The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 270

Barret tried to rotate swiftly, turning his waist with a slick sound but as soon as he moved,a sword swished before his eyes landed straight on the nape.

Barret gasped in shock cause if he moved even a little it was gonna pierce him.

"Dead.."

"Damn!"Barret cursed himself and slapped his forehead.

He has been careless.Instead of rotating immediately,he should have sensed the presence behind and then measured his steps alas.

Barret sighed and stepped back leaving Vic who looked at Kael with a suspicious gaze.

’How did this person got so much stronger.’

Now Vic was growing agitated. He changed tactics,using thrusts instead of slashes. One stabbed forward, barely missing Kael’s cheek. Kael’s eyes narrowed.

Then suddenly, he went low. He dropped, knees barely grazing the ground, and slid beneath Vic’s guard—his sword flipped into reverse grip, carving upward from below. Vic barely managed to deflect it—but the edge scraped across his pauldron, cutting the strap clean off. Vic backed off, chest heaving. Sweat rolled down his temple.

The air buzzed with tension as Kael stepped forward, eyes locked onto Vic. The earlier spar was mere warm-up—now, it was a storm waiting to break. Vic adjusted his grip, knuckles white over the hilt of his broadsword. Kael tilted his blade slightly, the edge gleaming like moonlight. No commands were given—only silence—and then they moved.

Steel clashed like thunder.

BOOM!

A faint wind blast rippled across the place.

Vic moved and slashed in hard, his broadsword tearing down in a brutal arc. Kael raised his blade, catching the blow—but the sheer force sent a burst of wind outward. Dust and gravel exploded around them, blinding the onlookers for a second. The shockwave rattled through the ground. Kael slid back half a step, boots grinding against the floor, but his eyes never blinked.

Vic didn’t let up.The pressure that built up can’t be wasted.

He pressed forward—strike after strike, each one a boulder smashing down. He wasn’t just testing Kael now. He was going for dominance.

Kael absorbed each hit, not through strength, but through grace. He flowed between attacks, his sword sliding, weaving, wrapping around Vic’s brutal strikes like a serpent. Every motion was deliberate. His knees bent, his body coiled, and his strikes curved with eerie precision—sharp, thin, like a whisper cutting through metal.

Vic tried to change the tempo—he twisted, brought his hilt down for a pommel strike—but

Kael ducked low and launched upward. His blade spiraled along Vic’s flank, leaving a graze on the armor. Vic grunted and lashed out with a wide slash. Kael flipped the blade into reverse grip and parried backward while stepping onto Vic’s thigh and using it to vault over him.

As Kael landed behind him, he spun and struck.

Clang!

Vic barely turned to block. The power behind Kael’s strike forced him to his knees, the ground beneath cracking slightly from the impact. Another shockwave spread through the air, visible, rippling like heat waves under the sun. Trees at the edge of the yard shivered.

The Blue Knights had stopped breathing. "They’re breaking the ground..."

Kael didn’t relent. He shifted again, this time faster—too fast for a casual eye. He dashed in, sword carving strange loops through the air. It was a form no one there had ever seen before—a mixture of grace and violence. His sword didn’t follow a line; it danced on instinct and opportunity. One moment it struck from above, the next it coiled low and sliced upward.

Vic roared and delivered a side blow meant to break ribs. Kael stepped into the blow, blade drawn close to his chest. The moment Vic’s sword neared, Kael spun on one foot, his body curving like a wave, and redirected Vic’s force into the air. The sword struck nothing. Kael’s blade snapped forward, grazing Vic’s chest armor with a loud crack.

Vic stumbled.

But he wasn’t done.

He planted his sword into the ground, used it to push off, and spun mid-air, bringing his blade down like a guillotine.

Kael’s eyes sharpened. In that moment, he stepped into Vic’s guard, raised his own sword vertically—and stopped the blow with one hand gripping the back of his blade.

A burst of light and sound cracked outward.

Vic’s mouth fell open. "You... stopped that?"

Kael leaned close, his voice low, cold.

"You’re strong, Vic. But strength alone doesn’t win wars."

Then his elbow slammed into Vic’s chest, sending the older knight flying backward several feet and landing hard on his back.

Silence.

Not even the wind dared to move.

