Chapter 116 – Duel on the Third Day: Fenrir vs Falkenhain
The sun rose higher over the horizon, its rays piercing through the thin fog still hanging over the battlefield stained with blood. The wet earth, covered in horse tracks and the footprints of thousands of soldiers, was mixed with pools of mud and the remains of fallen men from previous days. Carrion birds circled overhead, their black wings signaling this land was nothing but a stage for death.
In the midst of the tension, a booming voice cut through the silence.
"Enough!" roared a towering man, his steps shaking the ground. His sharp gaze, his broad body clad in silver armor engraved with the sigil of a steel lion, made him impossible to ignore. He was Baron Falkenhain von Eisenmark, lord of one of the strongest border baronies.
"Fenrir Eisenwald! You who call yourself the Crimson Wolf! Step forward and face me!"
His voice thundered, echoing across the ranks, reaching even the furthest line of both armies. Thousands of heads turned toward the seventeen-year-old youth standing tall at the Eisenwald front. The longsword at his side reflected the sunlight, his eyes burned with an unwavering resolve.
Fenrir stepped forward without hesitation. Eisenwald's soldiers roared in support, yet he never turned his head. His gaze was locked solely on the man across the field. Step by step, an open circle formed—both armies pulled back, leaving only blood-soaked ground as the arena.
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[Status Panel – Fenrir Eisenwald]
Name: Fenrir Eisenwald
Age: 17
Level: 19
EXP: 28,000 / 34,000
Aura: 180
Stamina: 190
Strength: 145
Cunning: 255
Charisma: 160
Mental Fortitude: 210
Skills:
[Aura Control Lv.4]
[Swordsmanship Lv.4]
[Leadership Lv.4]
[Tactical Instinct Lv.4]
[Passive – Legacy of Strategies]
Traits:
[Wounds That Shape]
[Lord of the Marsh]
[Crimson Wolf's Resolve]
---
[Status Panel – Baron Falkenhain von Eisenmark]
Age: 45
Level: 20
EXP: 40,500 / 45,000
Aura: 170
Stamina: 210
Strength: 165
Cunning: 180
Charisma: 150
Mental Fortitude: 190
Skills:
[Aura Control Lv.4]
[Greatsword Mastery Lv.4]
[Intimidation Lv.3]
Traits:
[Iron Bastion] – increases physical defense by +20%
[Veteran of a Hundred Battles] – vast experience stabilizes morale and mental fortitude
---
Fenrir unsheathed his blade. Crimson aura, thick like glowing embers, crept along the steel. Across from him, Falkenhain drew his massive greatsword, grayish aura spreading around him like solid iron pressing down on the air.
"You're just a boy," Falkenhain mocked, lowering his stance. "I'll shatter your resolve in front of your soldiers."
Fenrir didn't answer. He simply raised his blade with one hand while setting his body low—simple, efficient, confident.
The clash exploded like thunder when they charged and their swords collided. The ground quaked, dust and mud shot outward. The sound of metal against metal roared like a storm, forcing both armies to step back.
Fenrir staggered three steps, his boots sinking into the mud, but he didn't fall. Falkenhain's lips curved into a thin smile, eyes narrowing with mixed surprise and satisfaction.
---
Fenrir slashed sideways, quick and sharp. Falkenhain parried easily, his raw strength pressing down like a mountain. The greatsword's weight almost numbed Fenrir's hands.
But Fenrir persisted. He didn't rely only on strength—he relied on speed, angles, and calculation. His horizontal slash turned into a sudden thrust, forcing Falkenhain to step back.
A thin line of blood marked Falkenhain's chest. Eisenwald's soldiers roared, their morale igniting. Yet Falkenhain's smile only widened.
"Good," he said coldly. "But that's just a scratch. Now, taste real strength."
Falkenhain surged forward, his swing a deafening arc that tore the air. Fenrir blocked, his body thrown back, his shoulder grazed. Blood seeped down his sleeve.
The enemy soldiers erupted in cheers, while Fenrir simply wiped the blood with the back of his hand, grinning faintly. "You're slow," he muttered.
---
Clash after clash rang out, steel against steel dozens of times. Dust, mud, and sparks of aura scattered everywhere. Every soldier held their breath—each blow felt decisive.
Fenrir's mind sharpened. He always leaves his right side open after a vertical swing. If I can bait him, he'll expose it again.
He waited. When the greatsword came down, Fenrir spun right and countered. His blade cut Falkenhain's arm, leaving a visible wound.
Eisenwald roared in triumph, chanting: "Crimson Wolf! Crimson Wolf!"
On the other side, Falkenhain's men faltered. They had never seen their lord bleed from a boy's strike. Whispers of doubt spread among them.
---
The duel paused for a heartbeat. Both men stood with heavy breaths. Fenrir's shoulder dripped blood, his grip unbroken. Falkenhain's hand bled, yet his stance remained firm, though his eyes had sharpened.
"I'll admit, boy… you're no ordinary foe," Falkenhain said lowly.
Fenrir smirked faintly despite the tremor in his arms. "I've seen enough. You'll fall."
The soldiers erupted again, but the fight was far from over—the tension rose to its peak, every man knowing the next exchange would be even more brutal.
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[Stat Update]
Fenrir Eisenwald
EXP: 28,000 → 27,600 (−400 due to wounds and fatigue)
Aura: 180 → 165 (−15)
Stamina: 190 → 172 (−18)
Baron Falkenhain
EXP: 40,500 → 39,900 (−600 due to wounds and pressure)
Aura: 170 → 155 (−15)
Stamina: 210 → 192 (−18)
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