Bloodhound’s Regression Instinct

Chapter 89

In a sudden twist of fate, Bruce found himself on the receiving end of a duel challenge, his face flushing a deep crimson. He wiped the greasy sweat from his face with a grimy hand.

“Damn it all…”

Lifting his head, he glared at Yan with fiery eyes. Such a lowly commoner could be dealt with in numerous ways, not necessarily through a duel.

Bruce, who was about to dismiss Yan’s challenge with a sneer, froze as a sense of unease washed over him.

‘Wait a minute!’

His gaze swept rapidly around the room. The nobles and Royal Knights were looking on with keen interest.

Before he knew it, he had become the center of attention at the banquet.

Bruce’s face turned pale as a ghost.

‘This, this means I have no choice but to accept, right?’

For a noble, declining a duel challenge was unthinkable. It was a disgraceful and utterly humiliating act.

Had it been away from the prying eyes of other nobles, he would have laughed it off and called his knights… but now, that was impossible.

The majority of the empire’s nobility was present.

If he backed down now, this incident would be talked about for ages.

It was clear that his position as the head of his house was in jeopardy.

Only then did Bruce fully grasp his predicament, his eyes trembling fiercely.

‘Cruel may be a swine, but when it comes to swordsmanship, he’s above me.’

And that meant his companion was likely above him as well.

In other words.

The chances of him losing here were incredibly high.

Whether this was a trap set by that scoundrel or not.

There was no way out.

* * *

Yan faced Bruce, his lower lip caught between his teeth in a bewildered bite. It seemed he had never anticipated that a mere plaything of a commoner would dare to issue a challenge.

“…Do you even realize what you’re doing?” Bruce spat out the question with disdain.

“It’s a duel challenge, what else?” Yan shrugged nonchalantly, then glanced over at Cruel, who was staring back with a vacant expression.

‘It seems I’ve caught him just right.’

The reason Yan had caused such a commotion was all for Cruel—to firmly pull him to his side. And it looked like his intentions had succeeded, given the complex look Cruel was giving him.

And then there was…

‘That detestable face.’

He was the perfect target to release the stress that had been building up.

Yan turned to Kyle, who had stepped back, and asked, “Lord Kyle, could you lend me a sword?”

“My sword is a gift from His Majesty, so that’s difficult, but you can use this if it’s alright,” Kyle replied, pulling one of the two swords from his waist and tossing it to Yan.

Yan caught the sheathed sword and swiped it through the air a few times.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The sharp sound of cutting air suggested it was a sword crafted by a skilled blacksmith. Yan tossed it casually forward.

Clang!

The sword landed precisely at Bruce’s feet. The nobles who had gathered like clouds frowned at Yan’s sudden action. The Royal Knights, including Clavan, watched Yan with disapproval.

“…What are you doing?” Bruce asked, trying to mask the tremble in his voice.

“You don’t have a sword. How can you duel like that? That’s something only those who throw away ‘honor’ would do,” Yan replied indifferently.

“…And you?”

Yan shrugged again and showed his empty hands.

“This is enough for me, isn’t it?”

The surrounding nobles tilted their heads in confusion, not understanding his meaning. Then, a few nobles caught on and snickered.

Bruce’s face flushed with a mix of red and blue.

“You’re going to fight empty-handed?”

“Do you think I could win if I used that?”

Bruce ground his teeth and picked up the sword at his feet. His eyes darkened as he gripped the sword.

‘The young fool is overflowing with confidence.’

Bruce’s lips curled up. He thought this might actually be better.

If the boy let his guard down, it would give Bruce a chance.

No matter how strong the boy was, he couldn’t block Bruce empty-handed.

Though he lacked talent compared to the bastard Cruel, he had still reached the 6th rank.

As Bruce was burning with a fighting spirit.

“Yawn.”

Yan yawned and looked at Clavan standing behind him.

“Shall we begin?”

Clavan nodded.

“Remember, everyone is responsible for what happens from now on.”

As soon as Clavan declared the start of the duel.

“Die!”

Bruce surged forward, mana gathered in full force, closing the distance to Yan with incredible speed. The nobles exclaimed in admiration.

“He’s reached the 6th rank not long ago, but that’s quite a mature level!”

“Truly worthy of the noble sword family, the eldest son of the Dwight house.”

“But that commoner Yan doesn’t seem to be doing anything?”

