Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 137: Predicting Every Move

Avery stood firm in the center of the dueling ground, her boots planted in the dirt as the knights formed a loose circle around her, their murmurs a low hum of anticipation.

Julie, Aisha, and Skadi lingered at the sidelines, their eyes fixed on her—Julie with a measured calm, Aisha with a skeptical frown, and Skadi clutching her notes like a talisman, her silver eyes darting with curiosity.

The air buzzed with tension, the weight of the bet pressing down on Avery's shoulders like a physical burden. She bit her lip, her grip tightening on her sword as she steadied her breathing.

'Don't take chances.' She told herself, her mind racing. 'This is the Young Master we're dealing with—he's not some fool to underestimate. Finish it fast, clean—don't let it drag.'

The thought of stripping bare before them all, her dignity shredded under Cassius's smirking gaze, fueled her resolve. She wasn't about to let a junior—any junior, turn this into a humiliation.

Her focus sharpened just as Cassius and Emma emerged from the shade of the tree, their footsteps crunching softly on the grass as they approached.

Cassius wore that infuriatingly casual look, his hands tucked in his pockets, his grin lazy and assured—like he'd already seen the end and was just waiting for it to play out.

Emma, though, was a different story.

The blonde junior strode beside him with a newfound fire in her blue eyes, her stance radiating determination and a strange, almost glowing confidence. It wasn't just nerves or bravado—there was an enlightenment there, a spark that hadn't been present before, as if whatever Cassius had whispered to her had lit something deep within.

That look sent a shiver of unease down Avery's spine, but she shoved it aside, steeling herself.

'I can do this.' She thought, steadying herself. 'She's still green—tips or no tips, I've got decades on her.'

Cassius joined Julie at the edge of the circle, his presence drawing every eye as Emma took her place opposite Avery, her sword drawn and her stance steady. He raised a hand, his voice cutting through the murmurs with easy authority.

"There's no need to drag this out with rounds or fancy rules." He said, his tone light but firm. "Duel like it's a battlefield—like your life's on the line. First to land a fatal blow wins. But..." He chuckled, his grin widening. "...let's not follow through, yeah? Stop short of the kill as I.don't wanna lose one of my precious knights over a bet."

Avery nodded slowly, her jaw tight, while Emma piped up with a quick, "Yes!"—her voice full of excitement and nerves that echoed across the grounds.

The knights around them shifted, their anticipation spiking as side bets began to ripple through the crowd.

"Ten coppers on Avery—she'll flatten her in a heartbeat!" One whispered.

"Nah, I'm betting on Emma—Master's got something up his sleeve!" Another shot back.

Cassius's gaze flicked between the two combatants, his smile lingering as he asked,

"Ready?"

Avery gave a curt nod, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto Emma. "Ready." She said, her voice low and steady.

"Yes!" Emma blurted again, her blade trembling slightly in her grip, but her stance firm.

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The crowd held its breath, every eye trained on the dueling ground as Cassius's voice rang out, sharp and final.

"Then...Let the match start!"

The instant the words left his mouth, Avery exploded forward, her boots kicking up dirt as she closed the distance in a blur.

She wasn't holding back—not a bit. Her sword arced down in a vicious slash, aimed straight for Emma's waist, a blow meant to end it fast and clean. She could already hear the jeers in her mind

"Overkill for a junior!"

"Taking it too serious!"

But she didn't care.

She wasn't here to play nice or save face; she was here to win, to avoid that wretched fate Cassius had dangled over her. The blade sang through the air, a fatal strike that should've landed square, dropping Emma before she could blink.

But it didn't.

To Avery's utter shock and the crowd's collective gasp—Emma moved.

Not a clumsy stumble or a panicked flinch, but a swift, precise dodge, her body twisting just enough to let the sword whistle past her waist. And in the same breath, she countered—her own blade flashing up in a quick, sharp slash that grazed toward Avery's arm, missing by a hair.

It wasn't random luck; it was targeted, aimed at a spot Avery knew too well—her left side, a blind spot she'd guarded for years, a weakness she'd trained to mask.

Emma had gone straight for it, like she'd known.

Avery jerked back, dodging the counter by a inch, her heart hammering as she stumbled a step, her eyes wide with disbelief.

The crowd erupted, their gasps turning to shouts.

"She dodged it?!" One knight yelped, clutching her head.

"Avery's fastest swing—how?!" Another gaped.

"And that counter—did you see that? She almost had her!"

Avery stared at Emma, her breath catching as she registered the girl's stance—steady, focused, her eyes glinting with that same eerie confidence.

'She dodged me.' Avery thought, her mind reeling. 'And parried—like she saw it coming.'

Her strongest opening strike, one that had felled seasoned foes, had been brushed aside by a junior with barely a year under her belt.

The knights around them buzzed, their disbelief mirroring her own, while Julie's brow furrowed, Aisha's tail stopped moving, and Skadi tilted her head, muttering, "Huh, that was fast..."

But Emma didn't gloat or hesitate—she reset her stance, her sword raised, ready for the next move.

And Avery braced herself, her sword raised as she locked eyes with Emma, expecting the junior to falter after that first exchange—hoping, at least, that she could seize control and end this quickly. She'd underestimated Cassius once already; she wouldn't do it again.

But what came next shattered her expectations entirely.

Shockingly, Emma didn't hesitate or shrink back—she took the lead.

