Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 55: The Challenge (1)

Chapter 55: The Challenge (1)

The Earth Clan Mansion remained outwardly calm, yet an unspoken tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. Servants and warriors alike moved with an unconscious wariness as if sensing an inevitable storm approaching. The usual routines persisted, but there was an undercurrent of unease, an anticipation of something about to break.

Deep within the mansion, in the private training hall of his chambers, Thutmose was engaged in combat training, his body moving with lethal precision. The hall was grand in size, lined with reinforced stone walls, its floor carved with intricate engravings to withstand the force of battle. In his grip, a gleaming khopesh—a curved Egyptian sword with a hooked end, designed for both slashing and disarming—flashed under the dim lighting. On his other arm, he bore a heavy shield, broad and reinforced, its golden inlays depicting the mighty earth itself.

Facing him were three of the clan’s Grandmaster-ranked warriors, each formidable in their own right. One wielded a long spear, sharp and deadly, moving with calculated thrusts. Another brandished a sword, his strikes swift and relentless. The last stood further back, an archer with impeccable precision, his fingers always poised to release another arrow. Though they were all Grandmasters like Thutmose, they had deliberately restricted their elemental abilities for a purely martial contest, as had he. Here, skill alone would determine the victor.

The battle was relentless.

The spearman lunged, his weapon darting forward with blinding speed. Thutmose sidestepped with minimal movement, letting the strike brush past him before slamming his khopesh against the shaft of the spear. The sheer force sent vibrations down the spearman’s arms, making him stagger back. In the same breath, the swordsman closed in, his blade carving an arc toward Thutmose’s side. With practiced ease, Thutmose raised his shield, absorbing the impact with a resounding clang before countering with a brutal bash that sent the swordsman stumbling backward.

From the distance, the archer lost an arrow, its trajectory aimed straight at Thutmose’s unguarded back. But before it could reach him, he spun on his heel, bringing up his shield just in time. The arrow splintered upon impact, yet the archer did not falter, already knocking another with seamless efficiency.

Thutmose moved like a predator, relentless and unyielding. He dashed forward, closing the gap between himself and the spearman, who barely had time to react. The hooked end of the khopesh caught the spear’s shaft, twisting it out of position. In the same motion, Thutmose struck with the shield, sending his opponent crashing into the ground.

The swordsman attempted to capitalize on the opening, launching a powerful downward slash, but Thutmose parried it with fluid ease, twisting his wrist to divert the force. With a step forward, he locked blades with his opponent before using his superior strength to force the other man’s weapon aside. In the next breath, his shield came up, slamming into the swordsman’s chest and sending him sprawling.

The archer lost two more arrows in rapid succession, aiming for the small gaps in Thutmose’s defenses. But Thutmose anticipated them, twisting his body just enough to avoid one while raising his khopesh to deflect the second. Before the archer could fire again, Thutmose was upon him. His blade swept low, forcing the archer to leap back, but it was too late. In a blur of motion, Thutmose closed the distance, slamming the hilt of his khopesh into the archer’s gut. The man crumpled to the floor, winded.

The battle was over.

Thutmose stood at the center, his breath steady, his body unscathed. Around him, his opponents slowly pushed themselves to their feet, nodding in silent acknowledgment of his overwhelming skill. He had defeated all three of them.

Yara, who had entered the room a few minutes earlier, remained by the entrance, waiting patiently. She knew better than to interrupt. As the battle concluded, four maids, who had been present since the beginning, hurried forward, offering towels and water to each warrior. Thutmose accepted one without a word, wiping away the faint sheen of sweat before nodding toward Yara.

Without another word, he exited the training hall with Yara following closely behind. As they walked through the grand corridors of the mansion, he dismissed the other warriors and maids, leaving only the two of them.

Upon entering his chambers, he turned to Yara, his voice calm yet firm. "Status update."

Yara clasped her hands together, her expression impassive. "No changes, my lord. Lady Nandi and her son have made no moves. It is... strange. Normally, by now, Mankhaure would have already done something foolish."

Thutmose’s gaze darkened. He had the same thought. Lady Nandi was not one to remain passive, and her son was even less so. It was unlike them to be this quiet.

"However," Yara continued, "I have noticed something else. The Third Princess and the Youngest Prince have been seen together far more often than usual. Normally, they avoid each other, yet now they seem to be... working together."

Thutmose’s brows furrowed. Something was brewing. Something dangerous.

Before the thought even registered a thunderous crash echoed through the hall outside, followed by hurried footsteps and startled voices.

Then, the doors to his chambers slammed open with enough force to rattle the walls.

"YOUNG MASTER!" a guard’s voice called, but it was drowned out by the sheer force of the man himself storming into the room.

Mankhaure’s eyes were ablaze with unfiltered rage. His usually well-groomed appearance was slightly disheveled, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as though he had barely contained himself from tearing through the entire mansion. The presence of warriors stationed outside mattered little—he had come here with a purpose, and nothing would stop him.

"Thutmose!" he bellowed, his voice thick with fury. "Enough of this farce! You think you can sit comfortably on what is mine?"

Before Thutmose could respond, Mankhaure took another bold step forward, his presence overwhelming. The air in the room tensed like a bowstring pulled taut.

"I challenge you," he declared, his voice a growl of barely restrained violence. "The Ta-meri. No politics, no scheming—just you and me. Man to man, a battle winner takes all"

A deadly silence followed. Even the guards outside hesitated, their breaths caught in their throats.

Mankhaure’s lips curled into a snarl. "Let’s settle this once and for all. I will take what is rightfully mine."