Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

Chapter 122: Brotherhood Gladiator

CH122 Brotherhood Gladiator

***

Three days after the Fury Family meeting, the long-awaited day of the duel finally arrived.

The duel and its high stakes had been publicly announced, not only to the pureblood members of the Fury Family but also to the citizens of their estates and fiefdom territories.

All who could travel made their way to the City of Ashes—capitol of the Fury Family, built around the majestic Ashen Castle.

Perhaps disturbingly, the city’s atmosphere was more reminiscent of a festival than a looming life-or-death battle.

Merchants flooded the streets, taking full advantage of the influx of visitors. Colourful stalls lined the walkways, filled with the local specialties of the surrounding plains, hawked by smiling vendors in loud, enthusiastic voices.

Despite the carnival-like atmosphere, security was tight.

The guard forces of the Fury upper echelons, who attended the Family meeting, had folded into the city’s regular guard, forming a united front to maintain order. Jared’s Magic Armour Company had also been deployed, a clear signal that this was not just a spectacle—it was an important matter of family legacy.

And like all duels with high stakes, the city’s gambling dens and casinos were booming with activity.

Wagers were flying fast and loose.

Some bet that Young Master Alex would defeat Kurt and go on to challenge and defeat the Council heirs. Others took a more conservative route, only betting on him beating Kurt. Then there were those who sided with Kurt outright, betting that the first duel would end the matter entirely.

Unsurprisingly, given the lack of concrete information on Alex’s current strength—especially since most details publicly available were from before he left for the Enclave—the majority of civilians placed their bets on Kurt.

In the eyes of the common folk, Alex was the usurper.

They believed Kurt to be the true heir—charismatic, powerful, and the powerful Young Master of Ashen Castle.

Joselin Holt’s public relations campaign over the years had paid off handsomely. Her son was seen as the natural successor, while Alex’s name faded into obscurity—until now.

By the time the midday sun hung high in the sky, the crowd had already filled the arena.

The duelling arena—an enormous coliseum that stood as a monument to the Fury Family’s martial heritage—was packed to capacity. Excitement buzzed in the air, mixed with tension, as thousands gathered to witness the battle that could very well determine the family’s future.

The known genius, Second Young Master Kurt, versus the unknown First Son.

A classic tale—two brothers from different mothers, fighting for their father’s throne.

Kurt arrived early, as expected. He made himself visible to the crowd, soaking in their cheers, his presence loud and commanding.

He stood tall and proud at the centre of the arena, a massive sword—almost his own height—plunged into the ground beside him.

It wasn’t until ten minutes before noon that Kurt stopped his showboating. His expression turned serious as he began his final preparations.

He activated his warrior breathing technique, circulating his internal energy and calming his mind. His focus sharpened, his strength peaked.

Meanwhile, Alex approached the arena in stark contrast.

He rode calmly on horseback, with Fen curled up on his lap, purring softly as the horse trotted at a leisurely pace.

Alex’s expression was calm, almost serene, as he gazed upon the towering coliseum.

’A coliseum, huh...’ he mused, his lips curling into a faint smile. ’Just six years ago, I was still a System Engineer... a geek behind a desk. Never imagined I’d be walking into an arena like this, preparing to fight in front of thousands.’

A chuckle slipped from his lips.

”Whine~?” Fen tilted her head with a soft questioning sound.

”It’s nothing,” Alex said, gently petting her. ”Just realised... I’m not exactly dressed for the part.”

He looked down at his clothes—an elegant, hooded version of the noble attire he’d worn to the family meeting. A black-and-purple noble rogue suit with crimson accents, inspired by the Brotherhood style.

Certainly not gladiator gear.

’I would’ve gone with something more dramatic if I’d known it’d be this kind of crowd,’ he thought with a smirk.

Pushing the joke aside, Alex looked down at Fen.

”Don’t forget what I told you.”

Bark!

”You too,” he added into the air.

”I won’t,” came a cool, feminine voice from nowhere.

With that, Alex dismounted and entered the arena.

He passed his horse to a waiting attendant and was led through the inner corridor, emerging onto the duelling stage.

The first thing he noticed was that the arena’s layout was surprisingly rectangular. He had expected something more oval, like the Roman-style coliseums from his past life.

The duelling ground itself was large—roughly the size of a professional football pitch.

[Author’s Note: I mean real football... you know, the one where players actually kick the ball with their feet. 😏]

Only then did his gaze turn to Kurt.

The towering man stood proud beside a massive greatsword that nearly matched his own seven-foot frame in height.

’A Zweihander, huh...’ Alex noted mildly.

The weapon was a double-hilted greatsword with a reinforced mid-grip—clearly similar in style to the historical Zweihanders from his previous life.

’A sword, of course. Typical,’ Alex mused, shaking his head.

Suddenly, the crowd stirred.

At the highest podium, the Fury Family Counts began arriving and took their seats, flanked by elite guards.

Moments later, Earl Drake appeared.

He stood with imposing presence at the gallery overlooking the arena, then raised his hand to speak.

”This duel is one where life and death are left to fate,” he began, his calm, resonant voice magically projected to sound as if he stood beside them. ”If either of you has doubts, now is the time to resign.”

The arena held its breath.

Neither combatant answered.

Earl Drake gave a subtle nod. ”Very well. The duel will proceed.”

”Are you both ready?”

Kurt responded with a firm nod.

Alex raised his hand.

”Boo~!”

Suddenly, jeers erupted from the crowd.

But they were silenced almost immediately.

”Silence,” Earl Drake said, not raising his voice, yet commanding obedience.

”Speak,” he told Alex.

”I didn’t expect such a spectacle,” Alex said languidly, ”so I didn’t bring a weapon. I wonder if any of the soldiers could pass me a rod.”

”You are a mage,” Earl Drake said, his tone slightly surprised. ”Why would you ask for a rod?”

”I’m worried,” Alex replied calmly.

”Worried some fool won’t be able to accept the result if I defeat him as a mage... So I’ll humour him. I’ll fight him as a warrior, in the way he’s most confident.

”Perhaps then he’ll finally understand the difference between us... and learn his place.”

Pin-drop silence.

Then—

ROOOOAR!!

The arena exploded into cheers and exclamations.

Even if most didn’t believe Alex could follow through, his sheer presence, his aura, and the weight of his words sparked something primal in them.

Excitement for the duel shot through the roof.

Among the crowd, Ulfman and the twins were also present, having brought young Wilbert to watch.

Alex’s number one fan screamed at the top of his lungs, shaking with uncontainable excitement.

”Very well. Bring him a rod,” Earl Drake ordered.

Soon, a Fury soldier rushed over with a long, metallic rod—almost two metres in length.

Alex accepted it, tested its weight with a few swings, and nodded.

”Since you’ve chosen this path,” Earl Drake continued, ”should you use spells, you will forfeit the match. Is that clear?”

”I understand,” Alex said.

”Then let the duel begin.”

Alex turned to face Kurt.

The younger man’s body was trembling with rage—pure, unfiltered hatred radiating from every muscle. His killing intent was so intense that Alex didn’t even need Spirit Sight Lv2 to see it.

”AAAHHH!”

With a roar, Kurt charged—like an enraged bull.

**