Chapter 13. Duel (2)
He blurred forward in an instant—one second, he was across the field, and the next, he was right in front of me.
His spear gleamed, coated once more with that telltale sparkling light.
"[Fierce Blow]!" he roared.
I barely ducked in time, twisting sharply to the right as the spear slammed into the ground with a brutal crack, the sheer force of it uprooting chunks of stone and earth like they were made of sand.
He was already moving again, gritting his teeth as he raised his right leg for a sweeping side-kick. But I'd seen it coming.
The moment his leg lifted, I reacted on instinct. My boot came crashing into his chest with a sickening crunch, and I felt the sensation of his torso beneath my foot—like I'd just stepped on a half-filled water bottle.
He choked, spitting mucus as he stumbled backward, tumbling across the dirt.
But he was fast. Too fast.
Rolling with the impact, he kicked off the ground and sprang back to his feet. The brat's expression had shifted—no longer the smug, arrogant young master I'd been dealing with. His eyes gleamed with a cold clarity, like something inside him had finally snapped into place.
"You really are a Lancaster," he said with something resembling respect, though it was warped through gritted teeth.
I chuckled inwardly. 'Oh great. He's evolved past 'spoiled trash' mode. Just my luck.'