Chosen by the Northern Grand Duke

Chapter 17: Graffiti (2)

“All’s fine. Do what you want. The North won’t punish you. Don’t we worship strength?”

Elaine’s words came to mind.

‘Crush with strength.’

Not my favorite idea.

It meant becoming as ignorant as them.

But personal feelings aside, I agreed.

It was right. The scene before me proved it. All knights, except the absent 1st Knights’ commander, were at the training ground.

“A mage challenged to a duel?”

“That’s kind of admirable.”

“I want to kill him.”

The knights’ eyes, once full of contempt for me, now held less. Curiosity and rivalry filled the gap.

“If a mage wins, what happens?”

“No way.”

“You never know.”

“It’s Northern tradition. We honor the victor.”

“A mage? Beat the loser instead.”

“Why the loser?”

Opinions clashed.

Because I was a mage.

For the 1st Knights, it was unprecedented.

“The victor will decide.”

Deputy Commander Derrick silenced the chatter.

Right. The winner, even if hated, was honored. That was this land.

Even a mage didn’t change Northern tradition.

Serzila’s tradition.

“Anyone object, draw your sword now.”

Derrick walked, meeting each knight’s eyes.

Gullen, lurking behind me, whispered.

“I’m the weakest in the 1st Knights.”

“Random confession.”

“…For now. Not later. Don’t judge the knights by me.”

Gullen was young.

Nineteen this year. Serzila’s youngest knight.

‘That guy?’

As I thought, Gullen continued.

Advice, in a way.

“That beast you killed in the village? Any of them could kill it while scratching their nose.”

Must they scratch their nose?

I looked at the three knights before me.

Deputy Commander Derrick wasn’t among them. He was still checking the knights’ resolve.

“I threw the glove at the deputy commander.”

“There’s an order.”

To duel Derrick, I had to climb from the bottom.

I laughed hollowly at Gullen’s explanation.

‘A beggar can challenge the Grand Duke? Exaggerated.’

Not entirely wrong.

If you could beat the Grand Duke, you could beat everyone under him.

“Why aren’t you out there?”

By order, Gullen should be included.

He was the lowest.

“I’m exempt.”

Because he reported my escort.

“They think we’re already close.”

Serzila valued loyalty.

Owing a life was the tightest bond.

Not to Gullen, but to the knights, we looked close.

“Bad luck.”

Gullen smacked his lips.

He was a knight, eager for duels.

“What? You’re lucky.”

“What?”

“I don’t enjoy beating someone I know.”

Gullen looked appalled.

Bluff, to him, was a disease.

‘He doesn’t think I challenged for a reason.’

More like he didn’t care.

He’d find out once we fought.

“Weapon?”

Derrick approached, done with inspections.

“Gullen’s lending me a sword.”

“What? When did I… Damn.”

Frowning, Gullen handed over his sword at Derrick’s glance.

To the knights, we were already close.

“Knights Marvin, Groobin, Tursten, in that order.”

Rank order.

Marvin was just above Gullen, Groobin above Marvin, Tursten next. Familiar faces, vaguely.

“Mage, three duels are assigned, but one’s enough.”

With the whole 1st Knights applying, they picked three.

I only needed to beat Marvin.

I looked at the sky.

Sunset was near. Six hours left. The magic would activate at midnight.

“Do it at once. No time.”

“Good. Marvin, step up.”

Derrick pushed Groobin and Tursten back.

They looked disappointed.

“Oh, I misspoke. I meant all three at once.”

“Great!”

Derrick liked that.

***

Excluding the 6th Knights, the five orders’ strength didn’t differ much. Numbers weren’t rank.

That didn’t mean the 1st Knights’ bar was low.

Knight orders always lacked manpower.

Only exceptional ones became Serzila knights.

Even the apprentice 6th Knights would be elite in the Empire.

The five orders were elite among elites.

Only Gullen, recognized for potential, was an exception. From Marvin up, they were serious.

Marvin and Groobin had killed 3rd Rank mages on patrols; Tursten drove a 4th Rank mage to near death.

‘What rank?’

Gullen never asked my rank. Probably 3rd at most.

He frowned, a hint of worry, but not much.

‘Can’t stop it anyway.’

No loyalty for that.

I’d chosen the duel.

Thud!

Derrick’s foot struck the ground.

The duel began. Instantly, Tursten’s face was engulfed in flames.

To Gullen, it was instantaneous.

To Derrick too, his scarred face shocked.

But Tursten was a veteran.

He reacted. The flames didn’t touch his face but burned on the Aura above it.

He tore off the burning Aura like ripping skin.

His hand didn’t reach his sword.

As he peeled off the flames, new ones flared.

Blindingly fast, burning his face before he could shield with Aura.

An explosion. Black smoke rose. His revealed face was blacker.

Not fatal.

Compared to when I killed a beast during my escort, the flames’ power was weak.

