[Now the battle has truly begun. Drag your better half out Titus Magnus.]
For the first time since Count Albert dropped his hand, Ashton leaned forward in his seat. He only foresaw with certainty up until this point, what would happen next rode on Titus's own understanding.
The burst of Titus's mana was unimpressive. Amateurish, even to untrained eyes.
But as the heavy concentration of his mana ran down from the point of his sword and dug into the full blade, like a hand sliding into a glove, every spectator shuddered.
None more so than Carlos. He was caught with his sword high and his chest open.
[How is that possible?] He thought as he twisted his hips and stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding his lungs from impalement.
But Titus's sword followed.
A cut coming from his left and right near simultaneously, [How is he matching my speed...]
"Father..." Darian couldn't believe his eyes. "This is..."
"History." Count Albert responded. "Etch it into your mind."
[This can't be happening... he is third rate] The momentum of the fight was crushing Carlos. He couldn't be described as defending, he was surviving.
Every clash of their swords, flowed through his wrist and loosened his grip on his weapon.
Yet it was the pain he felt in his bones that bloomed from his wrist to elbow that finally cleared his mind.
He realized Titus wasn't truly overpowering him, that in his shaken state his mana was unsummoned.
Aaron leapt from his chair, toppling it backward as his knees struck the wood. "What are you doing, Lieutenant?!" He roared.
The emotion in his lord's voice had flipped the switch.
Carlos's mana surged through his body and nested along his blade.
Count Albert turned to his wife and whispered, "As impressive as that child is, this fight is over."
Titus turned his palm towards the sky and stabbed at the heart of his opponent.
The sword which briefly felt like it carried the weight of ten men, was now slow and light in Carlos's eyes.
He took a half step to his right and caught the attack between his arm and body.
Then with superior strength, he spun around, ripping the sword from Titus's hands and drove his elbow directly into the jaw of Titus.
He fell to the ground and watched as Carlos tossed his sword to the opposite side of the square.
Carlos didn't hesitate or boast, he lifted his sword in full vigilance despite Titus being undefended.
Duels progressed until one side either died or was rendered unfit for combat, and Titus was still conscious.
Everybody looked towards Ashton as Carlos dropped his sword. He had the power to lower himself and throw away his honor to end the duel. And it would have been worth it to save such a talented knight.
But the only muscle of Ashtons that moved was his mouth.
He smiled and thought [Here it is...] as he looked upon Titus.
His eyes were narrow, peering upward seemingly through Carlos as he licked the blood from his hands. Like a tiger at its watering spot.
The burning red eyes beneath him, full of defiance and naked of fear, invigorated Carlos. He put more than strength and mana into his sword, he put all of his emotions into it. The dishonor of striking a defeated and unarmed knight, the insults and mockery, even the humiliation he suffered under Ashton's mana.
The descent of his sword was the return of pain.
It was supposed to be release.
But as he aimed for the skull of Titus, his sword was not met with bone and brain, it had hit the concrete of the sparring square.
Titus had vanished. Only those ready to witness death itself saw him flash from one side of the square to the other.
[Not again...] Carlos's eyes widened as the memory of Titus's mana took a hold of his mind.
By the time he turned around, Titus was already within range with his sword ready to fly.
Titus's arms were crossed, his elbows which met in front of his face only revealed his red and thirsting eyes, like the mask of an assassin.
He was like a wraith in Carlos's mind, dragged directly from the pits of hell to deliver death to him personally.
The sword, inches from his face, felt alive. Carlos could feel it breath, he could see its pulse, and it was hungry.
It was dreading.
Again, he was only left to his survival instincts. The supernatural being in front of him had stolen his wit and honor. Pushed him into a corner, that he threw his body to the floor and rolled as if he was burning to escape from.
The sight would normally rise laughter among the spectating knights. To roll along the ground like a pig in its sty, was the highest form of indignity. Most knights would rather meet whatever had pushed him that far on their feet or die trying. But no one could find humor in the duel.
The only reaction from the crowd was the seated rising to their feet, and a collective gulping of dry throats.
Even Ashton was surprised with the development of the battle.
Titus's full body was enhanced in mana in matching fashion with his sword. The skill he was displaying could no longer be explained by talent or a constitution unrivaled by his peers.
No, Titus was an anomaly. Technical application and manifestation beyond his realm.
If he could put his power into words, he would start a magical revolution.
[History...] Darian thought to himself as he shattered the glass in his hand.
As Carlos rolled, he found his feet with urgency. He was readying a defensive posture as he expected to be hunted.
But Titus was standing tall and motionless. His sword was hidden behind him, and his free hand was raised in challenge.
[It took me too long to figure it out... Master Ashton had showed me the method to enhance my eyes, but it was much more complicated to "mold" my mana around the rest... if I wasn't so focused on trying, I would have never suffered these injuries...]
Despite the accomplishment and his miracle still in motion, Titus was unsatisfied. Since the moment he left the dark training room with Ashton, he was trying to enhance his body with his mana. It ate the majority of his concentration and wasted much of his mana. His mana enveloped sword was weak due to this, unable to break the desperate defense of Carlos's unenhanced technique.
But he was here now. And he wanted to meet his opponent at their best.
Countess Emily grabbed her husband's arm, "Why is he mocking his opponent? It is heinous to treat his own life so poorly..." She asked with a pale face.
"That's not it. He is demanding excellence from himself. He could have beheaded his opponent while he was down... but he is stating that his ability means nothing if he cannot truly exchange with his foe."
Carlos recognized that the duel had entered a second beginning, that Titus was not mocking him but only testing his awakening.
It was calming. His knightly blood started to rinse as his warrior spirit rose.
He respected Titus.
They both had the same ability but were still unequal, and they both knew it.
Yet Titus welcomed the possibility of death. He sought the fire of temperance.
"My name is Carlos of House Raine. Lieutenant of the 5th Division Knightage."
"Titus Magnus. The Golden Knight."
Each side took a single step and met in the center of the square.
Their swords resonated a small shockwave of dispersed mana, and Titus was forced backwards.
Carlos dropped his hips, his sword slid off the edge of Titus's and cut across his armored chest plate, leaving a gash in its metal that would have been fatal if it met flesh instead.
In response, Titus hiked his knee upward into the chin of Carlos, but he caught it with his free hand and threw his shoulder into Titus's stomach.
The impact caused Titus to stumble backwards and spit blood from his mouth as his broken ribs had pierced his lungs.
His shallow breath grew into wheezing, as if he was breathing through a straw, but his eyes remained clear.
Carlos could see his reflection as he lunged forward, he could see the shimmer of his mana dancing inside of the still waters of Titus's eye.
And Titus could see the angle Carlos's sword would take.
Titus let go of the mana holding his body together and focused everything he had left into his sword, the moment Carlos got close.
Carlos's sword which was aimed at the neck of Titus was too high. Without the support of his mana, Titus had hunched over from the wear in his body.
He didn't dodge. He didn't even attack.
Yet the sword he held out in front of him with his last remaining ounce of will, had broken the armor of Carlos.
It was horrifying yet beautiful to the many. Frustrating to Aaron and saddening to his men.
Carlos had ran directly into the sword Titus held out with shaky hands. He dropped his sword and looked down at his chest, the sword inside of it was streaming his blood down its edge.
Then he looked into Titus eyes, no longer were they clear and reflective, but glossed over in the haze of his exhaustion.
"I will never forget you. Sir Carlos." Titus mumbled to him.
It was the respect of junior, but beyond that it was the goodbye of a victor.
It had set in Carlos's mind what his body had already known, and he shed a tear as he fell onto his back.