Ascension Of The Villain

Chapter 206: The Duel

Iyana stepped into the arena, her boots echoing lightly against the stone floor. The sight was as expected—only half of the audience was filled with spectators, their hushed murmurs barely filling the vast space.

It was a subdued atmosphere. As if the whole crowd anticipated a foregone conclusion, none more so than Iyana herself had until a few minutes ago.

Her eyes locked onto Commander Pembrooke. He stood before her—without the wheelchair he was often bound to. The only reason he was able to do so was that his legs weren't completely crippled, they were only weakened to the point they couldn't bear his weight for more than five minutes due to something along the lines of nerve damage or something.

But Iyana could see that his feet were already starting to tremble ever so slightly. He shouldn't hold for much long.

As the arbiter called for their names and signaled for the contenders to bow to each other, Iyana's eyes met Pembrooke's—wild and aggressive. It was nothing unusual.

William Pembrooke has always been known for his hot temper. His fighting style too was famous for being unpredictable and brutal. Some used to say that if he didn't work for the military, he might have become the most dangerous mercenary to ever exist, and Iyana wholeheartedly agreed with them.

But nobody says that anymore. Now, they laughed and mocked him behind his back, such that nobody would hire him now as their watchman, let alone a mercenary.

It was truly a shame. Iyana had always wanted to beat her boss in a fair and square fight and win.

As the two of them faced off against each other, their sword steady and eyes focused like hawks, the arbiter waved off the red flag, signaling the start of the duel.

Iyana was off her feet at the speed of lightning, not giving Pembrooke a full second to swing his sword properly. Instantly, he was backed into defense mode.

The audience gasped loudly at Iyana's fast charge, whispering, "Wow, she really wants to end this duel in under a minute."

"Please, tell me I did not just travel three hours for a one-minute duel," someone muttered in horror.

Iyana continued to strike Pembrooke mercilessly, her swings swift and relentless. It was visible how Pembrooke was struggling to fend her off. His movements were slow and predictable.

Gosh, he really is losing.

Iyana clicked her tongue, frustrated at herself for believing everything Leila said.

Her swings slowed, restraining her strength a little in order not to seem like a heartless swordsman attacking a weak man.

However, as she slowed, Pembrooke's attacks got faster and more desperate. This might be his best shot at going down with some dignity at least.

But Iyana soon decided that she wasn't here for a drawn-out display of mercy; this was about strength. She hadn't practiced with Terrence all week just so she could show mercy out here.

Her blade gleamed as she shifted her stance, ready to end it in one decisive blow. With a single slash, she aimed to throw away his sword.

However, everything shifted in a heartbeat. Iyana had been poised to strike, but it was Pembrooke who made the first move—his blade flashed through the air, aimed at her abdomen with blinding speed.

But Iyana had already sensed something was off. Without missing a beat, she propelled herself backward, flipping through the air, gaining precious distance between them. Discover exclusive content at m,v l'-NovelFire

Damn it. I was a fool to doubt Leila. He almost had me, and I wasn't even ready for this.

She eyed Pembrooke, her gaze steady, unlike the audience whose gasps and wide-eyed stares filled the arena. Their disbelief hung in the air as a ripple of energy pulsed from Pembrooke. His muscles bulged grotesquely, his face contorted as veins throbbed beneath his skin. It was monstrous.

"Is that what Aura looks like?" a child whispered, awe lacing their voice.

No, this wasn't Aura. Aura was radiant, ethereal—this was something far darker, more sinister. It didn't enhance the body like this.

This was artificial. It was the drugs. Strength-enhancing pills. Just like Leila had warned.

In the original story, Iyana had been too cocky, too sure of her victory. It was that arrogance that blindsided her when Pembrooke turned feral. But this Iyana was different. She hadn't let confidence dull her edge. She had trained relentlessly for this duel. She was ready for whatever came at her.

Even if Leila hadn't tipped her off, she would have caught the shift in Pembrooke's demeanor.

Now fully in control, Pembrooke's stance solidified. His legs steadied, his eyes burning with raw intent as he lunged—ferocious, like a tiger about to pounce.

