The Extra's Rise
Chapter 598 - 598: Savage Communion (2)

The walk down to the main gate felt like a descent into destiny. Each step carried the weight of two years of preparation, countless hours of training, and the knowledge that everything I'd worked toward was about to be tested in the most direct way possible.

Meilyn and Kali flanked me as we approached the checkpoint, their presence both reassuring and reminder of what was at stake. The border guards stepped aside with crisp military precision, though I could see the tension in their postures as they recognized that something unprecedented was unfolding.

'You're really going through with this,' Luna observed, though her mental voice carried approval rather than concern. 'I have to admit, I'm curious to see how the Axe King's bloodline handles surprise.'

'They're about to get an education in modern magical innovation,' I replied with confidence.

The Savage Communion delegation had arranged itself in a loose semicircle around their leader, creating an impromptu arena that spoke of people accustomed to settling disputes through combat. As I approached, I could feel the weight of their attention settling on me like a physical thing—dozens of hostile gazes evaluating, measuring, searching for weakness.

The son of the Axe King stood at the center of the formation, and seeing him up close confirmed everything Meilyn had observed from a distance. He was tall, clearly older than me, and carrying himself with the kind of confident authority that came from a lifetime of knowing you were exceptional. His armor was masterwork quality, dark metal inlaid with silver patterns that I recognized as enhancement runes of considerable sophistication.

But it was his eyes that truly marked him as his father's son—golden orbs that held the same predatory intelligence I remembered from our encounter two years ago, though tempered with youth and perhaps a touch of arrogance.

"Arthur Nightingale," he said as I came within speaking distance, his voice carrying the kind of casual authority that suggested he'd never doubted he would get what he wanted. "I was beginning to think you might choose cowardice over honor."

"Gideon Ironmaw," I replied, having recognized him from intelligence reports I'd reviewed during my studies of the Axe King's background. The family name was as direct as their approach to problem-solving. "I was simply taking time to appreciate the dramatic presentation. Very impressive—bringing an entire convoy just to issue a personal challenge."

His smile was sharp enough to cut steel. "Dramatic presentation ensures that there can be no misunderstanding about the seriousness of our intentions. My father's compact with you was made in haste, during circumstances that didn't allow proper evaluation of your... potential."

The way he said 'potential' made it clear he found the concept laughable.

"And you're here to conduct that evaluation?" I asked with mild curiosity.

"I'm here to demonstrate that some honors cannot be earned through patience and training," Gideon replied, his hand moving to rest on the weapon at his side. "True strength is inherited, refined through bloodline and breeding. It cannot be simply... acquired."

'Arrogant little bastard, isn't he?' Luna commented with obvious distaste. 'His father was dangerous but respectful. This one seems to have inherited the power but not the wisdom.'

"Interesting philosophy," I said aloud. "I suppose we'll have an opportunity to test it shortly."

"Indeed." Gideon stepped forward, and I could feel the magical pressure radiating from him intensifying. His power signature was impressive—not quite at his father's level, but far beyond what most people achieved at our age. "The terms are simple. Single combat, to yield or incapacitation. Victory demonstrates worthiness to maintain the compact. Defeat... voids it entirely."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then my father's obligation to wait six years is immediately dissolved." Gideon's smile widened. "Though I suspect that outcome would be less... educational than what I'm offering."

There was something in his tone that suggested he viewed this entire encounter as a form of entertainment. The kind of casual cruelty that came from growing up believing other people existed primarily for your amusement.

"Then I accept," I said simply.

"Excellent." Gideon moved to create space between us, his delegation stepping back to form a proper fighting circle. "Shall we begin?"

Without further preamble, he drew his weapon, and I immediately understood why he carried such confidence. The axe that emerged from its specialized sheath was magnificent—a two-handed weapon that radiated power in ways that made the air itself shimmer. The blade appeared to be forged from some kind of dark metal that seemed to absorb light, while the handle was wrapped in leather that looked suspiciously like it might be made from something exotic and dangerous.

Most importantly, the weapon's magical signature immediately marked it as an Ancient-grade artifact—the kind of weapon that most people only read about in historical texts. It was probably worth more than entire kingdoms, and it had undoubtedly been crafted specifically for the Axe King's bloodline.

'Well,' Luna observed with interest, 'that's certainly impressive. Ancient-grade weapons are nothing to take lightly.'

'Neither is Evolvis,' I replied, drawing my own sword with the kind of fluid motion that had become second nature after years of practice.

The contrast between our weapons was immediately apparent to anyone with magical sensitivity. Where Gideon's axe radiated dark power and ancient craftsmanship, Evolvis hummed with a different kind of Ancient-grade energy—the kind of adaptive potential that marked it as something that had grown beyond its original parameters. My sword had evolved alongside my development, advancing its capabilities to match my skills, and it now possessed Ancient-grade qualities that went far beyond traditional weapon crafting.

"Interesting," Gideon said, studying Evolvis with obvious appreciation and perhaps a hint of surprise. "Ancient-grade as well."

Gideon's posture shifted as he prepared for combat, and I could see the years of professional training that had shaped his approach to violence. His stance was perfect, his grip on the Ancient weapon confident, his positioning calculated to maximize the advantages his superior reach and weapon weight would provide.

But what struck me most was his expression—the kind of pleased anticipation that suggested he expected this to be easy.

'He's underestimating you,' Luna observed. 'That could be useful.'

'It's about to be educational,' I agreed, feeling Valeria's presence stirring at the edges of my consciousness, ready to integrate the moment I gave the command.

"Ready when you are," I said, my smile matching his for sharpness.

Gideon's grin was predatory as he settled into his own fighting stance. "Try not to disappoint me, Arthur Nightingale. I'd hate for this to be over too quickly."

The irony of his statement wasn't lost on me. In a few moments, one of us was indeed going to be very disappointed by how quickly this ended.

I was fairly certain it wasn't going to be me.

"Begin when ready," called Deputy Pope Ravok, apparently serving as an impromptu referee for this impromptu duel.

Gideon's confidence was palpable as he hefted his Ancient weapon, clearly expecting his superior equipment and bloodline advantages to carry the day.

He was about to learn that sometimes evolution trumps inheritance.