Field Marshall Brezveck grinned as Lawrence said that, tossing his helmet aside, revealing beads of perspiration all over his face. In fact, even his own soldiers haven't seen him break a sweat over several bouts of sparring. The old lion was grinning, not because he felt a thrill running through him.

He couldn't let his men know the fear he was feeling right now. That pale complexion he had wasn't from the adrenaline, but from the fact that he had no idea how Lawrence had survived every blow he had dealt that would have skewered even his toughest and boldest subordinates.

And now, he was to hear that Lawrence had barely been serious. This means that he would be dead in a bout or two. Brezveck had always knew that he would probably die on the field of battle, but not as someone on the losing side of the battle. Maybe a stray arrow fired by a desperate archer would strike him down right as they raised his proud nation's flag, but not like this.

The sound of the frontlines were coming closer. Not a good sign. This meant that Brezveck only had one chance. He had to kill or seriously injure Lawrence so that his own men can finish him off.

Right now, it seems like a pipe dream.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Brezveck tightened his hold on his scimitars and lunged forward again, slamming a single blade against the tower shield and aiming to sweep him off his feet in a falling kick. His feet connected as he fell, slamming into Lawrence. However, Lawrence did not fall. Instead, he saw a tower shield shoving him, throwing him back several feet, kicking dirt and sand into his face.

The old lion coughed, spitting out dirt from his mouth. Suddenly, almost as if Lawrence had moved with superhuman speed, the tower shield connected directly into his face. The pain sent Brezveck yelling as he reeled backwards slamming into one of his own men.

Brezveck staggered to his feet, only one scimitar left in his hand.

With wild abandon, Brezveck charged, screaming as he dashed forward but he saw a blueish flame from a sword that Lawrence had.

"With dignity, please..." Brezveck whispered and he thought he saw Lawrence blink a few moments.

Suddenly the shield that was guarding him seemed loosely held. Brezveck dealt a singular blow that made Lawrence stagger a bit, revealing a chest plate that Brezveck knew he had no chance of cutting. Yet, he still stabbed, throwing his whole weight into the blow.

He connected with the metal and he felt a massive pain in his abdomen as Lawrence plunged his blade into the elderly commander's stomach.

"T-Thank you..." Brezveck whispered as Lawrence held onto the gentleman as he fell to the ground.

Seeing their commander fall, the Gerheist soldiers began to rout, as Lawrence sat with Brezveck, the elderly man whimpering.