Fame meant nothing. While possessing a reputation for martial prowess was fine, that reputation was ultimately based on past accomplishments and offered no guarantee of future outcomes.
What truly mattered was whether Chris Morgan, the man standing here, possessed the strength to defeat Raul Giordano, the renowned warrior known throughout the land as the Fiery Tempest.
“Impressive. Few among the younger warriors are as skilled as yourself. Your spear strike earlier was a masterful blow, without a doubt. I, too, once took pride in my skill with the spear and had hoped we might cross spears one-on-one. Perhaps that hope is merely wishful thinking now,” said Raul as he sighed, glancing around them.
The Mikoshiba army soldiers had already taken control of the battlefield and surrounded them. Allied soldiers still showed signs of resistance, but there was no chance Raul could survive until reinforcements arrived. Under such circumstances, Chris had no reason to accept a duel with Raul. To do so would be to throw away a certain victory—a folly beyond measure.
Fighting “honorably” was but a fantasy.
On the battlefield, the absolute truth and law were simple: one must kill a weakened enemy without mercy. One could break this law in the name of warrior pride. However, doing so demanded a readiness to pay a heavy price—not only personally, but from one’s lord, comrades, and even one’s family. Furthermore, this battle on Lubua Plains directly affected the very survival of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy. No matter how deeply Chris revered warrior pride, he could not cling to it here. This understanding led Raul to call his desire a foolish wish. Yet, in response to Raul’s words, Chris gave an unexpected reply.
“No... I must also insist on this request. A spear match with the famed Raul, the Fiery Tempest, would be the honor of a lifetime as a warrior.”
Raul’s eyes widened in astonishment at Chris’s words. He had never imagined that Chris would accept the duel. Soon, Raul’s fierce warrior instinct stirred and a sharp, cold glimmer returned to his eyes.
“I see... Then, I shall graciously accept your offer.”
With those words, Chris swiftly dismounted his horse, positioning his spear horizontally at his waist. Its tip pointed squarely at Raul’s stomach. That spear was the very embodiment of a weapon forged to its utmost limit, a testament to the unity of Chris Morgan and the weapon he wielded. Raul sighed deeply in response.
“An impeccable stance... I understand now. I had glimpsed the terrifying precision of your thrust earlier, but to think it would be so profound. I see why you chose to accept my challenge.”
There was no resentment in his voice nor any trace of sarcasm. A warrior of Raul’s caliber could gauge his opponent’s strength from their stance alone. With this insight, he quietly readied his beloved spear, fully aware of the outcome awaiting him.
“Then...”
“Yes...”
Chris and Raul nodded briefly at each other, which served as their signal. They moved almost simultaneously. At least, it appeared like that in the tense eyes of the vigilant soldiers of the Mikoshiba army. It was a duel between two warriors whose spear skills had been honed to their peak. But even the finest warrior has a moment where the balance shifts. At some imperceptible instant, Chris’s spear struck with blinding speed, piercing through Raul Giordano’s throat. None of the onlookers caught that instant, yet the result was undeniable. The strength drained from Raul’s body, and he collapsed on to the ground. As the scene registered in the minds of the soldiers, thunderous shouts erupted from around them.
This signaled that the battle on Lubua Plains had reached its final phase.
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