In the crowd, he spotted another familiar figure—a towering presence clad in full steel plate and a gleaming greathelm, unmistakably a high-ranking paladin. Only the insignia on the helm revealed his identity: a dragon impaled by a sword, etched in intricate relief—a mark reserved for fewer than fifty elite paladins across the realm.
The emblem caught the sunlight, casting a faint crimson glint that seemed almost alive.
Despite the festival's strict security, the paladin bore his full armor and weapons openly—an undeniable, silent declaration of the church's formidable power. Even Lucien and Arthur had entered unarmed, their ranks and status as frontier vassals insufficient to command such liberties.
Arthur, noticing Lucien's distracted stare, broke the silence with a concerned tone.
"Are you okay?"
Lucien laughed softly, the sound low and knowing, as if amused by an unseen chess move. "It seems I see a different challenger approaching."
Without hesitation, he strode past Arthur toward the edge of the chalked arena, eyes locking onto the paladin through the parting crowd. The spectators instinctively made way, the air thick with anticipation as Lucien's grin widened—a silent provocation, hyping the crowd for the confrontation to come.
Now face-to-face, Lucien and the paladin exchanged steely gazes, the tension between them crackling like static in the electric air. The onlookers leaned forward, the festival's usual cheer tempered by the gravity of the moment.
"You wish to fight me, demon?" The words were spat with venom, as though merely addressing Lucien was both an insult and a violation of sacred honor.
Arthur cleared his throat, stepping forward to diffuse the escalating hostility. "Relax, I don't think calling this man a demon suits him."
His hands rested cautiously on Lucien's shoulders, wincing slightly from the lingering pain in his side.
The paladin's voice cut through, sharp and authoritative.
"Silence, Marquess."
"Your title of Sword Saint holds no weight before the church,"
He added, eyes burning with conviction.
"So do not act so relaxed in my presence."
A heavy silence fell over the crowd. Trent City remained firmly under the church's thumb, its baron known for lavish donations and unwavering loyalty. The audience's gaze shifted nervously between the two men, awaiting the inevitable.
"Demon? Please. You're just throwing insults."
The paladin responded with a sharp, audible 'tsk,' stepping forward without hesitation. His armored gauntlets pushed Lucien hard, shoving him back to the edge of the chalked boundary. With deliberate menace, he stepped inside the arena, unsheathing his sword with a harsh, metallic rasp that silenced the murmurs.
Arthur moved to intervene, but the paladin was faster—delivering a brutal smash with his gauntleted fist that sent Arthur reeling. Already weakened, Arthur had no chance to defend himself and crumpled to the ground with a pained grunt.
Lucien raised an eyebrow, expression hardening as he stooped to reclaim his sword from the dirt. His voice was sharp, laced with both incredulity and authority.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you not understand the consequences of attacking a duke and a marquess?"
The paladin laughed, removing his greathelm to reveal striking red hair and unnervingly pale white eyes. Paladin Oscar Jaunez of the renowned Jaunez Family.
This bastard...?
Even in my past life, he hated me. Even now, before I've even begun my rebellion, that hatred still burns.
What the hell is going on?
The paladin's glare sharpened, dark and unyielding, as if Lucien had just sliced through a hidden nerve. His eyes burned with fierce condemnation.
"And you have the gall to say that after everything you did?" His voice was low, laced with bitter accusation, reverberating with the weight of judgment.
"You truly deserve to be struck down where you stand."
With deliberate precision, he gripped his sword with both hands, raising it into the Vom Tag stance—blade held high above his shoulder like the hammer of divine judgment itself. His feet were planted solidly in the dirt, muscles coiled and ready, every fiber tense with righteous fury, poised to unleash a strike meant to cleanse through steel and spirit alike.
Lucien's response was a sharp, incredulous laugh, dark amusement flickering behind his crimson eyes as his fingers tightened around his sword's hilt.
"It seems like I have to beat the information out of you, then."