Chapter 153: Instructor Aegon
In the meantime, both Aldren and Maverick had finally chosen their weapons. To Maverick’s surprise, however, Aldren selected a spear.
It was a choice that completely defied his expectations.
Judging from Aldren’s towering physique and overwhelming muscular build, Maverick had naturally assumed the young man would gravitate toward heavier weapons such as a massive broadsword, a greataxe, or perhaps even a colossal war hammer.
This is because those weapons complemented brute strength, allowing their wielders to dominate the battlefield through sheer force alone.
Yet Aldren had walked straight past every one of them without so much as a second glance. And instead, he had calmly lifted a simple training spear from the weapon rack.
Naturally, Maverick had asked him why and the answer Aldren gave was unexpectedly profound.
"The spear..." Aldren had said while running his palm along the polished wooden shaft, "...isn’t merely a weapon meant for killing."
He smiled as he continued.
"It is the weapon of conviction. Unlike swords that slash or hammers that overwhelm, the spear exists for one purpose and that is to move forward. Every thrust represents unwavering resolve. It never hesitates, never wavers, and never turns aside. If the sword symbolizes versatility, then the spear symbolizes determination. A spearman only needs one path... And that is the path directly before him."
For a brief moment, Maverick found himself speechless.
Those words hardly sounded like something that should come from someone as straightforward as Aldren.
Rather, they resembled the philosophy of an accomplished martial artist who had devoted years to understanding not merely the weapon in his hands, but also the meaning behind wielding it.
Also, it was that single conversation which made Maverick reconsider the towering youth standing before him. Perhaps... Aldren truly was far more than he initially appeared.
And somehow, that realization only made him even more intriguing...
As for Maverick himself, he ultimately settled upon a broadsword.
Although his Soul Essence manifested as a King Tier War Hammer, he had no intention of relying exclusively upon the weapon with which he was most familiar.
To Maverick, true martial mastery meant understanding every weapon one could reasonably wield... Or at least that was what an instructor of his had once told him.
However, he had burned it in his mind since that day. After all, there would inevitably come a day when circumstances deprived him of his preferred weapon. If that happened, he refused to become helpless simply because his War Hammer was unavailable.
Moreover, despite their obvious differences, the broadsword shared one important characteristic with the war hammer.
Both belonged to the category of heavy battlefield weapons. Neither relied upon speed alone; instead, both demanded overwhelming momentum, stable footwork, and decisive strength.
As a matter of fact, on a fundamental level, the broadsword resonated naturally with Maverick’s combat style...
Having chosen their respective weapons, Aldren led Maverick toward one of the larger sparring arenas situated near the center of the training grounds.
By this point, news of the upcoming duel had already spread throughout the entire complex.
The spar attracted not only curious trainees but also the undivided attention of veteran instructors and numerous knights stationed around the training grounds.
Therefore, within minutes, a sizeable crowd had gathered around the arena. Quiet whispers gradually transformed into animated discussions...
"I heard the Young Lord’s cousin is fighting Young Master Aldren."
"Already?"
"I wonder how strong he really is."
"He came from the Frozen North, didn’t he?"
"Still... he’s fighting Young Master Aldren."
"I don’t know about this."
Most of the conversations revolved around a single question; would Maverick actually be capable of defeating Aldren?
The skepticism wasn’t unreasonable. After all, everyone present had witnessed Aldren fight countless times.
They understood both his strengths and weaknesses. More importantly, they knew exactly how frightening those strengths truly were.
Also, among House Valehart’s younger generation, Aldren ranked amongst the most outstanding. Not merely because he was the grandson of a Grand Elder, but because of his strength.
House Valehart was an uncompromisingly meritocratic noble house.
Within its walls, noble status alone earned very little respect. In fact, if pedigree alone determined one’s worth, then certain disgraced descendants would never have been banished to the Nether Lands.
Instead, strength spoke and talent decided.
The greater one’s aptitude for cultivation and the more extraordinary one’s martial accomplishments became, the higher that individual would rise within the House.
And such had been the tradition of the Knight House for countless generations.
Therefore, the unwavering confidence displayed by both the instructors and trainees toward Aldren wasn’t born from favoritism. It was born from experience.