At one noble’s comment, the others turned their gaze to Yan, who was yawning as if bored.

It looked as if he would be skewered by Bruce’s sword at any moment.

A bright blue mana flared at the tip of Bruce’s sword.

He had manifested sword energy.

“Sword energy!”

“To manifest it so quickly!”

“It’s over. It’s done.”

The nobles were surprised by Bruce’s unexpected achievement.

And Kyle, too, clenched his fist as he watched.

‘Why isn’t he responding? He could easily win!’

Yan was at a disadvantage without a weapon, and his attitude towards the duel was unsettling.

Just as Bruce’s sword was about to plunge into Yan’s chest.

“Stop.”

Someone was about to intervene to stop the duel.

“Vice-captain!”

It was Clavan.

He was watching Yan with one corner of his mouth lifted, the only one among the many who seemed to have caught on to what Yan was about to do.

“Indeed, he’s an interesting fellow, just as Sir Kyle said.”

* * *

Yan, amidst a yawn, kept a watchful eye on Bruce’s every move. He had remained still until Bruce’s sword was almost upon him.

Swish.

With a swift step back, Yan dodged the incoming blade, then coiled his arms around Bruce’s like a serpent. His left arm grabbed Bruce’s, while his right hand found its way to Bruce’s side.

“What the—!”

Bruce, in a panic, tried to shake Yan off, but to no avail.

“Why is this so easy?”

Yan smirked, slipping his left foot between Bruce’s legs and twisting his body with force.

Crash!

Bruce hit the ground hard, a web of cracks forming beneath him, blood spurting from his mouth. Yan didn’t stop there; he kicked Bruce’s right side as if stabbing with his toes.

“Aaargh!”

Bruce screamed, the pain blanching his face. He scrambled up, desperate to escape, but Yan was relentless.

Thump!

“Ugh!”

Bruce felt his strength drain as Yan struck the same spot again. The world spun, and his body crumbled. He wished the duel would end, a thought that would have shamed him before, but now he prayed for it to be over.

But Yan had other plans.

“You can’t fall just yet.”

If the duel ended so anticlimactically, it wouldn’t have started at all. Crushing Bruce to the point of helplessness would make it easier to manipulate Cruel, removing both a hostage and an obstacle.

Tap. Tap.

Thud, thump!

Yan’s kicks and punches oddly prevented Bruce from collapsing. If he tilted sideways, a kick would prop him up; if he fell backward, an arm would pull him forward. Bruce tasted the full measure of pain.

“Please, just end it.”

Tears streamed down Bruce’s face as he begged Yan, who grinned and clenched his fist.

“I don’t think so.”

Thump!

Bruce’s eyes bulged with excruciating pain.

‘This bastard, he’s been targeting the same spot over and over.’

It was almost an obsession.

Tears and snot smeared Bruce’s face beyond recognition. Yan was venting his pent-up stress, feeling a release with every hit. But the end was nearing, as Clavan, watching from a distance, seemed ready to intervene.

Yan drove a straight punch into Bruce’s abdomen.

“Guh!”

Bruce doubled over, coughing up blood. Yan then spun low, his heel flying towards Bruce’s temple.

Bang!

The spinning kick sent Bruce flying in an arc. Yan exhaled sharply and scanned the room. The nobles were agape with shock.

“How… I didn’t see any mana use.”

“Indeed, there must be a reason why His Highness summoned him to the palace.”

“At his age, to be at such a level…”

Greed flickered in the nobles’ eyes as they resolved to recruit Yan.

Clavan approached the distant Bruce, who was foaming at the mouth, his eyes unfocused, utterly incapacitated.

“Hmm.”

Clavan confirmed Bruce was breathing and declared, “Bruce Dwight is unable to fight. The victor is Yan!”

The announcement electrified the banquet hall. It was the rise of a new super rookie. The nobles didn’t shout like mercenaries or commoners, but their applause spoke volumes.

Clap clap clap clap!

Clap clap clap clap!

All but one—Cruel’s father and the head of the Dwight family—applauded. He glared at Yan with icy eyes.

Then, a heavy step echoed.

“What in the world is going on here!”

A furious shout swept through the hall. The nobles turned, their mouths sealed shut.

Yan turned to face the source of the outcry, his eyes settling calmly.

“Vice-Captain Claban, explain yourself. Why has such an event occurred at a banquet hosted by the royal palace?”

It was Prince Leon Caballan.