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Chapter 4: Shadows of Destiny

Within the grand halls of the Zulter estate, whispers of the third son's audacious bet swirled like shadows dancing in the flickering torchlight. Servants bustled about their tasks, casting furtive glances and exchanging hushed murmurs as they speculated about the impending duel.

"He thinks he can best an orc in single combat? Ha!" scoffed one of the maids, her voice laced with skepticism as she swept the marble floors. "He's in for a rude awakening."

Her companion nodded in agreement, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes as she replied, "Indeed. It's madness to challenge such a foe."

Meanwhile, in the training grounds, the knights sparred with renewed vigor, their blades clashing and echoing through the crisp morning air. As they honed their skills, they spoke in hushed tones of the third son's folly.

"He's a fool to think he stands a chance against an orc," remarked one of the seasoned warriors, his voice gruff with disdain. "He'll be lucky to walk away from this duel with his dignity intact."

His comrades nodded in agreement, their expressions grim as they contemplated the inevitable outcome of the young master's brash challenge.

In the study, the eldest and second sons of the Zulter family exchanged knowing looks as they discussed their brother's reckless behavior.

"He always just a useless person ," remarked the eldest son, a wry smile playing at his lips.

The second son, ever the pragmatist, shook his head in disbelief. "To think he would risk everything for a mere duel. He truly has lost his senses."

For three long months, the third son of the Zulter family immersed himself in the secluded chamber, his every waking moment consumed by the ancient teachings of the Heavenly Demon book. With relentless determination, he honed his skills, delving deep into the darkest depths of the tome to unlock the secrets of the Death Stance.

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As the day of the duel drew near, a servant was dispatched to deliver the fateful news to the third son . As the servant approached the door to the chamber where the third son had secluded himself for three long months, a sense of dread washed over him like a tidal wave. His steps faltered, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated to deliver the fateful news.

The air around the door crackled with an ominous energy, thick and suffocating, as if the very atmosphere itself rebelled against the presence within. The servant struggled to draw breath, his lungs constricted by the oppressive force that emanated from the chamber.

With trembling hands, the servant raised a fist to knock on the door, but before he could make contact, a sudden wave of darkness engulfed him, swallowing him whole in its chilling embrace. He gasped for air, his chest tight with fear as he fought against the suffocating pressure.

"It is time, my lord," he managed to choke out, his voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the swirling shadows.

But as he spoke, the darkness seemed to coil around him, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. His vision blurred, his head swimming with dizziness as he struggled to remain upright in the face of the overwhelming force.

For the third son's power was unlike anything the servant had ever encountered, a raw and primal energy that threatened to consume him whole. It was as if the very fabric of reality bent to the will of the young master, twisting and contorting in a maelstrom of chaos and destruction.

With one final gasp, the servant staggered back from the door, his strength failing him as he collapsed to the ground in a heap. He knew that he could go no further, that to venture into the chamber would be to court certain death.

And so, with a trembling heart and a sense of impending doom, the servant awaited the third son's response, praying silently that he would emerge unscathed from the dark abyss that lay beyond.

"Is it finally the day?" came the third son's calm and measured response, his tone betraying none of the tumultuous emotions that churned within him.

The servant's heart skipped a beat at the sound of his master's voice, his fear momentarily forgotten in the face of the third son's unwavering resolve.

"Yes, my lord," the servant managed to gasp out, his voice barely above a whisper. "The day of the duel has arrived."

TO be continued