NOVEL NEXT Chapter 99: Hoe to Feet
Among the standing spectators—
Healer Mae stiffened.
Her eyes never left Lucas.
The effect is too stable… she thought quickly.
The potion was only supposed to enhance physical response.
Not improve distance judgment.
Not calm breathing rhythm under pressure.
Mae's gaze shifted to Lucas's thigh.
Blood was still flowing.
Soaking into the fabric of his trousers.
Every step left dark droplets staining the arena floor.
That's not a minor wound, she thought. He should have slowed down by now.
Yet Lucas kept moving.
Inside the arena—
Lucas felt nothing.
Heat.
Impact.
Flesh tearing.
All of it drowned beneath adrenaline, tricking his nerves.
His steps were light.
His mind was clear.
He didn't even notice the blood hitting the ground.
Aldric did.
His gaze dropped for a split second—to the trail of blood—
then hardened again.
"Disgusting," he hissed.
"You must be using some cheap potion!"
Mana surged through his sword.
The pressure in the air intensified.
Several spectators instinctively stepped back half a pace.
Aldric raised his sword high.
No technique.
Just a heavy downward slash.
Lucas reacted.
He twisted his body,
letting the Rosevelt blade pass an inch from his shoulder—
then smashed into the side of the sword with the hoe's head.
CLANG—!!
The impact came from the side.
Aldric staggered half a step.
His balance wavered.
A sharp intake of breath echoed from the stands.
Mae's eyes widened.
That's not the potion's effect, she thought firmly.
That's his ability.
Lucas stepped forward.
Iron and steel clashed again.
CLANG—CLANG—!!
Their attacks traded without pause. The tempo rose. Sparks flew. The pressure in the air grew heavier.
Aldric's expression finally changed completely.
"Damn it—!" he snarled, leaping back half a step. His jaw tightened. "It seems I'll have to use all of my power."
"TSK…"
Mana exploded from his body, pressing down on the arena like an invisible weight.
Lucas was still smiling.
But inside his mind—
So this still isn't his full strength…
His throat moved.
He swallowed.
The potion's effect wasn't permanent.
Twenty minutes—at most.
And that time was steadily running out.
If this keeps up, I have to finish this fast,
Lucas thought. If I drag it out, I'm dead.
Beside the Baroness—
Silvara clenched her fists tightly.
Her body trembled.
Her eyes were locked onto the arena.
Come on… win, she begged silently.
Don't lose. Don't die. Ruin the Baroness's plan…
Back in the arena—
Aldric vanished.
In the next instant, he was right in front of Lucas.
CLANG—!!
Lucas blocked the attack.
And immediately felt the difference.
Heavy.
Much heavier.
The vibration traveled from the hoe's head into his wrists. It felt like his bones were being struck from the inside.
This is dangerous, Lucas realized instantly.
Aldric was faster now.
More aggressive.
His pressure was brutal.
One mistake—
and it would be over.
But Lucas didn't retreat.
He chose to attack first.
Lucas raised the Great Hoe high—his posture resembling a claymore cleave.
Aldric grinned.
"This will be your final—"
"Shut the fuck up," Lucas cut in coldly.
When the blade aligned with Aldric's shoulder, Lucas pushed instead of slashing.
He twisted the end of the hoe's handle sharply to the right.
Aldric reflexively jumped back, laughing.
"Hah! Miss—"
Lucas grinned.
The hoe came down.
Mana flowed into the tip of the hoe's blade.
Without Aldric realizing it, Lucas wasn't truly aiming for his upper body. He drove the hoe forward with his full body weight, then swung it down—his right hand gripping closer to the head, his left hand at the end of the handle—dropping his body to accelerate the already heavy downward arc.
THUM—!!
"AAAHHGGGGGHHH—!!!"
The tip of the Great Hoe slammed into Aldric's foot.
The heavy impact echoed throughout the arena.
"UGH—!!"
"—!!"
The crowd recoiled.
Some even shut their eyes.
Valeric winced as well.
Just watching it made his leg ache.
Aldric hopped backward violently, hands clutching his foot.
Even with boots.
Even with mana reinforcement—
the full weight of the Great Hoe struck without mercy.
"Ngh—!" Aldric ground his teeth.
