Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Dominic Ashworth's smug face remained in my mind as I prepared for the day ahead. His threats were transparent—a pathetic attempt to rattle me before my fight with Broderick.

"Your little scheme is obvious," I told him flatly. "You're hoping Broderick weakens me enough that your mysterious disciple can swoop in for an easy victory."

Dominic's wrinkled face twisted into a smile. "Think what you like, Knight. The outcome remains the same. By tomorrow's end, your meteoric rise will be cut short. One way or another."

I stepped closer to him, letting my golden light flicker across my skin. "Tell your disciple to bring flowers for your funeral when he comes to challenge me. You'll need them."

I shut the door in his face before he could respond.

Morning came too quickly. The safe house felt unusually quiet as I performed my final preparations. Clara sat at the kitchen table, watching me with worried eyes.

"Do you have to fight today?" she asked, her small voice piercing the silence.

I knelt before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, but I'll be back. I promise."

"What if you get hurt?"

"I won't." I tried to sound more confident than I felt. "Broderick may be strong, but I'm stronger."

The Man with the Mustache entered the kitchen, his usual flamboyant attire replaced by something more subdued. "The carriage is waiting. We should leave now if we want to reach Mount Qinvor on time."

I nodded, rising to my feet. "Clara, stay close to us at all times. There will be many people watching today, and not all of them are friendly."

She clutched the jade pendant I'd given her for protection. "I understand."

The journey to Mount Qinvor was tense and silent. Located at the outskirts of Veridia City, the mountain had long served as a traditional dueling ground for martial artists. Its flat summit provided the perfect arena, visible to spectators gathered on the surrounding ridges.

As our carriage approached, I was surprised by the sheer number of people already assembled. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, lined the mountain paths and ridges.

"Word of your duel has spread throughout the city," the Man with the Mustache remarked. "Everyone wants to see the upstart who dares challenge the Veridia City Martial Guild's champion."

I gazed out the window at the crowds. "They've come to see blood."

"Most likely," he agreed. "Though some secretly hope you'll win. The guild's grip on this city has grown too tight for many."

Our carriage stopped at the base of the mountain path. The final ascent would have to be made on foot—a tradition as old as the duels themselves.

As we stepped out, I felt countless eyes turn in our direction. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through tall grass.

"That's him—Liam Knight."

"He doesn't look so special."

"They say he killed three Martial Lords with a single strike."

"Nonsense. No one's that powerful."

I ignored the chatter, focusing instead on the path ahead. Clara stayed close to my side, her hand occasionally brushing against mine for reassurance.

Halfway up the path, I spotted a familiar face among the spectators—Dashiell Blackthorne, his handsome features twisted with bitterness. Our eyes met briefly, and his hatred was palpable. His humiliation at the wedding remained fresh, his pride still wounded.

I gave him a slight nod, just enough to acknowledge his existence without showing respect. His face darkened further, and he turned away, unable to hold my gaze.

As we neared the summit, a collective gasp rose from the crowd. Looking up, I saw why.

Broderick had arrived—not by the traditional path, but from above. He hovered in midair above the summit, his black robes billowing dramatically around him. Dark energy swirled at his feet, keeping him aloft like a malevolent deity surveying his domain.

"Always with the theatrics," I muttered.

The Man with the Mustache snorted. "The guild loves their spectacles. It's how they maintain their mystique."

When we finally reached the summit, a flat circular area roughly fifty paces across, Broderick still hung suspended above the center. The crowd had fallen silent, awed by his display of power.

At the edge of the arena stood Ms. Hayward, her severe beauty unchanged, her eyes cold as she watched our approach. Several guild elders flanked her, their expressions equally frigid.

"You're late," she called out, her voice carrying effortlessly across the space between us.

I shrugged. "Some of us prefer to walk rather than fly. It keeps us grounded."

Her eyes narrowed at my subtle jab. "Your arrogance continues to amaze me, Knight."

"It's not arrogance if you can back it up."

She gestured toward Broderick, who remained hovering above us. "My disciple will teach you the difference between confidence and delusion. He has reached heights of power you cannot imagine."

I glanced up at Broderick, growing irritated with his floating act. "Is he planning to fight me up there? Or will he eventually come down and face me like a man?"

Ms. Hayward's lips curved into a cold smile. "Patience, Knight. The duel hasn't officially begun."

I'd had enough of their posturing. Without warning, I channeled my golden energy into my right fist and struck upward, sending a pillar of light shooting toward Broderick.

The crowd gasped. This wasn't how duels typically began.

Broderick's eyes widened in surprise, but he moved with impressive speed, abandoning his aerial position as my golden light tore through the space he'd occupied.

He landed gracefully on the opposite side of the arena, his face flushed with anger. "You dare attack before the duel begins?"

I rolled my shoulders casually. "I thought you were ready. My mistake."

The Man with the Mustache coughed to hide his laughter, while Clara watched with wide, worried eyes.

Ms. Hayward stepped forward, her voice tight with controlled rage. "You've broken protocol, Knight. The consequences—"

"Will be what?" I interrupted. "Another fight? More enemies? Save your threats. Let's get on with this."

I turned to Clara and the Man with the Mustache. "Move to the edge of the arena. Stay together."

They nodded, retreating to a safe distance as I walked to the center of the summit. Broderick did the same, his dark energy now swirling around him like an angry storm.

As we faced each other, I got my first good look at him since his training with Ms. Hayward. He'd changed. His body seemed denser somehow, more compact with power. Dark veins pulsed beneath his skin, suggesting he'd undergone some kind of forbidden cultivation technique.

"You look different," I remarked casually. "Mystic Realm training agrees with you."

His eyes widened slightly. "How did you—"

"Know?" I smiled. "You've got that distinctive energy signature. The Mystic Realm leaves its mark on those who train there."

Broderick recovered quickly. "It won't matter what you know. My power has increased tenfold since we last met."

"So has mine."

We began circling each other slowly, our energies flaring—his dark and turbulent, mine golden and steady. Where our auras met, the air crackled and hissed. The stone beneath our feet began to crack under the pressure of our combined power.

The crowd had fallen completely silent now, enthralled by the spectacle before them. Even the guild elders leaned forward in anticipation.

"I'll make this quick," Broderick said, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "Ms. Hayward wants your head as a trophy."

"Many have tried to take it," I replied evenly. "They're all dead now."

His face contorted with rage. "Your luck ends today!"

The ground beneath us fractured further as his dark energy intensified. The cracks spread outward from where we stood, racing toward the edges of the arena like lightning across the sky.

I remained still, allowing my golden light to rise naturally in response to his threat. My energy didn't push outward aggressively like his—instead, it formed a perfect shell around my body, concentrated and controlled.

"Is that all your training amounted to?" I asked, genuinely curious. "More power but no finesse?"

Broderick's eyes flashed dangerously. "You talk too much, Knight."

"And you posture too much," I countered. "Are we fighting or just threatening each other?"

That did it. With a roar of fury, Broderick's black robe shattered as his dark energy exploded outward. His body transformed before my eyes—muscles bulging grotesquely, skin darkening to an unnatural gray hue.

The guild had clearly pushed him beyond normal human limits, risking his humanity for power.

Time seemed to slow as he launched himself forward, his massive fist encased in swirling dark energy, aimed directly at my heart.

I braced myself, golden light intensifying around my body as the first true blow of our duel came hurtling toward me.