Late night.
Marshal's Mansion.
Duke's guest room.
Even though it was already deep into the night, the lights in Duke's room still blazed brightly.
Wearing protective goggles, Duke was busy welding a circular shield before him. Its inner surface was lined with precise wiring, divided neatly into multiple modules.
When the last wire was soldered into place, he began the final step.
"With this, it's finally complete!"
Finishing the shield with perfect precision, Duke glanced at the hammer by his side, a smug grin spreading across his face.
"All that's left now is tomorrow's preliminaries!"
That afternoon, his meeting with Jarvan III had not only finalized the Hexgate construction plan, it had also revealed the king's deeper intentions.
More importantly, Duke had managed to pitch quite a number of his products, landing a hefty order that refilled his wallet handsomely.
Next on the agenda was the Grand Tournament of Glory—where he would make a name for himself.
Except Duke had no intention of treating it as a proper match. What he really wanted was to let these Demacians witness the power of technology.
"Everything will be revealed tomorrow."
Yawning, Duke casually set his equipment for tomorrow on the study table, then retired to the bedroom.
The night passed without incident.
The next afternoon.
Angela drove the carriage out of the Marshal's Mansion, with Duke and Lux riding along.
They had to reach the arena—where Duke had signed up the day before—before the tenth bell. His first match was scheduled for three in the afternoon.
The Grand Tournament of Glory, being a nationwide competition in Demacia, naturally drew tremendous attention.
The final championship matches, in particular, were so significant that King Jarvan III himself would personally attend and bless the contenders.
But as an outsider, Duke had to first fight through the preliminary round against other foreign entrants, vying for a spot in the main event.
Why weren't his opponents Demacians?
Simple—he was the guest here, and had to respect the host's rules.
Half an hour later, they reached the arena. Duke instructed Lux to settle Angela and the carriage, while he carried the weapons he had finished last night and strode in ahead of her.
Guided by staff through a side entrance, he was led backstage to the competitors' area.
Backstage wasn't anything grand—just a row of changing rooms for participants to don their armor and prepare their weapons before going onstage.
Taking his seat, Duke glanced at his shield and warhammer, a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Meanwhile—
Lux had also taken her seat in the audience. Though she could have used her family's Crestguard privileges to secure a private room, she chose not to. Instead, she joined the common folk on the tiered stands.
Seated, she glanced at the commentator's booth, waiting eagerly for Duke's appearance.
"Is this seat taken?"
A cold voice reached her ears. Lux turned politely, replying, "No, please go ahead."
"Hm."
The speaker was a woman in a black mantle, her hair tied into a ponytail. Her lips—whether painted with lipstick or naturally so—were strikingly crimson.
Her pair of blue-green eyes radiated a chilling indifference.
"What is it, little girl? Do I look strange to you?"
Vayne had immediately noticed Lux's gaze. Sensitive to prying eyes, she caught the young girl staring a moment too long.
"N-no, forgive me!"
Lux quickly turned away, focusing back on the stage. Vayne, disinterested, dropped the matter. She was here for one reason: to see what that damn bastard was planning.
That night outside Mithril City, she had lost what was most precious to a woman.
She had thought herself indifferent to such things. Yet afterwards, she had found herself shaken and confused.
She had paused her hunts and returned to the capital, to her old home, hoping time would dull the wound. But fate played cruel tricks—yesterday, when she visited the arena intending to observe a duel for study, perhaps even for amusement, she had unexpectedly seen him again.
That bastard.
Just recalling the smug look on his face afterwards made Vayne want to drive three silver bolts straight into his chest.
"What do you mean, 'you're not the one who suffered'?"
Bastard!
At their first encounter, she had forgotten all else and followed him, prying into his purpose. And now, inexplicably, she had come again today, determined to see what that bastard would do this time.
Dong!
The resonant toll of the great bell echoed across the capital—the tenth bell had struck.
Snapping back from her thoughts, Vayne turned her attention to the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The announcer's booming voice carried across the arena through a crude sound amplifier.
"The tenth bell has sounded! Now, let us welcome a duel presented by a warrior from foreign lands!!"
With his proclamation, a massive warrior cloaked in furs strode out from one end of the arena tunnel, a great warhammer slung effortlessly in his grasp.
"First to enter the field—Rex, the berserker from Lokfar!!"
As Rex emerged, Duke also walked up the shadowed tunnel. Carrying his shield upon his back, he glanced back at the dim passage and muttered wryly, "The conditions here leave much to be desired."
"No grand entrance, no flourish—just letting duelists trudge out of a tunnel by themselves. What a pain."
