A sardonic smile played on my lips. "It would be my honor," I replied, the challenge accepted.

Count Chase's expression remained unreadable as Kelly, the imposing vice-captain, stepped forward. The other knights, including my parents, retreated, forming a wide berth for our impending duel.

Kelly, a hulking figure, exuded the raw power of a -rank knight. His mana reserves undoubtedly dwarfed mine. Size-wise, he mirrored Lucifer's imposing build, which could be an advantage. While his fighting style likely centered on a standard Grade 3 art, readily exploitable by my honed basic swordsmanship. This wasn't the time to unveil my fledgling mastery of the [Tempest Dance Technique].

Unlike Lucifer, Kelly's reliance on brute strength offered a potential opening. My recent Amazonian adventure, where I'd slayed a formidable 5-star beast while still a mere -rank, had instilled a wealth of combat experience. And now, at -rank, I felt a surge of cautious optimism. This duel, unlike a clash with Lucifer, wasn't an insurmountable challenge. Victory, though not guaranteed, was a distinct possibility.

We circled each other, blades bared. The air crackled with tension as we assessed each other's strengths. To my surprise, Kelly didn't hold back despite his clear mana advantage. 'A testament to the prestige of Mythos Academy,' I mused, 'and perhaps the respect Arthur had earned in his younger days.'

The duel erupted without warning. Kelly's form coiled, a spring compressed ready to unleash. A burst of fire, an aura of destruction not known for its speed, erupted around his blade as he lunged. Embers danced in the air as his longer weapon, wreathed in flame, arced towards me.

My heightened senses tracked the attack with pinpoint accuracy. A surge of lightning pulsed through my left leg, propelling me to the side. The fiery blade sang past, leaving a fleeting trail of heat in its wake.

Effortless.

A cold glint flickered in my eyes as I met Kelly's gaze. Shock contorted his features, his eyes widening at the unexpected agility I displayed. For a knight accustomed to overpowering opponents with raw strength, this simple feat must have been a jarring revelation, especially since I was at a lower mana rank than him and had less experience.

Yes, my raw talent was undeniable. Six weeks in the Amarion Forest had sharpened my senses to a degree most honed over years. This, of course, owed much to the sheer brutality of my training, but my innate talent couldn't be ignored.

'A mere stepping stone,' I thought wryly, 'to prepare for the greater threats plaguing this world.'

The surprise dodge left Kelly momentarily off-guard, closing the distance between us. A conventional swing was out of the question. Instead, I twisted, unleashing a knee strike infused with lightning aura. While weaker in raw power than fire, lightning boasted unparalleled speed. The crackling energy slammed into Kelly's fortified chest, sending him staggering back a few feet.

The choice of element wasn't random. Lightning, when delivered with just the right mana manipulation, held the potential to briefly stun an opponent. And that's precisely what happened. A flicker of hesitation crossed Kelly's face, a crucial opening I seized upon. Wind aura surged around my blade as I launched into a swift, decisive attack, a whirlwind aimed at ending the duel swiftly.

Of course, victory wasn't a foregone conclusion. With a snarl, Kelly recovered and deflected my swift attack, his blade ringing with the impact. The blow sent him back again, but a subtle shift in his stance revealed his advantage. -ranks, like Kelly, possessed a far greater ability to manipulate ambient mana, granting them a significant edge over lower ranks. This power allowed for amplified attacks and even flight, though replicating the feat at my current rank would drain my core in a heartbeat. It wasn't just a matter of quantity, but the very quality of their mana, a purer connection forged through rigorous training.

Undeterred, I pressed the offensive, my blade crackling with lightning and my movements propelled by bursts of wind aura. While Kelly's face remained inscrutable, I could sense his surprise at my unexpected versatility. Our blades met in a flurry of clangs, but a pattern began to emerge in his attacks. He transitioned into a familiar form, the Grade 3 art common amongst the knights.

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This was precisely the opening I craved. For Kelly, the art undoubtedly offered an advantage over basic swordsmanship. Against most opponents, it would be a formidable display. But I wasn't most opponents. My fundamental swordsmanship skills were near unparalleled, honed to a razor's edge. Furthermore, I'd taken the initiative to study this very art – before the rainforests, before any expectation of a duel. Why? Because I anticipated Count Chase's desire to test me, and I wanted to showcase more than just brute strength. I craved to demonstrate my own agency, not a mindless puppet dancing on his strings.

