The Sword of Damocles
The sword hung in the air like a blade suspended in the sky, so massive that it could rival the size of half the dueling platform. Its tip pointed directly at Damon.
Under Rien's control, the Sword of Damocles slowly shrank, drifting lazily toward him. Rien cupped the blade in his right hand, holding it gently as it hovered above his palm.
The mages in the stands were left speechless, their mouths agape in astonishment. They couldn't believe what they were seeing.
The Sword of Damocles, a first-tier ultimate single-target spell.
It was recorded in the Mage Tower as one of the most powerful magics at the first-tier level, with enough destructive force to severely injure any second-tier mage.
However, the major downside was the enormous amount of magical energy required. In most cases, a first-tier mage would have to exhaust all their magic and vitality to construct the spell circle and unleash it. For this reason, it was called a "single-target magic."
The mages couldn't help but marvel at Rien's manipulation of the light sword. Was this really something a first-tier novice mage could do?
Not only was Rien controlling the sword, but he was also shrinking it, making it more potent.
Anasen, watching Rien wield the sword, stared in astonishment. Is this my son?
Brant clenched his fists tightly. The moment the light sword appeared, he knew Damon was doomed.
The floating sword in Rien's hand was smaller than Damon's, but the power it contained made Damon feel as if he were facing a wild beast.
The concentration required to maintain the Sword of Damocles made Rien's face pale. Though his immense magical recovery speed, thanks to the Abyss, allowed him to barely use the spell, it still drained him greatly. The toll wasn't just physical—it was mental as well.
Even the faint golden aura enveloping Rien seemed weaker.
"Damon, it's over."
Rien pointed the sword at Damon, and the Sword of Damocles slowly shot toward him.
Seeing the sword coming, Damon froze as if he were the prey of a ferocious beast. His body was paralyzed by some instinctive fear.
Move, Damon! You're the pride of the Mick family. Move for your family. Move for Sophia!
Suddenly, Damon moved. He swung his sword with all his might at the incoming Sword of Damocles.
Blood-red Dying Sun
The moment Damon's blood-red sword collided with the Sword of Damocles, it melted under its force. The sword continued to pierce through, aiming straight at Damon.
In the final instant, Damon's jade-like medallion shattered, teleporting him out of the dueling arena.
The Sword of Damocles struck the ground with a tremendous crash.
Boom!
In an instant, the explosion of light was as bright as the sun itself, and half of the dueling arena was reduced to rubble, forming a deep crater.
The protective barrier around the arena shuddered under the impact. It was a barrier capable of withstanding attacks from fourth-tier spells.
As the Sword of Damocles dissipated and Damon was teleported away, the crowd stared at the enormous crater the sword had left behind.
The dueling arena was silent for a moment before erupting in loud cheers.
"Rien!"
"Rien!"
"Rien!"
As the battle ended, Rien descended from the sky. He no longer exuded the calm and composed demeanor of before. His wild celebration matched the audience's roaring cheers.
"Woo-hoo! Louder!"
The nobles in the stands couldn't help but shake their heads at Rien's lack of aristocratic manners. Rien is still the same...
But from this day forward, no one would dare call Rien a useless fool.
Sophia, watching with a complex expression, quietly left the dueling arena. Rien's sudden rise posed a serious threat to her, this genius of the Empire.
Even the Sword of Damocles, she wasn't sure she could have withstood it. She needed to train immediately.
In the resting room, Damon sat on the ground in despair, his face filled with hopelessness.
"Damon, what's wrong? Did you give up after just one defeat?"
Damon looked up to see his father, Brant, standing over him.
"Father, I... The family prepared so much for me, but I still lost. I... I'm useless."
Tears welled up in Damon's usually steadfast eyes.
Brant knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Damon, who hasn't faced failure? Even I, when I was young, failed countless times. Failure isn't something to fear; what's truly terrifying is the fear of failure itself."
"We all underestimated Rien. He's been hiding his true power."
"I misjudged his strength as well."
Brant stood and spoke more firmly. "So, my son Damon, don't be discouraged. A single failure doesn't mean you will fail again next time. What you need to do now is learn from this experience and make sure Rien falls next time."
Damon, listening to his father's encouraging words, straightened his back. He wiped his tears and said with renewed determination, "Yes, Father. I won't disappoint you."
Damon got up and slowly walked back to the dueling arena.
He saw Rien, still arrogantly celebrating, and walked over to stand beside him.
"Rien, I've lost. According to the duel's rules, you have the right to ask me to do something that doesn't harm the family or the Empire. What do you want?"
"Whatever insult you throw at me, I'll take it."
Rien stopped cheering and looked at Damon's determined eyes. The crowd fell silent, curious about what Rien would make Damon do.
Rien didn't really hate Damon. Damon's insults had just been the fiery words of a youth. After all, who wouldn't be angry seeing their goddess admired by a scoundrel?
At least, Rien would be.
However, wrongs must be punished. A mischievous idea filled Rien's mind, and the dark waters of his thoughts swirled.
Rien leaned in close to Damon's ear and whispered.
"Damon, I won't insult you, but for your mockery of me, I will punish you."
"In two days, I want you to steal the underwear Sophia is wearing today. And for the next month, you'll tell me the color of her underwear every day."
Damon froze, stepping back a few paces. His eyes widened in disbelief.
What did I just hear?
Steal Sophia's underwear...?
His eyes locked onto Rien, who wore a mischievous smile, and Damon could almost feel the devil's grin.
Damon swallowed heavily and stammered, "Re... Rien, did you... did you really say that?"
Rien smirked. "You heard me right. Would you like me to say it louder, Damon? Do you want me to repeat it in front of everyone?"
"If 'that person' hears about it, you'll have an even harder time completing the task, won't you?"
"No... please don't."
Damon waved his hands frantically, panicked.
"Ha-ha-ha."
Not caring anymore, Rien laughed and walked toward the stands, embracing Emily and Roland as the crowd continued to watch in admiration.
Damon, stunned and in disbelief, slowly returned to his father's side.
Brant, noticing the defeated look on Damon's face as he reentered the room, tried to comfort him.
"Damon, lift your head. It's just a bit of humiliation. Who hasn't been humiliated?"
Damon stared at his father, wanting to speak, but the words wouldn't come out.
Brant raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, Damon? Don't you trust me?"
Damon glanced around, ensuring no one else was around, then took a deep breath and shared what Rien had asked him to do.
"Father... Rien... he... he wants me to steal Sophia's underwear today, and for a month, he wants me to report the color of her underwear every day."
As Damon spoke, his face turned redder and redder, until he was nearly as red as a boiled lobster.
Brant, upon hearing this, was completely stunned.
No insults, no humiliating tasks—just stealing underwear?
He looked at Damon, who was practically steaming with embarrassment, and could only sigh inwardly. If it were his other children, it wouldn't be such a problem—they didn't care for Sophia.
But for Damon, Sophia was sacred and untouchable. To marry her, Damon had even avoided having a personal maid, fearing that Sophia might find out and look down on him.
Sigh, Rien had forced Damon to choose between the Warrior God and the Goddess.
"Alright, Damon, don't worry. The family will take care of this. You don't have to worry about it."