‘Why?’

Faster casting?

Gullen shook his head. The casting speed was similar. Intentional.

Charred-faced Tursten drew his sword. I did too.

As blue Aura coated his, flames rose on mine.

The flames were oddly calm.

Not powerful-looking either.

“Demon!”

Tursten roared, slashing down.

Before his sword fell, mine met it, sliding along.

Not flames to clash, but to deflect. My magic matched that swordsmanship. Tursten’s sword veered outward, his chest exposed.

I didn’t notice Gullen and the others leap aside.

Their gazes shifted from my back to us, and the space between.

My foot crossed that space.

Tursten was shorter than me. Had it been Gullen, it’d hit his navel; Tursten took it in the chest.

Crack.

Ribs broke around his chest.

Gasp.

A hollow breath escaped Tursten.

That alone was extraordinary, but flames pooled at my foot. His leather armor melted, skin seemingly with it.

Tursten clutched his burned chest.

His other hand somehow held his sword, swinging upward.

A desperate swing, no Aura. Before it rose, my foot pinned the blade.

“Demon…!”

“Don’t call the Otherworld demons. Why elevate the enemy?”

Tursten’s face twisted with rage.

Scratching my nose, I slammed the pommel into his face, with precision. Tursten fell back.

My gaze shifted to Marvin and Groobin. They were already charging, then collapsed.

Explosions erupted at their legs.

Through torn leather greaves, shinbones showed, not flesh.

‘Magic from a glance.’

Gullen had never fought an Otherworld mage.

He’d heard plenty. Seniors said mages were cheats.

They had to keep talking.

The bigger the deception, the stronger the magic, the longer the chatter.

My magic needed no words. Gullen couldn’t believe it.

But he knew the fight was over.

I was punching Marvin and Groobin’s faces.

Gullen counted to twenty before I stopped.

Marvin and Groobin, twins, had identical, ruined faces.

I moved from crouching between them to sitting on Tursten’s chest, mounting him. Left fist struck, right hand scratched my nose.

‘Crazy bastard.’

Crack, crack!

Each punch was heavy.

After ten, I looked up.

“More, and they’ll die.”

“Insulting them?”

“Victor’s right.”

Derrick’s eyes curled disturbingly.

Sparing the loser meant giving them another chance.

“I acknowledge you, mage. You’ll be treated above Knight Tursten.”

“Harad.”

“Got it, Harad.”

Thud!

Derrick stomped the ground.

“What about the magic?”

The moment the graffiti became magic.

***

“As I said, prepare for midnight. On the wall. That enough?”

Derrick accepted the graffiti was magic.

“Plenty. Beasts will come.”

“Got it. And…?”

“Nothing. Kill beasts as usual. Don’t jump into the Border, just in case.”

“Noted.”

He even took my advice.

An unbelievably quick shift.

‘Still impressive.’

Serzila was relatively civilized.

My words to Gullen were sincere.

Elaine criticized the North’s ignorance, but it gave me a place.

Thanks to the Grand Duke.

Without him, I wouldn’t have had a chance to prove my strength.

The North accepted what was right, rejected what wasn’t.

Serzila chose and accepted me, vouching for my identity.

Having proven my ability, the 1st Knights had no reason to reject me.

“Hey, mage. Harad.”

A passing knight called me.

His hostility was gone.

“What’s the graffiti magic?”

“No need to know details. Just that it summons beasts.”

“Impressive.”

Knights kept talking to me.

Not all. Acknowledged, but not yet close.

Closeness required sharing a life-or-death moment.

“Your skill’s good. Trained in swordsmanship?”

“Learned from a great person. Who’s a secret.”

I answered each, entering a secluded building. A guest house, given by Derrick after my victory.

Hours remained until midnight.

I planned to restore my spent magic. Half-reclining on the bed, Gullen sat roughly on the floor, keeping distance.

“Saw? Scratched my nose and won.”

“I already acknowledge you.”

“Acknowledge more.”

“Fine.”

Gullen accepted readily.

I’d saved his life, and the three I beat were stronger than him.

“Not going?”

I asked Gullen, sitting blankly.

“I’m your guide.”

“Guiding’s done. Graffiti’s magic.”

“…”

Gullen hesitated.

“Ask if you want.”

“You won’t answer properly.”

I’d given vague answers to knights’ questions.

That sufficed for them.

“I’ll answer properly.”

Not for Gullen.

He might not understand now, but I had to tell him.

“Why don’t you chant spells?”

“Spells. Wrong term. Not grand. Just focus. Like muttering, think, think.”

“…”

“Great mages don’t open their mouths. Their imagery’s complete.”

No need to vocalize intent.

Gullen’s face crumpled, clearly lost.

Expected reaction.

But it had to be done. Fill his small head until it’s full.

Gullen was that kind of knight.

“You don’t get it, but you’re smarter than you think.”

“Why the insult?”

“…”