I Became the Half-Crippled Young Master of the Ducal Family Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

‘...What just happened?’

Ron Winterbell, who had co to his senses belatedly, looked around with a dazed expression.

‘I was definitely standing right in front of that bastard just a mont ago. What the hell happened...?’

He tried to lift his body but couldn’t move.

A mont later, an intense wave of pain crashed over him, and Ron instinctively bit down hard on his lip.

The place where he now lay was by the wall, tucked in a corner of the training arena.

On top of his body were what appeared to be fragnts of the wall.

‘What is this...’

That’s when the mory returned.

Why he was in such a state.

The unease he had felt the mont he faced that kid. It was an indescribable sense of discomfort. Nothing on the surface seed off, but Ron Winterbell, whose instincts were closer to a beast than a man’s, had sensed danger.

For a month, he had trained like a madman.

More than any effort he had ever made before—far beyond comparison.

The reason was simple.

He hadn’t thought he would lose, but an inexplicable sense of dread kept gnawing at him. Ron, who possessed far sharper intuition than most, may have subconsciously realized that his youngest brother had changed sohow.

That vague sense solidified into certainty the mont he saw Ran Winterbell rise from his wheelchair and walk toward him.

Danger.

That was dangerous.

He had to defeat him here and now.

Losing was not an option.

If he were to lose here, all the status and power he had built within the family would vanish in an instant.

Why he felt that way didn’t matter. Objectively, he knew it was impossible for Ran Winterbell to be stronger than him, but Ron trusted his instincts more than any such facts.

He believed that he had to kill that bastard right here on the spot.

Because if he didn’t, he knew he would end up being killed by that sa bastard soday.

Almost as if to prove that point, Ran Winterbell deflected every one of his attacks with a bizarre style of swordsmanship.

No matter how many tis he swung his sword, it never landed. It was like slashing at thin air.

As ti passed, his anxiety grew.

How was that guy able to walk again?

How had he acquired such a level of swordsmanship?

How could he remain so composed against him?

He couldn’t understand any of it.

In the end, he had decided to risk his life.

The fact that he had to go that far against his half-crippled youngest brother filled him with sha and humiliation, but he also believed that this wasn’t the ti to be worried about pride.

Give up flesh, and take bone.

If he could just find a way to hold him down, he was sure he could kill him—that certainty was what had allowed him to take such a risk.

With a single-minded determination to finish him off this ti, he swung his sword, but the sa phenonon as before occurred.

His sword moved entirely against his will.

He couldn’t understand why, but the power he unleashed seed to scatter into nothing, leaving him with a hollow feeling.

At the sa ti, an imnse shock struck his abdon, launching him into the air and slamming him into the wall.

And now, this was the state he was in.

“...Did I lose?”

He knew better than anyone that his body could no longer move.

Ron Winterbell slowly raised his head and scanned the faces around him.

That damn sister was watching him with a mischievous grin, and even the usually emotionless sister had a trace of agitation on her face.

“Ahahahaha! Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. That idiot Ron actually lost! He lost in the succession match to a half-cripple who couldn’t even properly grip a sword! Puhahahah! Oh, my stomach!”

“...Sister. This isn’t just sothing to laugh about. The fact that child has grown this much...”

“Marian. Don’t tell you’re scared.”

“Of course not.”

“Well, of course. Our sister, the so-called Iron-Blooded Princess, wouldn’t possibly be afraid of soone like that.”

“You know exactly what I an. That child bears a deep grudge against his siblings. He’ll tear through the family in a frenzy to find those responsible for what happened to his body—and his mother. If that happens, Winterbell will be soaked in blood.”

“A bloodbath? That’s inevitable, Marian. As long as all of us are aiming for the head of the family, it’s bound to happen. I know you’re more concerned because of his mother, but let’s not pretend we’re any less monstrous ourselves.”

“...”

Even Lux Winterbell, who always wore a bright smile, now looked shaken. He couldn't even maintain his usual mask in the face of this shocking scene.

“...Ran Winterbell. You really went and caused a stir.”

Then there were the knights and servants who had always trusted and followed him.

Most of them were overwheld with shock, but so even shed tears, as if they couldn’t believe it.

“Lord Ron... actually lost...?”

“No, my lord! How could this happen...”

“This makes no sense! How could Lord Ron possibly lose? Sothing must’ve been rigged. There’s no way this is real!”