Good thing I still had mana… otherwise—my foot would've been crushed clean off.
But there was another sensation.
Deep.
Sharp.
Cracked.
He tried to step forward—
"Agh—!!"
His movement immediately turned into a limp.
"Insolence!" Aldric screamed in pain.
Meanwhile, Lucas—now collapsed on the ground, still gripping the Great Hoe—slowly braced himself on one knee, easing the hoe's weight back under control.
Aldric was truly struggling.
Every time he tried to moving forward—
his limping leg forced him to hesitate for a fraction of a second.
And in a duel at this level—
a fraction of a second was a death sentence.
In Lucas's hands, the Great Hoe was now in its lightest mode.
"HAHA—!" Lucas let out a short laugh.
He attacked.
Wildly.
Wide swings.
Sideways blows.
Brutal strikes that forced Aldric to stay on the defensive.
CLANG—!!
CLANG—!!
Aldric could still hold on.
His sword moved on reflex.
Block.
Parry.
Deflect.
But as time passed—
he began to adjust.
And that was when Lucas changed.
The next swing—
light.
Fast.
Then suddenly—
HEAVY.
The momentum shifted mid-swing.
Aldric read it too late.
CLANG—!!
He was forced to retreat.
His leg screamed in pain.
Lucas gave him no time.
Light—heavy.
Fast—slow.
Up—down.
Aldric's tempo collapsed.
He couldn't keep up.
Not with a crippled leg.
Not with a rhythm that kept getting shattered.
Lucas laughed again.
"Haha—come on!" he taunted, swinging once more.
Beside the Baroness—
Silvara watched everything.
The fire in her eyes slowly faded.
Her expression went flat again.
Her hands loosened.
Why… she thought quietly.
Why do you have to be like that…
Lucas's chance of victory now looked real.
But the way he laughed—
the way he savored every bit of pressure—
made her chest feel strange.
In the arena—
Aldric panted.
One step forward—
failed.
One step back—
forced.
Lucas was drowning in euphoria.
Every blow of the Great Hoe now landed.
No longer just forcing defense—
but striking true.
CLANG—!!
THUD—!!
Aldric was forced to retreat.
Again.
And again.
But the narrative camera pulled away.
—
Amid the crowd of spectators—
Geralt wore a wide smile.
Around him, people trembled.
Some covered their mouths.
Others turned their faces away.
Beside his legs—
Anya stood on tiptoe.
Short.
Small.
Blocked by adults.
She looked up at her father's face.
"Father…?" she murmured, confused.
Why was he smiling?
She tried to peek at the arena—
but couldn't.
Her face scrunched up in frustration.
"Hmph…"
Anya then walked away slowly.
Slipping between the legs of the adults.
As she glanced around, she muttered softly—
"…observe…"
"…observee…"
Her eyes kept moving.
Searching.
Watching.
And far enough from the arena—
beneath the evening sky—
Anya spotted Boran.
The man stood alone.
A single sheet of paper in his hand.
The orange glow of the sunset reflected—
making something on the paper glimmer in a round shape.
Anya froze.
Round. Shimmering. On the paper.
Iron Matron once talked about this, she thought.
About special documents.
"…special?" she murmured.
Anya watched Boran longer.
Observing.
Observe.
Boran lowered his head.
Let out a long breath.
"Damn…" he muttered quietly.
"I can't run."
His eyes returned to the paper.
Proof of the sale of the Stone of Staboyonaz—
to Aldric.
He folded it quickly.
With his left hand,
he slipped it into the right side of his coat.
Boran was too tired.
Too stressed by the weight of Aldric's future plans.
He didn't notice the trivial mistake he had just made.
The paper—
slid down.
Fell to the ground.
Anya saw it.
Her eyes went wide.
She immediately ran over.
Picked up the paper with both hands.
Her heart pounded.
"…this is for observe," she whispered, as if justifying herself.
She lowered her gaze.
Read.
Letter by letter.
Thanks to her days with Silvara—
in conquering letters—
Anya could understand.
Little by little.
Her hands began to tremble.
"Iron Knight shall report this to Miss Silvara right away," Anya spun around and ran hard toward her father. She slipped, then slowly stood back up, eyes watery.
She ran again and—bughh—
She crashed into someone's leg.