They knew exactly what he was capable of. And when compared to him, Maverick appeared relatively unproven and full of enigma.
Yes, he was the nephew of the Patriarch; who had just returned from the Frozen North, a place known for its brutality and harsh conditions.
But neither title nor reputation necessarily translated into genuine combat ability.
This uncertainty was precisely why the upcoming spar had attracted such widespread attention.
It was the mystique surrounding Maverick that fascinated everyone as no one truly knew what to expect...
Even House Valehart’s younger generation had gathered around the arena. But unlike the ordinary trainees, they occupied a separate section overlooking the battlefield.
Cedric stood quietly near the front.
Outwardly, his expression remained calm and composed. Yet beneath that composed exterior, a distinctly appraising glimmer lingered within his golden eyes.
His attention wasn’t primarily focused on Aldren. Rather, it remained fixed upon Maverick.
One detail in particular continued to puzzle him. The broadsword, the weapon of choice for Maverick.
Cedric knew perfectly well that Maverick possessed a King Tier War Hammer Soul Essence. So naturally, he had expected his cousin to choose a weapon that best reflected his fighting style.
Yet Maverick had instead chosen a broadsword. Was he merely experimenting?
Or... Did he possess enough confidence to defeat Aldren even without relying upon his preferred weapon?
Cedric couldn’t decipher his cousin’s intentions. Nevertheless, he would soon find out...
A few moments later, another figure stepped onto the arena. It was Instructor Aegon.
The bustling conversations around the arena quieted almost immediately he stepped onto the arena.
Although the veteran knight appeared to be in his middle years, his physique told an entirely different story.
He possessed broad shoulders, powerful arms, and a body that seemed carved from tempered steel. Every step he took radiated quiet authority born from decades of relentless training.
He wore a fitted azure instructor’s tunic reinforced with polished leather across the shoulders and chest, its high collar embroidered with fine golden thread depicting House Valehart’s winged crest.
Dark combat trousers disappeared into sturdy knee-high boots, while steel vambraces protected his forearms. A crimson instructor’s sash rested around his waist, signifying both rank and authority within the House.
Like every member of House Valehart, Aegon possessed golden hair and matching golden eyes. However, age had streaked silver through his hair, while countless years of hardship had dulled its once brilliant luster.
His eyes, however, they remained terrifyingly sharp. One glance from those eyes was enough to make even seasoned knights instinctively straighten their backs.
Instructor Aegon walked toward the center of the arena before stopping between the two youths.
His gaze then swept calmly over both combatants as he spoke.
"This spar..." He began in a firm voice that carried effortlessly throughout the arena. "...is nothing more than a friendly contest of martial skill. I will not tolerate needless hostility, excessive violence, or any deliberate attempt to inflict lasting injury."
His piercing gaze settled briefly upon Aldren.
"Aldren, I know your temperament. So control your excitement during the fight."
Only after saying that did he shift his attention toward Maverick. "And you. I expect the same restraint."
Then he folded his hands behind his back as he spoke further.
"The rules are simple. No Soul Essences and no Aetheric enhancement. Only your chosen weapons and your martial abilities. The moment I deem either of you incapable of continuing safely, the match ends. If either weapon leaves your hand, the match ends. If anyone intentionally ignores my commands... The match ends immediately."
He paused, allowing every word to sink in.
"Victory shall be determined by superior martial skill, not recklessness." His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked. "Am I understood?"
Aldren immediately straightened. "Yes, Instructor Aegon."
Maverick simply gave a slight nod. "Understood."
Aegon studied them both for another moment before finally nodding. Without another word, he stepped backward until he reached the edge of the arena...
The entire training grounds fell into silence.
Hundreds of eyes fixed themselves upon the two young warriors standing opposite one another.
The morning breeze drifted quietly across the arena, gently stirring their clothes.
Aldren lowered his center of gravity before raising his spear into a steady guard.
Across from him, Maverick calmly rested the broadsword upon his shoulder, his expression as tranquil as a still lake.
Instructor Aegon slowly raised one hand.
For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to hold its breath. Then, his arm sliced downward as he gave the order.
"Fight!"
The instant those words left his mouth, the arena erupted with explosive movement. And just like that, the battle began in earnest...