Chapter 381: Final Duel
The other centaurs, despite their embarrassment, found themselves contemplating the same question.
Elves were not known for their physical resilience. Compared to other races with tough skin and bulging muscles, they were rather delicate creatures.
The image of something of that magnitude entering them sent involuntary shivers down multiple spines.
Mavis, sensing she had the entire crowd eating out of the palm of her hand, pressed on without mercy.
"No wonder you managed to impregnate the entire village! With a weapon like that, one single shot could probably repopulate a whole continent!"
"You really are a glorious, terrifying donkey through and through!"
"MAVIS!" Sigrid finally screamed, her face practically glowing in the dark from sheer, unadulterated mortification. "THAT IS ENOUGH!"
Mavis threw her hands up in mock surrender, giggling playfully.
"Fine, fine! I’ll stop! I won’t say another word about the Hero’s legendary donkey-cock!"
Sigrid looked like she was about to faint.
Mavis turned back to Luca, winking cheekily.
"So, Hero...who resembles a donkey more now? Me, or you?"
Luca could not answer.
He had made that initial comment expecting to provoke her—to see what creative insults she might hurl in his direction.
He had been looking forward to it, honestly. He wouldn’t have minded if she had attacked him with any conventional insult imaginable.
Instead, she had gone straight for one of his deepest vulnerabilities.
His...endowment.
It was a subject that had haunted him for centuries.
The truth was over the long, lonely years of his existence, he had found himself in countless encounters with women.
Time and again, their passion would build, their clothes would fall away, their bodies would tangle together in the warmth of a candlelit room...
...and then, at that critical final moment, he would reveal himself.
And unfortunately, the women would take one look at his enormous member—
—and flee in absolute terror, convinced there was no way they could possibly accommodate such a monster without being torn apart!
He had endured hundreds of such humiliating rejections over the centuries. Perhaps more.
And each one had left a small, dark stain on his heart—a lingering insecurity that even his immense power could never quite erase.
It was the one thing that had always bothered him.
The one vulnerability in his otherwise impenetrable emotional defenses.
And Mavis, this tiny, pony-sized blacksmith with the sharpest tongue in all the land had found that weakness and exploited it!
But despite the sting of it, he couldn’t help but look at her with a new, grudging respect.
She didn’t play by any rules. She didn’t follow any manners or conventions.
She simply did whatever she wanted, said whatever she wanted, exactly when she wanted right out in the open.
Luca cleared his throat and met her gaze with genuine appreciation.
"Well played, Mavis. Well played. "
Mavis’s expression brightened with unmistakable pride at the praise.
"You just proved something important." Luca continued. "You demonstrated beyond any doubt that you don’t need massive size or towering power to inflict lethal damage on another person."
"You wield words the way a master swordsman wields a blade." He nodded slowly, acknowledging her victory. "Well played indeed."
Hearing this, Mavis felt warmth bloom in her chest.
It was just an offhand comment from Luca, a few simple words of praise.
But the fact that he was acknowledging her power, recognizing her strength in a way that no one else in her entire race ever truly did...
It made her genuinely, deeply happy!
But before she could bask in her glory any further, Sigrid’s razor-sharp voice cut through the air.
"Enough!" Sigrid gritted out, her face still bright red. "I think it is high time we begin the duel."
Sigrid had caught the delighted look on Mavis’s face and knew her little sister was already formulating five more crude, scandalous jokes to earn more praise from the Hero.
She moved to shut it down immediately.
Mavis blinked, snapping back to reality. "Ah! Right! The duel!"
She stepped forward into the center of the ring, her playful demeanor instantly vanishing, replaced by a solemn, focused intensity.
Luca found himself studying her body with fresh appreciation—she was so much smaller than the other centaurs.
She looked almost like a pony a child might ride at a festival back in his world. Something meant for gentle amusement rather than combat.
But as she stopped before him, he noticed something odd: she didn’t have a sword hanging from her waist like the other centaurs.
Instead, she carried a large, bulky sack slung across her back—stuffed with tools and what appeared to be other weapons, as though she were setting out on a long journey rather than arriving at a duel.
She rummaged through the sack, her small hands sifting through metal and leather, until finally she grabbed onto a hilt protruding from the mess.
With a firm pull, she drew the weapon free, and Luca finally got a proper look at what she intended to fight him with.
It was a sword. Steel or perhaps some lighter metal of average length.
But it was...strange.
From a single glance, someone as experienced as Luca could tell that the blade was far too thin.
There was no real weight to it at all. Compared to the burly steel weapons he had been facing moments ago, this was practically made of paper.
And it wasn’t just the thinness.
Right where the blade met the hilt, metal bands wrapped around the area just above the grip.
