perfectly in his grip.
He flicked it up, checked the chamber, and rested it across his shoulders as he walked toward the center.
The crowd murmured.
"Is he… planning to use that gun in close combat?"
"That's insane! He'll be torn apart before he can even aim!"
"No, look at how he holds it… that isn't a gunman's stance. That's a swordsman's posture."
Ren Ning's eyes flicked briefly toward the glowing panel that only Jiang could see.
Mission: Might of House Ning
Difficulty: Easy
Show everyone the might of House Ning by winning the competition!
Rewards: 150 Battle Points, 30 EXP, F-Rank Talent Card x1
Penalty for failure: –300 Battle Points
Jiang frowned faintly. "That's a harsher penalty than usual."
Three hundred Battle Points, that was a month of daily missions. The system wasn't playing around this time.
He hesitated only a second before focusing again. Fine. If we're doing this, let's do it properly.
He called up his status.
Jiang Ning [Knight]
EXP: 31 / 500
Potential: B
Talent:
Horseback Riding (C)
Marksmanship (SSS)
Close Combat (D)
Swordsmanship (F)
Hunting (E)
Tracking (F)
Stats:
Strength: 28+
Stamina: 28+
Agility: 25+
Vitality: 27+
Endurance: 27+
Mana: 13+
Battle Points: 460
Stat Points: 35
He stared for a moment, then exhaled softly. "Let's stack the deck."
With a thought, he allocated twenty points, ten into Strength, ten into Agility.
Updated Stats:
Strength: 38+
Agility: 35+
Stat Points: 15 remaining.
Power surged through his limbs like lightning running through iron. The gunblade suddenly felt lighter, the air sharper. Every sound in the courtyard, the crackle of torches, the rustle of cloth, even the distant murmurs of the crowd, seemed to slow.
So this is what it feels like to push the limits…
Across from him, his opponent adjusted his shield, unaware of the difference that now separated them.
Ren Ning rose to his feet. "Begin!"
The Knight charged first, shield forward, sword arcing in a clean horizontal slash. His stance was textbook perfect, something taught in Knight academies across the empire.
But to Jiang, it was slow.
He sidestepped casually, the edge of the blade brushing harmlessly past his coat. In the same motion, he raised his gunblade, but didn't shoot.
Instead, he slammed the rifle stock against the back of his opponent's shield, spinning with the recoil and sweeping his leg low.
The Knight's footing crumbled. His balance vanished.
He stumbled.
Before the man could recover, Jiang twisted midair, his coat flaring, and brought the gunblade's edge down in a clean 180-degree spin.
The veteran Knight barely had time to raise his shield before the blade struck.
The impact thundered through the courtyard like a cannon. The shield arm went numb, and the man was thrown several meters back, crashing onto the ground.
"What strength…!" someone gasped.
Jiang landed lightly and approached at an unhurried pace. His opponent tried to stand, but the younger man's shadow loomed over him.
A metallic click rang out.
Jiang pressed the cold barrel of his gunblade against the Knight's neck, the faint, charged hum of the training round echoing in the silence.
The Knight froze. His eyes darted up, meeting Jiang's calm golden gaze.
"I concede," he said bitterly.
The tension in the courtyard snapped. Cheers exploded.
"Unbelievable! Lord Jiang Ning actually won!"
"He's not just talented, that was surgical precision!"
"His movements… it's like he's fought for decades!"
Ren Ning exhaled slowly, pride flashing in his eyes. Qin's expression, however, had soured visibly.
Jiang helped his opponent up with one hand. "Good fight," he said quietly.
The older Knight gave a wry chuckle. "You're too modest, my lord. I've never seen anyone handle a gunblade like that."
Jiang only smiled faintly, holstering his weapon before bowing to the crowd. The sunlight caught the polished steel, glinting like a salute.
The stands roared.
From the orphanage group seated near the back, Rasmus's jaw practically dropped.
"So Lord Jiang is this strong…?"
Beside him, William nodded with a proud smile. "You've chosen the right man to follow, Rasmus. Watch him carefully, he'll teach you more than just fighting."
"Yes, Grandpa!" Rasmus clenched his fists, eyes blazing with determination.
Up on the dais, Qin Ning's fingers curled against the armrest. His forced smile didn't reach his eyes.
"That damned brat…" he muttered under his breath. "He's getting better every day."
He'd expected Jiang to struggle, maybe to scrape a narrow victory, or even lose gracefully. Instead, the boy had won with the calm certainty of a man decades his senior. His composure, his technique, the calculated use of the gunblade, it all reeked of someone who had seen too many battles.
So that victory against me wasn't a fluke after all.
Qin's jaw tightened.
Fine. Let's see how long you can stay on top.
The announcer's voice rang out again, signaling the end of the first round.
"The first round of the House Ning competition has concluded! Congratulations to all victors!"
The crowd applauded once more as attendants entered to redraw the lots for the second round.
Only eight competitors remained now, the best of the best. Among them were Jiang Ning, Dylann Heinrich, Anthony Olliver, and five veteran Knights whose records spoke for themselves.
The stakes had shifted.
No one was just watching for entertainment anymore, they were watching for dominance.
The tension rose as slips were drawn and names were paired.
Bets began flying across the courtyard, coins clinking, papers changing hands, excited shouts echoing through the estate grounds.
"Ten gold on Lord Dylann!"
"Twenty on the Vale sniper!"
"I'm putting everything on young Lord Jiang, that kid's a monster!"
Even Ren Ning's lips curved faintly at the sound. For the first time in years, the estate felt alive again.
Jiang, however, didn't hear any of it. He stood off to the side, gunblade resting against his shoulder, gaze calm as a mirror.
He could feel it, eyes everywhere, expectations pressing in from all sides.
It didn't bother him.
Not anymore.
He'd faced worse than noble gossip.
Worse than the weight of family honor. He'd faced gods and kings and men who burned entire cities to win.
This?
This was just a game.
Anthony Olliver stood across the courtyard, cleaning his sniper rifle, his face like carved stone. When he lifted his eyes briefly, they met Jiang's for a single, measured instant.
It wasn't hostility. It wasn't curiosity either.
It was recognition.
The recognition of one warrior acknowledging another.
And somewhere in the stands, Qin Ning's forced smile finally slipped.
He watched his nephew, calm, confident, radiant beneath the banners of House Ning, and felt the bitter taste of something he hadn't known in years.
Fear.
A moment later, the results of the drawing of lots were revealed.
The guests's enthusiasm intensified after the pairings for the second round were announced.
More people joined in the betting of the candidates which caused the entire venue to shake with excitement.