Before the words even finished echoing, the goblins in the plaza automatically backed away. Some climbed onto the roofs of the stone houses, while others crowded behind the stone pillars on both sides of the street. Even the guards on the distant castle towers leaned halfway out to look down.
Blake stood at one end of the clearing, his hands hanging at his sides as tiny ice crystals began to condense at his fingertips. He bent his knees slightly, lowering his center of gravity, and slowly exhaled a plume of freezing mist.
Leopold stood at the other end, without taking any obvious stance. He simply stood in place, his right hand open, devoid of any unnecessary movement.
Blake raised his hand, and three icicles condensed around him, floating in midair.
“Here I come.”
The moment Blake's voice fell, the tiny ice crystals at his fingertips burst, and three icicles shot through the air, aiming straight for Leopold!
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Leopold stood motionless, even as the icicles were about to pierce him. At this critical moment, a dark shadow shot out from beneath his feet, instantly expanding into a semi-circular shield at his side.
The three icicles slammed into the shadow shield, exploding into a flurry of ice shards. The first wave of attack was completely blocked.
“Not bad magic, Leopold,” Blake laughed. He took a step back, pressed his hands together, and then suddenly tore them apart—four giant ice spikes erupted from the ground, thrusting toward Leopold's feet.
Clang! Clang!
Leopold's shadow once again neutralized all of Blake's attacks. Countless ice crystals fluttered in the air, yet Leopold remained standing in place, motionless.
“Don't just defend!” Blake gritted his teeth and shoved his hands forward, his grayish-blue eyes instantly flashing with light.
“Nordus Iaculare Glacies!” (In the name of Nord, ice arrows, rain down!)
The moment Blake's incantation was completed, thousands of magic-infused ice arrows condensed simultaneously, pouring down toward Leopold and blotting out the sky.
Leopold still didn't move. The shadow beneath his feet surged, boiling upward in an instant, and a shadow shield blocked all the exploding ice shards!
“Over here!” Blake rushed to Leopold's side in an instant, a frost spear condensing in his hand.
“Leopold, can your shadow magic defend against this blow?” Blake spun the frost spear in his hand, its cold tip flashing as a flurry of ice blades thrust forward!
Under Blake's massive onslaught, Leopold finally waved his hand toward him. At that moment, strands of shadow instantly wrapped around Blake's body.
Blake's pupils shrank!
His wrists were already locked by the shadows—the black darkness crept along his skin, feeling bone-chillingly cold.
“Wh—”
Blake hurriedly raised his frost spear and swept it around, barely cutting through the entangling shadows. The ice crystals sprayed by the sweeping spear flew out, grazing Leopold's cheek.
Leopold instinctively touched his cheek, momentarily stunned. What had just happened? Was Blake actually this strong now?
Snapping out of it, Leopold suddenly realized... he had absolutely no idea how to fight! He could clearly see all of Blake's movements, but he had no clue what he should do next.
At this moment, he realized one thing—his inherited memories had given him knowledge, and the Primordial Dragon had given him blessings, but he had never actually been in a fight. Not in his past life, and not after crossing over!
A combat idiot.
Am I... actually this weak? Leopold looked at his palm in unease.
Leopold stood in place, his breathing slightly ragged. His right hand was still covering the cut on his cheek made by the ice crystal.
The surrounding goblins broke into a low murmur.
Blake also stopped. He narrowed his grayish-blue eyes, staring at Leopold from a few paces away.
“...Leopold, what was that just now?” The provocation was gone from Blake's voice.
Leopold lowered his hand, and the shadows retreated back beneath him.
“I...” He opened his mouth, only to realize he couldn't bring himself to say “I don't know how to fight.” It was just too embarrassing.
“...I'll tell you when we get back. It's not convenient here.” Leopold's ears flushed red.
The plaza fell silent for a moment.
Blake stared at the cut on Leopold's face for a few seconds, then suddenly dispelled the ice crystals condensing in his palm and let out a long sigh.
“...Fine.” He turned around and waved his hand at the onlookers. “Disperse, disperse. Nothing to see here.”
The goblins were clearly left wanting more, but the prestige Blake had accumulated in the Bronzebeard Tribe over the past twelve years meant no one dared to linger. The crowd quickly dispersed, and the streets returned to normal.
“Leo!” Isabella had already rushed over, casting a purification spell on the cut on Leopold's face.
“What's wrong with you, Leopold?” Blake asked, looking somewhat puzzled.
Leopold felt a bit embarrassed. He gestured for Isabella and Blake to come closer before speaking somewhat sheepishly, “I, I... don't know how to fight.”
Blake's expression went from confusion to utter disbelief. Then, he slapped one hand on Leopold's shoulder and clutched his stomach with the other, bursting into roaring laughter.
“Hahaha! What did you say? Leopold doesn't know how to fight?” Blake's grayish-blue hair trembled with his laughter. “You're a dragon!”
“Blake!” Isabella called out in displeasure.
“Alright, alright, I'll stop laughing... Pfft—” Blake looked at Leopold's face, held it in for barely two seconds, and then lost it again.
Smack! Isabella showed no mercy, landing a fist right on Blake's head.
Ten minutes later, Leopold sat on a stone chair in the castle's parlor, while Blake sat opposite him with his legs crossed, a large bump swelling on his head.
“...So you're serious,” Blake said sullenly, nursing his head.
Leopold nodded. “I can see your movements, Blake.”
“I can capture every step you take and every time you raise your hand in advance. But seeing it and doing it are two different things; my body doesn't know what to do next.”
“You can see it, but your body can't keep up.” The playfulness in Blake's grayish-blue eyes faded, replaced by a touch of seriousness. “That is a problem. Most of our dragon clan's combat instincts are carried in our bloodline. Your situation... honestly, I've never seen it before.”
“Is there any way to fix it?” Leopold asked.
Blake pondered for a moment, then stood up and walked to the center of the parlor.
“Training. We'll start with the basics. Since you can see my movements clearly, your perception is fine. The problem is—you don't have muscle memory.”
He stopped in front of Leopold and pointed to his own chest. “Stand up and throw a punch at me.”
Leopold was taken aback. “Right now?”
“Otherwise when? Are you going to practice slowly after the angels come knocking on our door?” Blake raised an eyebrow. “Don't use magic. Hit me.”
Leopold stood up, took a deep breath, and clenched his right fist.
“Here I come.”
“Bring it on!” Blake stared intently at Leopold's fist. He was going to find Leopold's shortcomings and become a qualified teacher!
Outside in the corridor, Isabella was carrying a tray with a pot of steaming herbal tea and a few golden-brown honey biscuits.
She wondered if Leo liked honey in his tea...
Lost in thought, she was just about to reach out and push the door open—
Boom!
The heavy wooden door of the parlor suddenly exploded. Isabella's pupils shrank. With no time to dodge, she could only instinctively twist her body aside.
Blake flew out of the room at extreme speed, like a cannonball, knocking the tray right out of her hands. The corridor became a complete mess; broken porcelain shards scattered everywhere, and honey biscuits stained with tea rolled into the corner.
“Cough, cough...” Blake knelt on one knee, wiping away the dragon blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“Hey, Blake!”
Just as Isabella was about to check on Blake's injuries, a slightly anxious voice echoed through the smoke and dust.
“Lord Blake... what... are you doing again?”
As the dust gradually settled, a lean figure was revealed—Gorn Grimm, the current chief of the Bronzebeard Tribe.
Rate on N.U.
