Chained Hearts: From Slavery to Sovereignty
Chapter 41: Clash of Princes

Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Clash of Princes

On one side stood Prince Dorian, the first Prince of Aetherlyn, who is known for his precise skill with a sword and his bloodthirsty nature on the battlefield.

He wore a light linean tunic that allowed him to move swiftly, and his hand rested firmly on the hilt of his sword—a weapon he wielded with deadly accuracy. His expression was calm, though his eyes gleamed with the thrill of the challenge.

Facing him was Prince Vincent, the Crown Prince of Drakonia, the kingdom of the Drakonian race. Vincent was a striking figure; his eyes were cold and unreadable, containing humor in his eyes.

His reputation as a fearsome warrior preceded him, known for his merciless victories on the battlefield. In his hand, he gripped a heavy sword with a dragon-forged hilt, its blade a reflection of the deadly power Vincent held.

A crowd of knights and courtiers had gathered around them. They were eager to witness this rare clash of royalty. Some shouted encouragement, while others watched in silent anticipation, their eyes fixed on the two princes.

Some hidden among the pillars and arches, a group of maids whispered excitedly, their faces flushed as they peeked at the spectacle from a distance.

Dorian took a deep breath, his focus narrowing on Vincent. "I didn’t expect you to accept the challenge so quickly," he said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of provocation.

Vincent’s lips curled into a small smile. "Why waste time? Let’s see if Aetherlyn’s prince is as sharp with a sword as he is with words."

With that, the duel began.

Their swords clashed with a resounding clang, the sound ringing through the training grounds. Vincent moved first, quick and precise, aiming for Dorian’s side with a low, calculated strike.

Doria deflected the blow with ease, his heavier sword swinging back with a force that sent a shudder through everyone’s spine, but Vincent remained still without feeling any impact of Dorian’s strong move.

The two circled each other, their blades glinting in the sunlight, their movements a sharp contrast—Vincent, all speed and agility, and Dorian, a towering figure of brute strength.

The crowd erupted in cheers, knights shouting as the princes engaged in a flurry of attacks and counterattacks, their swords moving faster than the eye could follow.

Vincent dove under a powerful swing from Dorian. his footwork light as he spun around to deliver a quick strike to Dorian’s exposed side. But Dorian was ready, his sword coming up just in time to block, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground.

"You’re fast," Dorian said, his voice coming in a low growl. "But speed alone won’t save you, Prince Vincent."

Vincent faces flushed from the excitment, the blood in his veins pumping voluntarily.

Vincent grinned, unfazed. "We’ll see."

The fight continued. It was a deadly dance of steel and skill. Dorian’s strength was undeniable—every swing of his sword carried the weight of someone who was used to dominating his opponents.

Yet Vincent, with his sharper reflexes and tactical mind, evaded many of Dorian’s heavier strikes, slipping in and out of Dorian’s reach like a shadow.

From the sidelines, the crowd grew louder, the knights rallying behind their prince. But Dorian’s presence was unnerving—there was something about the way he moved, the way he never seemed to tire despite the intensity of the fight, that kept everyone on edge.

In the shadows, one of the maids whispered, "Prince Vincent is holding his own, but... Prince Vincent... he’s terrifying."

Another maid nodded, eyes wide. "Look at the way he moves. It’s like he’s toying with him.

Vincent leaped back, barely dodging a strike that would have knocked the wind out of him. He could feel the weight of Dorian’s strength in every clash, but he wasn’t about to back down. Not when the real fun begins now.

With a sudden burst of speed, Vincent lunged forward, his sword a blur as it aimed for Dorian’s shoulder. For a moment, it seemed like the strike would land.

But Dorian, with inhuman reflexes, caught the blade with his own, pushing back with such force that Vincent was sent stumbling.

Before Vincent could recover, Dorian advanced, his sword a relentless force as he drove Vincent back with each powerful swing.

The Aetherlyn prince’s strength was overwhelming, his strikes heavy and precise. It was clear now why he was feared across the kingdoms—not only for his power but for the way he seemed to control the battle with ease.

Vincent gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow as he deflected another blow. He knew he couldn’t match Dorian’s strength head-on. He needed to think to outmaneuver him.

Dorian smirked, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "You’re good, Vincent. But not good enough."

Vincent’s heart raced, his mind working furiously. He had one chance to turn the tide of the duel. He watched Dorian’s movements, waiting for the slightest opening.

Then it happened.

Dorian swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming for a finishing blow. But Vincent, quick as lightning, dropped to the ground, rolling beneath the swing and coming up behind him. In one fluid motion, Dorian struck, his blade slashing across Vincent’s armor in a glancing blow that drew gasps from the crowd.

Dorian turned, his expression unreadable, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Clever."

Vincent smirked. "I’m full of surprises."

But the moment of victory was short-lived. With a sudden, powerful twist, Dorian swung his sword again, the force of his strike sending Vincent’s blade flying from his hand. The crowd fell silent as Dorian stepped forward, his sword aimed at Vincent’s chest.

Vincent stood still, breathing hard but meeting Dorian’s gaze without flinching. The air was thick with tension, every eye fixed on the two princes.

For a moment, it seemed like the fight was over.

But then Dorian did something unexpected. He lowered his sword, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You fight well, Vincent. Better than most."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, surprised by the compliment but too exhausted to respond with anything more than a nod.

The crowd erupted into cheers once more, knights shouting in admiration for both princes.

"You’re not as bad as they say," Vincent said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Dorian chuckled softly. "Likewise."

Vincent looked around to find his sword, but it was not in his sight..

Here...is your sword. A hesitated voice spoke out between the silence.

Vincent heard a young voice, and when he looked at the source of it, his expression froze.

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