With a sudden burst of motion, the blonde lunged forward, her sword flashing as she launched an all—out assault, her strikes coming fast and fierce.

Avery's instincts kicked in, her veteran reflexes snapping to life as she raised her blade to parry. She'd faced countless foes—bandits, mercenaries, beasts—and honed her ability to dodge and block with a precision born of decades.

This should've been easy, a dance she could lead with her eyes closed against a junior like Emma.

But to her utter disbelief, it wasn't.

Each swing from Emma came at her like a storm, and Avery found herself struggling—barely parrying the relentless barrage. Her arms strained, her footing slipped, and her breath hitched as she realized something impossible: Emma wasn't just swinging wildly.

She was targeting every weak point, every blind spot Avery had her left collarbone, the heel of her right leg, the subtle shift in her stance that left her off-balance.

Places no one noticed, flaws she'd buried under years of practice, were being exploited with surgical precision.

At first, Avery chalked it up to coincidence—a lucky hit, a fluke. She got past me once, fine, she thought, gritting her teeth as she deflected a strike aimed at her shoulder.

But then it happened again. And again.

Emma's blade darted toward her feet, forcing her to pivot awkwardly, then slashed at her ribs when she overcorrected—each move hitting a spot Avery couldn't easily guard.

The crowd's gasps grew louder, their shock apparent as Avery was pushed back, step by grudging step, under the junior's onslaught.

It wasn't luck. Emma knew her weaknesses, striking them with a confidence that bordered on uncanny, as if she'd mapped out every chink in Avery's armor before the fight even began.

Worse still, Avery tried to counter—tried to turn the tide. She knew Emma's habits too; she'd sparred with her enough times to spot the girl's tells: a slight overreach on her lunges, a tendency to leave her left side open after a heavy swing.

Avery aimed for those flaws, slashing at Emma's exposed flank, thrusting at her overextended arm—blows that should've landed, should've staggered her.

But to her horror, they didn't.

Emma twisted away from the flank strike, her footing steady where it used to falter, and pulled back her arm just in time to parry the thrust. It was like she'd scrubbed her fighting style clean overnight—no blind spots, no sloppy habits, just a tight, careful precision that countered every move Avery made.

'How?' Avery's mind screamed, her pulse pounding as she blocked another strike, this one grazing her thigh where her guard dipped too low. 'She's fixed everything—everything I knew about her!'

The crowd couldn't believe it either. Their murmurs swelled into a chorus of disbelief, eyes wide as they watched Avery—the unshakeable veteran falter under Emma's relentless advance.

"She's pushing her back!" One knight hissed, clutching her neighbor's arm.

"Avery's on the ropes—how?!" Another shook her head, gaping.

"Emma's hitting every weak spot—did you see that? It's like she's reading her!"

Skadi, standing beside Julie and Aisha, tilted her head, her silver eyes narrowing as she watched the duel unfold.

"Huh." She muttered, her voice tinged with rare surprise. "That junior's impressive. She's doing really good...really good."

Aisha blinked, turning to her with a frown. "You're impressed?" She asked, her tail flicking. "You don't compliment people, Skadi—you're too busy growling at your own shadow. What's got you so worked up?"

Skadi shrugged, her brow furrowing as she struggled to put it into words.

"Dunno how to explain it right." She said, tapping her chin. "But it's like...she knows exactly how Avery's gonna strike—like she's ready for it before it even happens. She's moving ahead of the attacks, setting up blocks and counters like she's seen them a hundred times."

"...And the way she's hitting Avery's blind spots? It's spot-on—shoulder, arma, that weird stance twist Avery does. Like she's fought her forever and knows every trick."

Julie and Aisha nodded slowly, their own observations aligning with Skadi's.

"She's right." Julie murmured, her voice low. "Emma's anticipating her—preempting every move. And those strikes—they're too precise, too tailored."

"Yeah." Aisha added, her eyes narrowing. "And she's not leaving openings anymore. I've seen her spar—she used to make mistakes, drop her guard after a swing...That's gone too."

"...She's tightened up everything, like she's fixed her flaws in—what, five minutes?"

She paused, then turned her gaze to Cassius, who lounged on his tree stump, one leg crossed over the other, watching the fight with that same infuriatingly calm grin.

"It's him." She said, her tone sharp. "He's behind this—whatever he told her, it's working."

Skadi nodded, her confusion deepening.

"If I fought Avery, I'd spot her weaknesses quick—my instincts are sharp, y'know? Takes me a swing or two to figure someone out...But this kid? A junior pulling that off? I don't get it—how's she doing it?"

Her tail swished, her silver eyes flicking between Emma and Cassius as she grappled with the puzzle.

Avery, meanwhile, felt the ground slipping out from under her—literally and figuratively. Her arms burned, her footing faltered, and sweat stung her eyes as she parried yet another blow, this one aimed at her knee—a spot she'd always kept guarded, until now.

'She knows.' Avery thought, panic creeping into her chest. 'She knows every damn weakness I've got, and I can't touch her.'

Her counters fell short, her strikes met air or steel, and Emma pressed on, relentless, her blade a blur of calculated fury.

The crowd's disbelief mirrored her own, their shouts fading into a stunned hum as the veteran—their veteran—teetered on the edge of a defeat no one had seen coming.

And Cassius just watched, his grin unshaken, like a man who'd already called the end before the first blow fell...