The sword’s guard ended in two peculiar metallic orbs, giving it an unusual appearance, while the hilt and handle were noticeably thick and bulky, lacking the sleek elegance of an ordinary sword.
The ornament at the bottom of the hilt, too, appeared far bigger than it should have been.
It was, without question, the strangest weapon Luca had seen in a very long time.
"If I hit that thing with even a fraction of my force, Mavis." Luca warned honestly. "It’s going to snap right down the middle."
Mavis looked up, a confident, dangerous smirk returning to her face.
"Oh, don’t worry about my blade, Hero. Just get into your guard, and I’ll prove to you and to everyone watching that I am the strongest centaur in these highlands."
Luca had nothing to say to that.
He simply held both of his sword-hands at his sides, casual and relaxed, as though he were preparing for little more than a stroll in the park.
Mavis settled into her own stance, her eyes roving over Luca’s body with a calculating intensity, as though she were solving a complex equation in her mind.
’Hmm?...’ Luca went on guard, a flicker of wariness passing through him.
There was definitely something going on behind those keen eyes of hers—she was clearly up to something.
But whatever trick she was planning, he couldn’t be bothered to dwell on it.
No matter what she tried, he was confident he could handle it.
—
All around them, the centaurs had gone quiet, watching the proceedings with a mixture of tension and morbid anticipation.
They realized that the duel was finally about to begin—and that Mavis, the very last person any of them had expected to show up today, was now stepping forward as the final hope to preserve their commander’s honor.
But when they recalled who Mavis actually and honestly assessed her combat ability...
Their spirits deflated instantly.
There was no hope at all!
Thea, sharing the same grim realization, walked over to the assembled centaurs with a gloomy expression.
Poppy rose on her back, her thoughts aligning with those of her subjects.
Guilt weighed heavily on her heart. She was the one who had forced this bet upon her commander.
But there was nothing she could do about it now. What was done was done.
She pulled a white silk handkerchief from her sleeve, her voice solemn as she addressed the clearing.
"I officially announce...the final duel of the day...between the Human Hero, Luca...and the Blacksmith of the Centaur Kingdom, Mavis Silvermane."
She looked at Luca, her voice tight.
"If Mavis wins...Commander Sigrid’s debt is cleared, and the Hero shall take her place as my mount."
"But if the Hero were to win instead, then..."
She trailed off, her ears drooping. Everyone knew the odds. If Mavis lost, the bet was sealed, and Sigrid’s pride would be destroyed forever.
But Sigrid herself wasn’t thinking about the bet at all.
Her gaze was fixed entirely on her sister, analyzing every detail of Mavis’s stance, every minute adjustment of her grip.
Whatever was about to happen in this duel, it was far more important to her than the potential humiliation she herself faced.
Poppy surveyed the scene one final time. No one was arguing. No one was intervening.
Luca and Mavis stood ready—especially Mavis, who looked as though this were the moment she had been waiting for her entire life.
The moment she would finally prove herself.
The queen sighed.
"Get ready." Her voice carried across the silent field. "Three....Two....One!"
She threw the handkerchief high into the air.
Every gaze followed it upward. Because of Poppy’s weak throw, the cloth didn’t soar with dramatic flair—it simply drifted, catching the breeze like a leaf falling from a tree.
Slowly, it made its way back toward the earth.
Further and further.
Until finally—it touched the grass.
—
The moment the handkerchief landed, Mavis did not hesitate.
Whoosh!
She raised her sword high into the air with both hands, her small muscles straining, as though she intended to bring it down with every ounce of power she possessed.
Meanwhile, Luca watched her attack unfold with a bored eye.
It only took a single glance at her stance—the way she held her sword, the placement of her center of gravity, the awkward angle of her shoulders—to confirm what everyone else had been saying.
They were right. She really wasn’t fit for battle at all.
While the others had solid foundations in sword arts, trained and drilled into them through years of practice, Mavis seemed to have none of that.
She appeared to be simply swinging her blade downward with raw, untrained effort.
Honestly, Luca felt a small pang of disappointment.
After all those bold words, after that devastating verbal exchange, she was just an amateur who barely understood the fundamentals of sword fighting.
He could already identify half a dozen weaknesses in her form. He was confident he could catch this blade with his bare hands if he wanted to.
But still, the fact that she had been courageous enough to confront him and try to prove herself against impossible odds—
—that earned her a measure of respect.
He decided not to crush her too brutally. A meaningful defeat, rather than a humiliating one.
He raised his blade to parry.
And then Mavis smiled.
It was a small smile, just the corner of her lips curling upward. But her eyes held an intelligence that immediately put Luca on alert.
But before he could react, her thumb moved slightly on the hilt, pressing something he hadn’t noticed before.
A button hidden in the grip!
And the small orb attached to the left guard of her sword...exploded!