Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 19: Beginner’s Mind

Will staggered to his feet, his breaths heavy, his face twisted in frustration. He wiped the saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand before locking eyes with Bel. His pride wouldn't let him back down now.

"Fine," Will spat, shaking off the pain. "I'll go all out. If you end up injured, that's on you."

Bel didn't reply. He simply watched, his golden gaze locked onto Will's every movement.

Will exhaled sharply and took a firm stance, his feet grounding into the dirt. Slowly, a faint glow pulsed around his body. The heat in the air thickened.

Sparks ignited around his wooden sword, flickering wildly before growing into a controlled flame. It licked up the length of the blade, consuming it inch by inch. The dry wood caught instantly, the embers deepening into a solid, searing flame that wreathed his entire weapon.

Bel's eyes narrowed. His mind instantly broke down the mechanics of what he was seeing. Fire magic, concentrated and controlled through Will's sword. The way the flames coiled and danced suggested an internal flow of energy, guided by the mind rather than sheer force.

He noted how the heat didn't spread beyond the weapon, how it was condensed along the edge to maximize destructive potential. However, the way the flames curled upon each stroke made it clear that the magic wasn't particularly designed to burn. It was at most for visual effect.

Bel blinked. Why did he know this? Every piece of information fell into place so effortlessly, like knowledge he had always possessed.

Was this because of his Intelligence stat? His understanding of magic felt almost instinctual, and from the moment he had greatly increased it, he felt several shifts in his reasoning.

Will's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"I hope you're ready, because I'm coming at you with the intent to kill."

Bel tilted his head, lips curling into an amused smirk.

"With that candle?"

Will's eye twitched.

Bel crossed his arms, tone casual.

"No offense, but what exactly was so special about you that they made you a knight?"

The taunt hit its mark. Will's grip tightened around his burning sword, his face darkening with anger. Without another word, he rushed forward, his weapon slicing through the air, flames trailing in its wake.

Bel shifted, dodging the first strike with ease. Then another. And another.

The knights watching exchanged nervous laughter. Some even started taunting Will.

"C'mon, Will, you said all out! Where's that power?"

"Didn't you say you'd burn him?"

Will gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. His strikes became more aggressive, his swings fueled by anger rather than strategy. Yet, no matter how much faster he tried to move, no matter how hard he swung, he couldn't touch Bel.

From above, Crest watched with growing frustration, while his father observed with quiet intrigue. Sienna, however, looked more stunned than anything. This difference in power was absurd.

Then, mid-swing, something unexpected happened.

Bel didn't dodge.

Instead, he raised his bare arm and caught the flaming wooden sword against his forearm.

Will's eyes widened in pure shock. The heat should have seared flesh, the impact should have sent Bel staggering back, but his arm barely trembled against the force. A small shudder ran through him, but his smirk only widened.

"So even this doesn't hurt me?"

Before Will could react, Bel kicked him in the guts, sending him on his knees once again.

Meanwhile, Dusteria rushed through the halls, her heart pounding with every step. Something was wrong.

A duel?

Her breath hitched. Why? Why was this happening? She knew Will was impulsive, but this was beyond foolish. He wasn't ready to face that thing.

You will never beat a real demon... How could you do that?!

The thought struck like ice in her veins. Her mind flashed back to that night, to the sight of her butler, a man trained to perfection, cut down like an insect.

His experience, his skill, his honor, none of it had mattered face to a real demon.

Will was strong, but not strong enough. And Bel... He was described as a powerful demon.

The sounds of cheering and shouting grew louder as she neared the courtyard. She followed the voices, turning a corner, only to be met with a wall of knights, their bodies blocking her view.

"Move!" she demanded, shoving her way through, barely noticing the murmurs of surprise at her sudden appearance.

And then she saw it.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

Will was barely standing. His entire body was covered in dust, his uniform torn and dirty. One of his eyes was swollen shut, his lip split, bruises darkening across his arms and legs. He was trembling, not just from pain, but from frustration and rage.

Bel, in contrast, stood completely unbothered. He was examining his own hand, shaking it slightly before looking down at his fingers.

There was a faint red mark.

He blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm."

The quiet hum of contemplation was the final insult.

Dusteria watched as he casually analyzed the mark, the fruit of all the years of training of a poor knight.

So this can reach me after all?

He clicked his tongue in slight annoyance before tilting his head in thought.

"I wanted to test my toughness," he murmured to himself. "But this result is disappointing."

His gaze flicked back to Will, who was still breathing hard, trying to steady himself.

"He's incredibly weak. If even he managed to do this much, then anyone stronger could probably crush me."

He sighed, rolling his shoulders before exhaling sharply.

"Ok, that's enough. We're done."

The words cut through the courtyard like a blade. The cheering and jeering from the knights stopped instantly.

Will didn't react at first. He simply stood there, panting. Then, slowly, his head lifted, and his face twisted into disbelief.

"What...?" he croaked. His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from exhaustion. "What do you mean 'we're done'?"

Bel rested his wooden sword on his shoulder lazily.

"I got the answers I needed, so it's over. The duke is over."

Will's eyes widened.

"... What?... You... You can't just..." His voice cracked as he took a shaky step forward. "You don't just stop a fight because you're done! This isn't just some test for you!"

Bel didn't even look at him.

"Of course it is. That's the only way I could get anything out of this."

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Will clenched his fists, his entire body shaking. The humiliation burned deeper than the bruises covering him.

The laughter from the knights had long since died down, replaced by awkward glances. Even they understood what had happened. He had been played with, toyed with, deemed unworthy of defeating, then discarded.

The rage became unbearable.

"No... NO! We're not DONE!"

From the Duke's office above, Crest had seen enough. His expression hardened, and without a word, he turned and rushed out, leaving his father still watching.

Back in the courtyard, Will's breathing turned ragged. His hands shook with a mix of exhaustion and fury. He couldn't, he wouldn't let it end like this.

Before anyone could react, Will lunged.

A desperate, reckless charge, sword raised, aimed for Bel's unguarded back.

At that exact moment, Crest burst from the mansion doors, his voice rising.

"WILL, STOP...!"

But before either of them could make an impact, Bel moved.

Effortlessly, without even looking, he sidestepped the attack. His wooden sword flicked up, almost lazily, tapping Will's head with just enough force to send him toppling forward.

Will hit the ground face-first, unconscious, in front of his friends and seniors.