Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?
Chapter 26: Duel [1]

Chapter 26: Duel [1]

[Note: I have changed Iris’s appearance, so don’t get confused by both having same hair and eye color. Now, she has silver hair and amber eyes.]

The next day came quietly.

Another dull sun broke through the clouds, casting pale golden light through the narrow window above Alaric’s bed.

His eyes twitched open.

A sigh escaped his lips.

Another day.

He pushed himself up and rolled his shoulders, still sore from the hard mattress and yesterday’s work.

But pain was familiar now. Tolerable.

He stood, stripped off his shirt, and stepped to the side of the room, where a barrel of water waited.

Splashing his face, he grunted and wiped the cold droplets away with a cloth, then dropped to the floor.

"1... 2... 3..."

Push-ups. Sit-ups. Crunches.

By now, it had become routine.

A rhythm that gave his new life structure.

After cleaning up and changing into his servant uniform.

As he walked, his mind wandered.

He had learned the identity of the noble who arrived the day before.

Renard Valtair.

The younger son of Count Valtair, ruler of the southern districts of Eldros.

A man known for wealth, military influence, and a long list of public mistresses.

And Renard... he was said to be the count’s most spoiled child.

The official reason for his visit was something vague about ’diplomatic inspection’—reviewing estate contributions to border security and taxation structures.

There had been murmurs among the kitchen staff of a possible border tension rising near the bridge, and Renard had supposedly come to ’assess the barony’s compliance and loyalty.’

But Alaric had seen enough nobles in both his lives to know—

That man wasn’t here for diplomacy.

Not with the way he walked, like every brick of this mansion belonged to him.

Not with the way he talked, casual, smug, as if others were merely another piece in his collection.

Not with the way his eyes lingered on the maids, tracking them like prey, savoring their discomfort.

It made Alaric’s stomach twist.

He clenched his jaw as he walked past the courtyard, heading toward his assigned duties for the day.

His hands itched, not from violence.

But from a deep-rooted, familiar urge.

The urge to break men like Renard.

He had once commanded armies.

Sat on thrones stained with the blood of tyrants.

But now, he scrubbed floors.

As Alaric finished wiping down the last set of marble stairs, he heard it—

Laughter.

Footsteps.

He paused, leaned over the banister slightly, and glanced outside through the archway window.

There he was.

Renard.

Dressed in a deep blue overcoat today, gold accents lining the collar and sleeves. The sun caught the polished buttons on his chest, making him gleam like some regal peacock.

He strolled leisurely across the gravel path, one hand resting on the hilt of his decorative rapier, the other gesturing animatedly as he spoke with the steward.

A woman in her thirties, firm, well-spoken, and usually hard to rattle.

But not today.

She laughed awkwardly at something he said, her shoulders stiff, her eyes not quite meeting his.

But then—

A familiar voice cut through the moment.

"Lord Renard."

Both of them turned.

Selene descended the garden steps, her stride graceful, measured, the sun glinting off her long dark hair.

She wore an emerald, green dress today, matching her eyes simple but elegant. A chain of white-gold beads lined her collar, catching light like frost.

Renard straightened slightly.

"Lady Selene," he said smoothly, the flirtation gone in an instant, replaced with noble charm.

"A pleasure, as always."

"I trust your stay has been comfortable?"

"Mm, not as indulgent as my estate," he said with a smirk.

"But... good enough for a barony." His tone bordered on smug.

They walked slowly down the path.

Renard spoke lightly, as though testing the waters.

"You know, estates like this... they carry a charm. Modesty. Though—" he paused and turned his eyes around the grounds, "—I must say your security seems... lacking."

Selene raised a brow.

Renard chuckled, tapping his fingers lightly on his belt.

"Don’t get me wrong. The atmosphere is serene, peaceful. But I noticed your guards, though have good posture, but slow footwork."

He said, scanning the guards that were doing some basic, mock sparrings.

"They are lacking formal drills. They wouldn’t hold long if someone decided to pressure the borders."

"This is a barony, not a fortress," Selene said coolly, but her tone remained civil.

"Even so," his voice lowering in playful warning, "A beautiful place like this needs better protection. What if anything were to happen to you..." He let the sentence hang, dripping with mock concern.

Selene smiled faintly. "Your concern is appreciated."

But her tone was firm, almost dry.

Then—

Renard suddenly rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms with a lazy smirk.

"Milady," he said, turning away from Selene and facing the small group of guards stationed nearby,

"Would you mind if I borrowed a few of your men for a demonstration?"

Selene’s brow twitched faintly.

"A demonstration?"

Renard didn’t wait.

He clapped his hands once.

"You three, step forward."

The guards hesitated, exchanging unsure glances, but one of them eventually stepped up, prompting the others to follow.

Alaric tilted his head slightly, watching from above.

Renard rolled his wrist, loosening it like a bored swordsman in a tavern.

"I noticed earlier... your footwork’s off. Your left flank’s too open. A trained thief with a butter knife would gut you before you could blink."

He chuckled lightly as he stepped into position.

"Let’s call this... a friendly correction."

Then—

He launched.

The first guard barely had time to raise his blade before Renard’s palm smacked the flat of his sword to the side and kicked his leg out from under him.

The man dropped with a grunt.

The second and third rushed in together.

Renard ducked under the swing, pivoted, and delivered a sharp elbow to one’s ribs and kicked the other in the thigh, sending both staggering back.

When the third guard dropped his sword from the pressure, Renard spun it in his fingers and stepped back, tossing it back toward him with a grin.

"Better."

He turned to Selene, chest heaving lightly from exertion.

"It’s been a while since I’ve moved. I feel... rusty." He flashed a charming smile.

"Why don’t you send me your strongest knight, Lady Selene?"

His grin widened.

"Let’s have a duel. For fun, of course."

A quiet pause followed.

The wind rustled through the trees.

Selene regarded him for a long moment, her expression still unreadable.

Then nodded.

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