Leon leaned against one of the marble pillars, his expression unreadable as he scanned the room. So these are my so-called rivals, he mused, his sharp eyes picking apart their stances, their nervous glances, their overconfidence.
Across the hall, Victor Varen smirked, his polished armor gleaming under the lights. "I hope you’re ready, Eryndor. It’d be a shame if you humiliated yourself before the real tournament even starts."
Leon met his gaze with an easy smirk. "I’ll try to keep it interesting for you, Victor."
Celica appeared beside Leon, arms crossed, a half-amused glint in her emerald eyes. "I heard you’ve been busy. Word is, you’ve been training harder than anyone expected."
"I like to be prepared," Leon said with a casual shrug.
"Prepared or not, they'll be coming for you." Celica gestured toward a group of nobles whispering and casting suspicious glances his way. "You're an unknown, and that makes you dangerous."
Leon’s fingers grazed the hidden Aether Gauntlet under his sleeve. "Let them come. I could use the practice."
A booming voice cut through the chatter. "All participants, step forward!"
The estate's steward, an elderly man with a voice that brooked no nonsense, gestured toward the center of the hall where a large dueling platform had been set up. Each noble stepped onto the platform, and Leon followed suit, his steps measured, calculating.
System Notification: Event Detected.
Trial Challenge Initiated: Prove Your Strength.
Objective: Win your first duel without revealing too much of your abilities.
Reward: +5 Agility, +3 Precision.
Leon’s eyes flickered with amusement. As if I’d go all out in the first round.
"First match!" The steward called. "Leon Eryndor versus Gareth Winthell!"
A tall, broad-shouldered noble stepped forward, his confidence palpable. He wielded a heavy claymore, its enchanted blade humming with latent energy. "Eryndor, huh? I heard you prefer tricks over skill," Gareth sneered. "Let’s see how far that gets you."
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Leon smirked, stepping onto the dueling platform and casually rolling his shoulders. "You talk too much."
The steward raised his hand. "Begin!"
Gareth wasted no time, charging forward with a roar, his claymore crashing down with enough force to split stone. Leon sidestepped effortlessly, his footwork fluid. He could hear the audience murmuring at his unorthodox movements—too fast, too precise for someone who should have been raised with rigid noble training.
Gareth growled in frustration and swung again, but Leon ducked low, using his Aether Gauntlet to subtly augment his speed. He tapped Gareth’s ribs with the flat of his blade, dancing out of reach before the noble could react.
"Too slow," Leon taunted.
Gareth snarled, his claymore igniting with fire magic as he swung furiously. Leon, however, had already anticipated it. With a quick step, he shifted behind his opponent and brought his blade up to Gareth’s throat.
The match was over before it truly began.
"Winner—Leon Eryndor!" The steward’s voice echoed through the hall.
A stunned silence followed, then whispers.
"Did you see that?"
"He's fast... too fast."
Victor scowled from the sidelines, his jaw tightening. Celica smirked. "You’re enjoying yourself too much," she said as Leon stepped down from the platform.
"I can’t help it," Leon replied, his smirk widening. "It’s nice to stretch my legs."
System Notification: Objective Completed.
Reward Gained: +5 Agility, +3 Precision.
Leon felt the slight increase in his reflexes and smiled to himself. Piece by piece, I’m building something unstoppable.
Later that Night
Leon sat cross-legged in his room, the system screen hovering before him.
Status:
Name: Leon Eryndor
Class: Arcane Marksman
Abilities:
- Gun Manifestation
- Magic Bullet Creation
- Precision Burst (New!)
The new skill intrigued him. It allowed him to fire three bullets in rapid succession with increased accuracy—a perfect tool for quick, decisive strikes. But it wasn't enough.
"I need more," Leon muttered. He wasn’t just here to survive—he was here to dominate.
He reached into his satchel and pulled out the leather-bound book he had stolen from the vault. The Principles of Ether Combat.
As he read through the pages, new possibilities formed in his mind. Techniques that fused mana manipulation with physical combat. His assassin instincts adapted the knowledge quickly—concealed movements, strikes that suppressed magical signatures, techniques to counter magic users.
I can integrate this with my own style, Leon thought, a slow grin spreading across his face.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Celica stepped in without waiting for permission. "Still awake?"
"Strategizing," Leon said, closing the book.
She crossed her arms, eyeing him. "You surprised everyone today. Even me."
Leon leaned back. "Good. I like keeping people on their toes."
Celica’s expression grew serious. "But you’re still underestimating the competition. The real threats haven’t shown their cards yet."
Leon’s gaze hardened. "Neither have I."
She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head with a soft laugh. "Tomorrow’s the second round of trials. Don’t get cocky."
"I never do."
As she left, Leon’s smirk faded into a calculating expression. The noble world was a game of masks and shadows, and he was learning to play it well.
The tournament was still ahead, but he was ready for whatever it threw at him.
And when the time came... they'd all see what the Arcane Marksman could truly do.
End of Chapter Five.