Chapter 42: Duel of Iron and Light
The Iron Empire did not wait long.
At dawn, their envoy arrived—ten knights in ceremonial blacksteel armor, bearing the banner of the Iron Empress: a silver hammer striking through a crimson sun.
They came not to negotiate.
They came to challenge.
Jean stood in the courtyard of the Luther stronghold, surrounded by stone statues of ancient champions—every one a former Patriarch, including Martin Luther himself.
Across from her stood Duke Erich Stahlbrand, commander of the Iron Empress's Third Legion and one of her most loyal warlords. He was broad-shouldered, clad in scarlet-etched armor, and wielded a war axe etched with lightning runes.
The duel was to be public. Witnessed by both clans. An ancient rite to assess strength without bloodshed—unless it became necessary.
Jean stepped forward. Her white hair shimmered like moonlight. Eclipsion was strapped across her back. But for this battle, she drew Solstice, the blade of the Emissary.
Erich grinned. "I expected Charles, not a girl."
Jean's voice was calm. "You challenged the Luther Clan. You get me."
He laughed, then pointed his axe.
"Try not to die too quickly."
---
The duel began in a flash of motion.
Erich charged with the force of a battering ram, his axe swinging in a wide arc that shattered stone as it missed. Jean spun beneath it, her aura flickering like a comet's trail. Solstice sang as it met the axe's haft.
Sparks burst. Power clashed.
Erich's strength was monstrous—but Jean's speed was divine.
She ducked, weaved, and struck—light slicing through armor like silk.
But he adapted quickly.
"You move like firelight," Erich growled, "but fire dies to iron!"
He drove his knee into the ground. A shockwave of aura burst outward, cracking the courtyard floor. Jean was thrown back, skidding to a halt.
She wiped blood from her lip.
The Emissary sigil on her chest glowed faintly.
She breathed in, closing her eyes.
Then drew Eclipsion.
The moment the black blade left its sheath, the sky dimmed. A strange heat radiated from it—like standing before a forge ready to consume everything.
Erich paused.
"What… is that?"
Jean didn't answer.
She vanished.
A blink.
A flash.
When she reappeared behind him, Eclipsion had already struck.
The haft of the war axe split in two.
Erich staggered. His aura shattered like glass. The force of the blow had burned the runes clean off his armor.
He turned, pale. "You… shouldn't have that sword."
Jean looked over her shoulder.
"Then you shouldn't have challenged me."
He collapsed.
---
The Luther Clan roared.
The Iron envoys lowered their weapons in silence.
Jean stood alone in the ring, flames dancing from the blade she now held with growing familiarity.
She raised her eyes to the watching figures.
To her grandfather.
To her siblings.
To the shadows where Silvia might soon appear.
Then to the heavens—where clouds swirled unnaturally.
The duel was won.
But war was no longer a question.
It was a promise.
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