Kael sheathed his sword. "I told you," he said, walking past the stunned knights. "Still too slow."

"You little monster," Vic whispered.

Kael walked forward slowly, sword now held like a needle.

"You’re too rigid. You’ve been fighting the same way for a decade. Predictable."

Vic growled and, getting up, charged again to take Kael by surprise, trying a wide diagonal slash—but Kael, ever so fluid, twisted his wrist mid-parry, letting Vic’s blade slide down, then hooked it and pivoted behind him. His blade hovered at Vic’s neck.

"Dead."

Vic froze.

Another shockwave followed as Kael pulled away, leaving Vic blinking in stunned silence.

Silence.

The Blue Knights watching from the sidelines couldn’t believe what they just saw. Even the dirt seemed quiet, afraid to stir.

"That... That wasn’t a duel. That was art."

"How did he even move like that?"

"He danced with the sword like it was alive..."

Kael said nothing. He lowered his sword, turned away, and muttered under his breath—

"Still too slow. You can’t even do a sneak attack correctly..Tsk..Useless."Kael snorted.

"Huh! Aren’t you going to condemn me?"

"Nah! Everything is fair in war. It’s a good tactic."Kael waves his hand.

Many times he acted dead on the battlefield and then sneaked an attack. One needed to do many things to survive.

The sparring field still buzzed with awe as Kael sat down, sweat lining his brow, yet his breaths were steady. Around him, the Blue Knights gathered—some seated, others still standing, but all wearing the same expression: wonder and disbelief. Vic leaned against a post, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion, while Barret and Chris gulped down water with shaking hands.

Kael glanced at them, a rare smile tugging his lips. "You all have grown stronger," he said, his tone soft yet confident. "You’ve been doing well. But you just need to fine-tune your swordsmanship. It had several glaring flaws."

"Yes, My Lord!" Barret and Chris straightened immediately, shouting in unison with a spark of pride in their voices. Their faces flushed, not with shame but with renewed motivation.

Once, Vic would’ve scoffed at those words—"What do you know, kid?" he might have said. But now, with his sword arm still trembling and his pride slightly wounded, he remained silent. His gaze lingered on Kael with a furrowed brow.

’How do I feel like I’ve just fought an old monster instead of a blooming youngling?’ he mused, brow twitching.

There was a familiarity to Kael’s movements—calculated, honed, impossibly precise. Vic squinted. ’Was he trained by someone in secret? The Grand Duke maybe? No... he’s too straightforward for such refinement.’

His thoughts swirled until one name flickered like a whisper in the back of his mind.

’Could it be... Lord Ramos?’

Despite his eccentricity and loud mouth, Ramos was known to be terrifying with a blade. If anyone could forge a monster like Kael, it would be him. Vic’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, just as a loud, thundering voice shattered the air.

"Ahhhhh! Brat!"

Everyone turned sharply.

"What the fuck is this?!"

Kael blinked, wiping off the dust from his shirt as he turned to see Ramos charging toward him, his long coat flapping behind, hair wildly bouncing, and eyes ablaze with fury.

"What happened?" Kael asked, too casually.

"You’re asking me what happened?!" Ramos roared, stopping in front of him and jabbing a finger toward the cracked ground. "Are you sparring or trying to declare war on the earth?! Look at this mess! The ground is devastated! Just use the sparring ring, you dumb idiot!"

Kael’s lips twitched, barely suppressing the urge to laugh. "Are you going to pay for this? Or is this ground going to be repaired from your pocket?"

Ramos visibly flinched. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. He raised his finger again to shout but paused.

Kael raised a brow. "Why are you even here?"

"Oh... that..." Ramos scratched his head, looking comically confused for a second, then suddenly snapped his fingers as it clicked. "Right! You have a gift."

Kael tilted his head, suspicion immediately rising in his eyes. "Gift? What kind of gift?"

"Stop asking stupid questions and follow me to the room." Ramos turned with a wave, already walking away with his usual theatrical flair. freёnovelkiss.com

Kael’s expression was unreadable as he stood, exchanging a glance with Vic and the others, who looked equally confused.

"A gift, huh..." Kael muttered. He followed, footsteps slow but measured.

’Somehow... I have a bad feeling about this.’