Therefore, I'd delved into the art's weaknesses, a process aided by Arthur's memories of observing knights practicing it, and even some clandestine training sessions of his own. Armed with this knowledge, my heightened senses, and my exceptional swordsmanship, exploiting its vulnerabilities wouldn't be a monumental task. The stage was set. The duel, far from over, had just entered a new, more tactical phase.

The Grade 3 art was essentially a layer of unexpected flourishes built upon basic swordsmanship. It relied on twists and turns of the blade that seemed impossible to predict for the uninitiated.

Kelly thrust forward, a feint I easily sidestepped. But that was the trap. His blade, in a seemingly unnatural contortion, whipped back towards me. Anticipating this maneuver, I spun out of reach, my own blade flashing with fire aura in a counter-strike. Before Kelly could raise his sword in defense, I detonated the fiery energy in a mini-explosion, the blast catching him off guard. Focused on parrying the blade, he hadn't fully fortified his body with mana, and the unexpected heat seared him, momentarily disrupting his movements.

Seizing this split-second advantage, I pressed the attack, driving him back with relentless force. His initial confidence faltered, his stance thrown off balance by the searing pain and my relentless assault. The tide was turning.

The duel devolved into a whirlwind of steel and fury. Kelly, stung by the surprise attack, retaliated with a ferocity born of wounded pride. His blows rained down, fueled by desperation and the raw power befitting a -rank. But my movements remained a blur, my body a conduit for the wind aura that propelled me around the training ground. Each of his telegraphed attacks, courtesy of the Grade 3 art, met only air as I weaved through the storm.

Frustration etched itself onto Kelly's face. His initial underestimation of me, fueled by the vast difference in rank, had backfired spectacularly. Now, he was forced to fight a defensive battle, his offense sputtering against my relentless assault. I harried him, exploiting the flaws in the art with a practiced ease. Every unexpected twist of his blade was met with a calculated counter, my own swordsmanship dictating the flow of the duel.

Sensing victory within reach, I channeled lightning aura into my blade once more. This time, however, I held back from detonation. Instead, I used the crackling energy to disrupt Kelly's mana flow, momentarily short-circuiting his ability to manipulate ambient mana. With this crucial advantage, I pressed my final attack. A flurry of precise cuts, fueled by the honed edge of my swordsmanship, rained down upon him. He managed to block some, deflect others, but the sheer volume of the onslaught overwhelmed him.

One particularly vicious strike found its mark, carving a shallow gash across Kelly's arm. A gasp escaped his lips, and with that, his spirit seemed to break. He stumbled back, his sword clattering to the ground with a defeated clang. Silence descended upon the training ground, broken only by our ragged breaths.

My own chest heaved with exertion. While the duel hadn't been a walk in the park, the surprise factor and my superior swordsmanship had ultimately secured victory. Across from me, Kelly stood disarmed and defeated, his face a mask of stunned disbelief.

A sharp clap drew my attention. Count Chase stood at the sidelines, a surprised smile playing on his lips. "Impressive, Arthur," he boomed, his voice tinged with genuine respect. "You bested a -rank knight before even turning 16 years old."

His praise warmed me, a flicker of pride amidst the exhaustion. But the moment was short-lived. Count Chase turned to my father, a glint in his eyes. "Now, Douglas, it's your turn to test your son."

My father's eyes widened in surprise, a reaction mirrored by my own. "May I inquire, Your Grace?" he asked, a respectful bow accompanying his question.Count Chase's gaze flicked back to me, his eyes locking with mine. "Your son hasn't revealed his full hand," he said simply. A tremor ran through me – he'd seen through me. The subtle use of circle magic to enhance my speed, a mere one-circle spell, hadn't escaped his notice. The sheer audacity of his perception in that single observation was staggering.

My father, forgoing further questions, simply stepped onto the training ground, Kelly retreating from the stage. As our eyes met, a primal sense of danger surged through me. His presence radiated a level of threat far exceeding Kelly's. This, undeniably, was a battle I wouldn't win.

But instead of despair, a different kind of smile tugged at my lips. It was a smile that acknowledged defeat as a possibility, yet yearned to push my limits, to gauge the true extent of my current abilities.

"Please, guide me, father," I said, my voice steady.