After this, everything blurred into motion. Iyana gritted her teeth, forced into a defensive stance as Pembrooke pressed on, his strikes relentless, fueled by the drug's power.

But as brutal as his attacks were, she felt it—a thrill, adrenaline coursing through her veins like fire.

Their blades clashed, each impact sending shockwaves through the arena. The force of their duel shattered the stone beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing across the ground. Aura Knights at their peak—each blow could tear a house in two.

Silver light erupted around Iyana, crackling with energy, her Aura responding to Pembrooke's glowering presence. To the audience, they were nothing more than two radiant figures, too fast to track. All they had were the sounds—the clash of steel, the roar of power.

This was what they had come to see. A duel worth every heartbeat.

As they fought across the battlefield, Iyana managed to stab Pembrooke's shoulder, but it barely slowed him. He didn't even flinch. Whatever drug coursed through him had numbed him to pain, turning him into an unstoppable force.

Pembrooke's sword arced toward her neck, and she barely managed to lean back in time. The blade grazed her cheek, a sharp sting, but she didn't falter. Instead, she swept her leg under his, aiming to throw him off balance. But the madman turned it into a cartwheel, flipping out of her reach, his form eerily graceful.

He landed several meters away, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with exertion. Iyana mirrored him, breath frantic, heart pounding. Her eyes gleamed with excitement while his blazed with something darker—bloodlust.

This wasn't just a duel to him anymore. Pembrooke wasn't fighting to defeat her; he was trying to kill her. To separate her head from her body.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, keeping her sword raised. It didn't matter what he wanted; she wasn't going to let him have it today.

Their eyes met. And without warning, they lunged at each other again. But something went wrong with Pembrooke—His aura spiraled out of control, his strikes becoming heavier, more erratic. His power was wild, unrestrained, each blow driving her further back. She could barely keep up.

Suddenly, she felt a cold stone against her back. The wall—a dead-end.

She was cornered.

For the first time, panic clawed at the edges of her mind. Pembrooke had her trapped—no space to dodge, no escape.

The audience leaned forward, hearts pounding as they watched Iyana, their hands gripping the edge of their seats. Some whispered prayers, others clenched their fists, desperately rooting for her. It was a good thing there was no betting going on today, otherwise, they all would be losing their minds right now for betting on the wrong person.

A pair of wine-red eyes followed the duel below, Vyan's face calm and unreadable, even as Iyana found herself cornered. He remained comfortably leaned back in his seat, as if he were watching nothing more than a leisurely show.

"Oh, she is in a real tight spot now," Clyde commented from beside him, nervously bouncing his leg as his eyes flickered between Iyana and the frenzied Pembrooke. "You sure you're not worried? It's getting a little too intense."

Vyan's lips curled into a lazy smile. "She will figure it out. She always does."

Clyde raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. "You say that with a lot of confidence. But I don't know, man—she is looking a bit on the losing side right now. That guy is on a whole new beast-like level. What if your confidence gets her killed?"

Vyan chuckled. "Like I would ever let that happen."

"Uh-huh," Clyde muttered, clearly unconvinced. He stole a glance at Vyan, who seemed completely unfazed, as if this duel was already written in his favor. "You do realize you are not the one down there, right?"

Vyan simply shrugged, the playful glint in his eyes never leaving. "Iyana doesn't need saving. Not from someone like that."

Meanwhile, across the arena, Leila's teeth clattered as she gnawed on her nails, her nerves shot to pieces. The sight of Iyana cornered sent a surge of dread through her. This is what I had feared all along.

"She's supposed to lose," Leila muttered under her breath, her hands trembling. "She's not meant to become Commander... not like this."

In the novel, Iyana had gained her Aura in the aftermath of a deadly fight with Vyan, but that hadn't been enough to secure victory in this duel against Pembrooke. Plot convenience, that's all it was. She was destined to be the Empress of Haynes, not the Commander. This loss was inevitable.

Leila's gaze shifted to Vyan, who was on the other side of the audience.

This defeat should make Iya realize she can't save him. Leila's thoughts twisted, her heart heavy with the future she believed was coming. No matter how hard she tries, it will all be in vain. She can't change fate.