Shaking his head, Duke stepped onto the stage. The announcer's voice rang out again:
"And here we have Duke Sanchez of Piltover! An excellent craftsman—though why he has chosen to enter the arena remains a mystery. Let's wish him luck!"
The announcer's quip drew laughter from the stands, though Lux flushed red and cheered as loudly as she could.
"Go, Brother Duke! You can do it!"
Vayne, seated beside her, raised an eyebrow at the girl's outburst. Leaning closer, she asked in a low voice, "You know him?"
"Yes. He's my teacher!"
"...Heh."
Vayne arched a brow, then turned back to the stage.
"Alright then, without further delay, let the duel begin!"
"For Demacia!!"
The announcer's rousing cry echoed across the arena.
With a savage grin, Rex hefted his massive warhammer in both hands. "Little man, let's see if you can avoid becoming a smear of meat paste!"
"I only hope you won't start crying later," Duke shot back, unfazed.
He pulled the round shield from his back. It gleamed with red-and-white stripes and a shining five-pointed star at the center.
Yes—Duke had shamelessly copied Captain America's shield!
Go on, sue me if you can!
Weighing his short-handled warhammer in his right hand, Duke quickly ran through the duel's rules in his head.
Killing was forbidden. The first to lose the ability to resist would be deemed defeated.
Or, if an opponent surrendered voluntarily.
Any injuries sustained, however, were entirely on the fighters to endure.
"Raaah!!"
With a thunderous roar, Rex charged, swinging his warhammer in a wide arc.
Duke calmly tapped the microphone hidden on his collar, ensuring his voice carried across the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The sudden clarity of his voice startled the audience. How could a mere craftsman from Piltover sound so loud, so clear?
"Allow me to present my latest invention!"
As the warhammer bore down on him, Duke showed no panic. Instead, he raised his shield at the perfect angle, intercepting the blow.
"What you're hearing now is thanks to the Hextech Voice Amplifier. With it, you no longer need to shout until your throat is raw. Just speak into the mic, and even someone a hundred meters away will hear you clearly!"
"Honestly, I'd say our announcer could really use one of these."
The announcer, who had just been gulping water to soothe his strained throat, froze. If this device truly worked as Duke claimed, he absolutely needed one.
"Enough chit-chat. Let's look at this shield!"
Bang!
Rex's hammer smashed against Duke's shield, but Duke had already predicted the strike and raised his arm in time.
"This shield is called Shameless!"
...
Duke's voice echoed proudly through the arena. "Yes, that's exactly the word you're thinking of!"
"The Shameless Shield is fitted with a shock-absorbing mechanism that reduces incoming force—and can even strike back!"
At his words, crackling arcs of electricity danced across the shield's surface, leaping from Rex's hammer to his arms.
"Argh!!"
With a scream, Rex dropped his weapon instinctively. Duke flicked his arm, and the shield flew forward, slamming into Rex's chest.
"And it can be thrown—without ever worrying about retrieving it!"
The shield rebounded automatically, snapping back into Duke's grasp. Keen-eyed spectators noticed his hand had never let go of the grip.
"And of course, that's not all it can do."
He hurled the shield again. It ricocheted off the arena wall and slammed into Rex's shoulder before returning smoothly to Duke's hand.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Shameless Shield!"
Raising his right-hand weapon, Duke continued, "And this little beauty is the Despicable Warhammer!"
"It delivers strikes your enemies will never expect!"
With a flick, the hammerhead detached, shooting out and slamming into Rex's gut. Doubling over, Rex growled through clenched teeth, "D-despicable!"
"Exactly. That's why it's called Despicable."
With a snap, the hammerhead reeled back into place, pulled by its wire.
"The Despicable Warhammer can be launched like a flail"
He swung it wide. The hammerhead flew out, cracking Rex squarely on the forehead.
"—and it can deliver a shocking surprise!"
Pressing a switch, Duke triggered a surge of electricity from the hammerhead. Rex screamed, convulsing violently before collapsing, eyes rolled back and froth bubbling from his lips.
"Best of all, these weapons are entirely handmade—no magic, no enchantments, just pure science!"
"Perfect companions for travel, self-defense, or plunder!"
As Duke's voice boomed across the arena, Rex lay twitching on the ground, completely incapacitated.
The entire arena fell silent—its first stunned hush since the tournament's founding.
End of chapter....
IRONBOUND PATRON
🔹 Hexcore Initiate – 15 chapters ahead
🔸 Arc Reactor Elite – 35 chapters + 3 BONUS CHAPTERS + HIDDEN SURPRISES
👉 patreon.com/MrBehringer