Volume 2 chapter 59
The next morning, Charlo rose early. When he looked out the window into the courtyard, he saw someone already there, sword in hand.
It was his older brother, Drake.
Dressed only in trousers and a thin shirt despite the winter chill, Drake was practicing his forms with rhythmic intensity.
"Seems he isn't as relaxed as he claims..." Charlo smiled faintly. Practicing at dawn in the dead of winter? Drake was clearly desperate to advance his rank.
Feeling a spark of interest, Charlo changed into light clothes, grabbed a blunted practice sword, and walked into the courtyard.
"Morning, Big Brother! Full of energy so early?" Charlo called out. "We haven't sparred in years! Care for a match?"
"Charlo?!" Drake stopped mid-swing, looking at the sword in Charlo's hand. He raised an eyebrow. "What, planning to use your rank advantage to get revenge for all those beatings I gave you?"
Before Charlo left home, Drake had always been a rank higher, usually winning their spars through brute force.
"No! No mana. Just swordsmanship. And I'll suppress my physical strength to the Sixth Rank level. A fair one-on-one. How about it?" Charlo shook his head.
"Oh? Then you're on!" Drake grinned confidently. "Let's see whose blade is sharper!"
"Let's do it! Let me show you... how much I've improved in these few years!"
Charlo drew his sword. The brothers took their stances.
"Three..."
Drake counted down, his eyes locking onto Charlo, grip tightening.
"Two..."
Charlo continued, raising his sword and stepping back with one foot.
"One!"
The moment the word left his lips, Drake charged. He crossed the distance in a flash, his blade thrusting toward Charlo's face!
Charlo reacted instantly. He sidestepped the thrust while simultaneously swinging his sword in a diagonal slash, cutting through the air with a sharp whistle.
CLANG!!
Drake retracted his blade just in time to block the slash.
They locked swords for a split second. Then, Drake tilted his hilt, trying to trap Charlo's blade with his crossguard while angling his point toward Charlo's throat.
But Charlo read the move. He twisted his wrist, pressing the flat of his blade against Drake's tip and forcing it down.
Although they used equal strength, Drake was fighting against leverage. Unable to hold the press, he chose to retreat, breaking contact.
Charlo didn't let up. He stepped forward, launching a simple, viper-like thrust straight at Drake's chest.
Drake's reaction was sharp. Though still off-balance from the retreat, he managed to twist his body and dodge the lethal point.
Charlo's strike missed, and he immediately pulled back to guard.
Sure enough, the moment Charlo missed, Drake launched a "Rising Dragon Slash," an upward cut intended to split Charlo from groin to chin.
But Charlo's timely retreat allowed him to block the upward strike.
Failing to connect, Drake stepped back again. Charlo pressed the advantage, delivering a horizontal slash with the force to sweep an army.
Drake blocked vertically, then gripped his hilt with both hands, ducked under Charlo's blade, and unleashed a heavy downward chop—"Splitting Mount Hua."
Charlo was forced to retract his sword, holding it horizontally with both hands to catch the heavy blow. He sank into a horse stance to absorb the impact.
CLANG!
Having blocked the strike, Charlo seized the moment when Drake's force was spent but not yet recovered. He parried Drake's blade wide, finally opening his brother's center line!
WHOOSH!
Charlo's sword flashed like lightning, chopping straight down at Drake's exposed head.
Drake's pupils contracted. Too late to block!
Using the momentum of the parry, he threw himself backward, narrowly dodging the tiger-like strike.
Charlo's full-force blow hit empty air. By the time he recovered, Drake had regained his footing.
Unfazed, Charlo charged again.
The two exchanged blows back and forth, sword light flashing in the cold morning air. In their hands, dull iron practice swords felt like divine weapons, every move sharp and lethal.
After dozens of rounds with no clear victor, they stopped simultaneously.
"Not bad... haa... I can barely keep up with you... haa!" Drake panted heavily, steam rising from his body.
"Of course... I am a genius, after all!" Charlo sheathed his sword. His breathing was only slightly hurried; otherwise, he looked untouched.
"Seventh Rank..." Drake sighed, looking at Charlo's relaxed state. Even with suppressed strength, the stamina and recovery of a Seventh-Rank body were far superior to a Sixth-Rank one.
"Sometimes... being too anxious to break through only traps you further!" Charlo didn't offer empty encouragement. That would sound condescending coming from the victor.
"Brother, you need to relax your mind. Calm your spirit. Breaking through to the Seventh Rank is a test of the mind more than the body!"
"I..." Drake fell silent for a moment. "I know that... but I just... can't calm down!"
"My little brother, who left home with nothing, has reached the Seventh Rank and is about to become a Count. And here I am, the 'Orthodox Heir,' still stuck at the Sixth Rank... How can I be calm?!" Drake buried his face in his hands.
Charlo froze. My breakthrough... really hit him hard.
"Sometimes..." Drake continued, his voice muffled. "I really think... maybe I should just give the Iron Rose title to you! You are more suitable than I am..."
"Stop!"
Charlo's expression changed instantly. Anyone else could say that, but not Drake. He interrupted firmly.
"That is impossible! The Iron Rose Family must be inherited by you! I will never accept it!"
"Why?" Drake looked at him blankly.
"True, for most noble scions in this world, inheriting their father's title is the best choice. But your little brother is one of the few exceptions!" Charlo explained.
"How so?"
"Generally, after inheriting a title, one must focus on family affairs. Training time disappears, so it becomes very difficult to advance in rank."
"But look at me! In just a few years, I went from Fifth to Seventh Rank! Where do you think my limit lies?" Charlo pointed at himself.
"Uh..." Drake hesitated. "Ninth Rank?"
"No!" Charlo answered sharply, pointing a finger at the sky, his face full of arrogance. "My limit... Ninth Rank is just the starting point! I am confident that one day—I will pierce the heavens!"
Drake stared at him, dumbfounded. For some reason, he felt incredibly small in Charlo's presence.
"So, I will not inherit the Iron Rose title! I must walk my own path! Being tied to this title would only restrict me!" Charlo held his head high.
"Look, I am already a Viscount! And I returned this time to see the Emperor and be promoted to Count! So, I don't need Father's title!"
"In the future, when you inherit the family, we brothers will be Two Counts. Add the Sword Family and the other nobles we rope in, and we will be a force even a Marquis wouldn't dare underestimate!"
"Therefore, Big Brother, you don't need to feel pressured. You inheriting the Iron Rose is the best choice! No one can replace you!"
"I understand..."
Drake stood there thinking, the tension in his face finally relaxing.
"Thank you... Charlo!" Drake bowed deeply. "My vision was too narrow... You are right. Your destination is not here. You will fly to higher places! I shouldn't restrict you!"
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