Facing the seven-foot-tall Duke of Aset now wasn't the same as facing him two months ago.
Back then—and after a beating—Konrad could't have thought of anything more terrifying. He was huge, had all the power of a noble, and, well, Konrad was in bed, wrapped in bandages.
Today, he felt so much more confident.
Lord Schwertburg was the size of Welf, and he already knew how to deal with the blacksmith.
In fact, he doubted a noble could ever match his friend's strength.
Well, Count Rolalt surprised him, so underestimating him seemed like a bad idea, too.
But he also had magic.
"Go all out, boy," the duke yelled, clutching that curious amulet in his palm.
Yeah, the Count also had something like that, but since he didn't use his spells then, it never triggered. It didn't take too much imagination to know it would neutralise his magic, but—
"How about a firebolt?" he asked, launching fist-sized flames at the noble.
Nothing that could kill him, even by accident.
Whether they used real blades or not, this was a test of strength, not murder.
The tiny fireballs materialised as normal, but before reaching the duke, they scattered. The audience—since everyone wanted to see their bout—yelped, jumping back a few steps.
"Hmm, let's see a lightning, then," Konrad mumbled, casting one of his new spells.
He spent almost a month in Gabby's time bubbles by now, reading through all the books Zoltan produced. He couldn't wait to put all the new magic formulas to the test.
The static electricity in the air all rushed to his palm, then discharged with a loud zap.
Again, it missed despite his perfect aim, scorching the pavement a few feet from the duke.
"What's that, boy? Your spells seem useless," Lord Schwertburg taunted him. "I told you, magic isn't everything when facing a real warrior."
"I'm testing your artifact, My Lord," he yelled back. "I'm only getting started."
He guessed that the amulet redirected his mana, rather than cancelling his spells.
The firebolts, the lightning, they still caused some damage; he'd only lose control of them at one point. If he didn't aim his spells inside that small radius, the duke couldn't affect his magic.
And while he could've glassed the square—heck, the entire city—it would have been overkill.
No, he had a simple spell in mind. Something he could always rely on.
He summoned light. Infrared. Focus it in a cone, around six feet away from the duke.
Repeat it five times to make up for the extra distance, and his Isekai Microwave was ready to bring heat to the party. While his spell remained invisible, the result was obvious at a glance.
Duke Schwertburg was sweating bullets in his armour, even before the melee started.
"On second thought," Konrad smirked. "Since you can't do magic, let's fight fair."
'You and fair,' Lily snorted in his mind. 'You're being nasty, Konny sweetie, and I love it.'
Of course, she would. But underhanded or not, at least this wouldn't kill Gabrielle's father.
The duke must have known something was up, but rather than complaining, he attacked.
Konrad knew better than to stand in the way of his greatsword. He ducked underneath to get close—but his own bastard sword was also too big to use in close quarters.
Not his pommel, though.
He smashed the noble in the stomach with it, and the duke fell on his back with a loud clatter.
The audience gasped. Lord Schwertburg was panting, too, but he wasn't about to quit.
"You and your tricks, kid," he gritted out, struggling to get back on his feet.
"What tricks? I'm faster than you, that's all," Konrad claimed, swinging his sword in the air. "Or are you saying, I'm using some hidden magic on you? With your oh-so-great amulet, that's—"
The duke didn't let him finish, charging in with a battle cry.
His age was showing, and with the heat, he was much slower than Count Rolalt.
Sidestepping him was easy, and in passing, Konrad whacked him in the back with the flat of his blade. The duke fell—again—his armour throwing sparks on the pavement.
"You cursed me," the man claimed, pushing himself off the ground with a groan.
"What's the difference between curses and magic?" Konrad asked—a genuine question, but it sounded like a mockery. "Is your amulet picky about what spells it blocks and whatnot?"
The next burst of strength the duke showcased surprised him.
He wasn't even back on his feet yet, but his blade swung across the square and almost swiped Konrad's legs. It was too early to write the old man down, forcing him on the back foot.
'I'd say you played enough,' Gabrielle noted. 'If you upset him, he'll become bitter.'
A fair warning.
Konrad only wanted to show everyone that he wasn't someone they could mess with.
He didn't want to continue the generational rivalry or make new enemies. What he needed was an absolute victory that left no open questions, not a tricky one, that was humiliating.
He dismissed his infrared heat sources, swinging his sword again.
"Aight, demonstration's over," he claimed, giving the duke time to recover. "I've found your artifact's limitations and showed them to you. Now it's time to fight with honesty."
With the heat gone, the duke's movements seemed lighter; his anger evaporating.
"Crafty little kid," he groaned. "I'll admit you won the first round. But this isn't over yet."
Taking only one deep breath to recover, he rushed in with another swing.
Konrad was well prepared, knocking the blade away before it gained enough momentum.
In close quarters, he tried the same pommel trick, but the duke's gauntlet knocked out all the air from his lungs. Amateur mistake, but nothing he couldn't recover from.
Except the duke didn't wait for him.
His blade was already coming down, and it was past the point where he could stop it.
Sidestep, and swing—too short, but it broke the noble's momentum.
'You sure you want to play fair with him?' Lily asked, her thoughts tinged with concern.
'He'd better, or the nobles would treat him as a crafty cheater,' the angel replied in his stead.
As if Konrad had a tiny angel and a devil arguing on his shoulders.
But comical as it was, he had to focus on the fight. Things got more intense with every passing second. The old man wasn't as fast as Welf, but despite his earlier tricks, he kept up his attacks.
Their outfit was't a good match.
The bastard sword was a bit too short to engage at range, while too bulky for close-quarters.
The full plates couldn't protect him from a full swing, yet slowed him too much to avoid one.
If he had time to prepare, he would've picked a different setup, but it was too late now.
And having experienced true harem life right before the bout did not help his stamina, either.
Did he become overconfident? It wouldn't have been the first time.
But he wasn't out of options yet.
While he said he wouldn't use magic that exploited the duke's weaknesses—
He said nothing about using spells on himself.
And from all the codices, he learned some interesting ones he was eager to test for a while.