Chapter 201: 201: Brutal Blow
The fight broke out between the two parties with a sudden clash of steel and a roar of fury.
The guards attacked Adrian with their swords, wagging skillful slashes toward him in rapid succession. But Adrian wasn’t inferior in the least. He had the skill of a seasoned warrior, and the sword in his hands moved like an extension of his body. In moments he sent the guards to their knees, their backs and faces hitting the cold floor.
In less than a single minute, he had taken the last guard down to his knees. Adrian placed the sharp edge of his sword against the man’s neck and smiled while turning his piercing gaze toward Marquis Dean.
"So? What did you say again?" he demanded, voice low but deadly.
Marquis Dean smirked. "I guess you got your strength back. You seem pretty agile today. But that doesn’t mean you’ll get away with anything."
Adrian tilted his head, a thin smile curving his lips. "Is that so?" he asked, and with a swift kick he knocked the guard flat. The man collapsed, unconscious. Without hesitation Adrian sent his sword clean through the guard’s head.
Blood flooded the marble floor as Eden blinked in shock. "That was brutal," he muttered under his breath.
Marquis Dean pulled out his own sword, ready to attack. "Let’s see who takes the last glory."
"Are you sure about that? It seems the Marquis of Silvana doesn’t value his petty life," Adrian said with a cold, mocking expression.
"I do. But I’d rather fall dead than watch you walk out of here alive to live another day as the Grand Marquis. Over my dead body," Marquis Dean swore, his voice thick with rage.
"Is that so? Then it will be interesting to see your dead body."
The two men lunged, breaking out in a furious sword fight. They exchanged skillful clashes of steel, each strike sharper and faster than the last, their blades sparking as they pushed and pulled against each other.
Eden stood to the side, watching as the duel unfolded. The ringing sounds of clashing swords filled the chamber, and the gathered onlookers—nervous servants and minor nobles—watched in tense anticipation.
Marquis Dean wove his sword through a sudden opening and nearly cut through Adrian’s hands, but Adrian dodged and countered with a sweeping strike that tore through the sleeve of Dean’s shirt.
Blood spilled as Marquis Dean staggered back, clutching his injured hand. He groaned in pain, glaring at Adrian. "You monster..."
"Do you think I was given the position of Grand Marquis just because I looked handsome?" Adrian’s voice dripped with contempt. "Well, today you’ll learn the real reason behind it."
He advanced steadily toward Marquis Dean, who instinctively stepped back. His dominant hand throbbed and bled, his grip weakening—his very strength slipping away. Adrian had targeted his weakness perfectly, cutting where it hurt most.
"Stay back, you... bastard," Dean snapped. "Stay away from me..."
Adrian smiled faintly. "What? You don’t want to see me close up anymore? Don’t you want to see more of me?"
Marquis Dean continued to retreat, desperate to escape. But Adrian had no intention of letting him go. He strode forward and swung his sword again, slicing across Dean’s other hand.
Both of Marquis Dean’s hands now bled freely. Disabled and trembling, he dropped his sword—his fingers no longer able to hold it.
"Do you think you can just kill me like that? Even if you do, do you think you’ll go free?" Dean glared up at Adrian with pure detest, teeth clenched against the pain.
"Do I look like I care?" Adrian asked flatly. He used the tip of his blade to lift Marquis Dean’s chin, forcing him to look up. "If the Grand Marquis chooses to take your head on the charge of treachery, do you think anyone will dare question me?"
Marquis Dean glared back, struggling to reach for his fallen sword. Blood still poured from his shredded hands as he fought to rise, defiance flickering in his eyes.
"I won’t let you have your way..." His voice wavered as he tried to lunge forward again.
But Adrian didn’t give him the chance. He swung his blade once more, slicing deeper into the already-wounded hands. Fresh blood gushed as a strangled cry tore from Dean’s throat. Pain engulfed him and he fell backward onto the stone floor.
"Ahhh!" he screamed, rolling in agony, his body writhing as he tried to steady himself.
The lesser marquises and attendants behind them stared in frozen shock. None dared to intervene. Cowards to the core, they stood rooted in fear, watching as Adrian methodically broke Marquis Dean before their eyes.
Adrian walked to the fallen man and planted his boot on the bleeding hands. He leaned his full weight down, grinding the wounds and intensifying the pain.
"Ahhh! You monster! Let go of me, you bastard!" Dean cried out, but Adrian pressed harder, his expression almost serene.
"Why? What’s the problem? Don’t you want to play anymore?" Adrian scoffed, clearly enjoying the terror written across his opponent’s face.
Eden blinked rapidly, the brutal sight almost too much to bear. He had read in chronicles that Adrian was harsh—a man of unflinching cruelty, gray in morality and cold in execution. Now he understood. Adrian was exactly as the legends described: a ruthless figure who didn’t flinch at the suffering of others, a man who could kill without a second thought.
He was the very embodiment of a brutal warrior, a man feared across the realm for good reason.
"Let me go... let me go now..." Marquis Dean’s voice was weak, trembling, as he tried to roll away. Blood trailed beneath him, a dark slick on the stone.
Adrian followed with deliberate steps, smiling as he spoke. "It seems you still have the strength to escape," he said, almost teasing. With a sudden movement he dragged the edge of his blade across both of Dean’s legs, sending another gush of crimson across the floor.
"Ahh!" Dean’s scream echoed through the hall as fresh pain seized him. Tears welled in his eyes while the blood spread wider, pooling until it looked as if he were drowning in it.
Adrian kicked him near the wounds, watching him convulse. "Aren’t you going to kill me again? Come on! Get up and kill me!" he taunted, punctuating the words with another sharp kick.
Marquis Dean could barely breathe, let alone speak. He rolled on the floor, groaning and grumbling, struggling to remain conscious as the agony threatened to swallow him whole.
But Adrian had no intention of mercy. Not yet. His eyes were dark and cold as he raised his sword high, ready to deliver a final, more brutal blow.