Taking in all their faces, Ron Winterbell gave a bitter smile.

These were the ones who had supported him so fervently, despite his shortcomings.

And yet, he couldn’t return their loyalty and trust. Instead, he had given them only disappointnt and sorrow—that was what stung the most.

‘Pathetic.’

Step. Step.

Ran Winterbell’s figure ca into view, slowly approaching from afar.

Ron had thought that Ran had deflected all of his attacks, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

His shoulder was deeply torn, the flesh dangling loosely.

‘If I’d held on just a bit longer without losing consciousness… could I have won…?’

Maybe. It was possible.

But Ron Winterbell, who had already instinctively accepted his defeat, couldn’t see himself winning even if they fought again.

He only realized it after seeing Ran Winterbell’s eyes.

He was the one who lacked desperation.

He was the one who hadn’t bet everything.

Anyone who could look into those eyes and not realize that had to be no different from the blind.

“…Yeah. Looks like a real miracle happened. I don’t know what you did, but one thing’s clear—you’re not who you used to be. I… Ron Winterbell, have lost.”

Ron closed his eyes.

They were brothers by blood, yes, but there had never been any real affection. Unlike the others, they didn’t even share the sa mother.

He vaguely rembered a ti, long ago, when Ran had clung to him, calling him “Brother, brother.” But that hadn’t lasted.

He had felt more like a stranger than kin—and more than that, he belonged to the kind of person Ron despised the most.

Cowardly, spineless, soone who gave up without even trying.

Maybe he’d been born with talent, but he lacked even the most basic qualities of a challenger.

Becoming a strong knight worthy of ruling the North—that was the duty of all Winterbell offspring. But Ran couldn’t endure the trials given to him. He gave up, accepted defeat. A disgrace.

Anyone who abandoned their duty no longer deserved to be called human.

That was Ron Winterbell’s belief.

He knew that what happened to Ran hadn’t been so re misfortune, and that soone among the siblings had done it to him on purpose.

And he knew that the thod had been utterly vile.

But what infuriated him even more than that was Ran’s attitude—how he locked himself away in the annex, not even attempting to overco the catastrophe that had befallen him.

No matter what horrors one endured, as long as they bore the na Winterbell, they had no right to crumble.

No—at the very least, they should strive to make it appear that they hadn’t.

But not him.

That thing had rely existed, breathing from day to day—an empty shell of a human.

He was no longer a knight, and no longer of Winterbell blood.

That was the kind of revulsion he felt.

If Ran had truly done his best to overco what had happened to him as a Winterbell…

Maybe Ron would have helped him.

‘Well, no use thinking about that now.’

In the end, he had risen by himself.

“…Now you finally look like a real person.”

---

As I picked up the sword lying on the ground, Behemoth’s voice echoed in my mind.

【You don’t look well at all—are you sure you’re okay? You can’t die like this! You have to free from this damned sword, don’t you?!】

Okay?

My shoulder is hanging on by a thread—does this look okay to you?

【Exactly. That’s why I told you to borrow my power. Why did you push yourself so far? If you’d let help from the start, this would’ve ended without such an injury.】

Yeah, probably.

But that’s not the way I wanted to do it.

【You’re just as stubborn as the other one.】

Since I couldn’t perform the technique as flawlessly as Ivaki, I had no choice but to endure a certain degree of damage.

And this was the result.

A wound so deep that the bone and muscle were fully exposed.

The injury had co from failing to completely deflect Ron Winterbell’s final strike.

Had it gone just a little deeper, my shoulder would’ve been severed right off.

Form One – Vortex was a martial art that reversed and returned the opponent’s force against them. At Ivaki’s level, no matter how powerful the enemy’s attack, he could absorb and counter it without taking any damage—sotis even reflecting it back several tis stronger.

But I wasn’t at that level.

At most, I could mimic what I’d seen of his martial arts. So the fact that it ended like this was sothing I should be satisfied with.

‘Yeah. For sothing I haven’t used in a while, that was a decent performance.’

That bastard looked completely stunned.

Was it really that shocking?

Dragging my heavy body forward, I approached Ron Winterbell, who was slumped against the wall.

“Now you finally look like a real person.”

“Did hitting that wall ss up your head?”

“I an you finally look human—unlike the worm you used to be.”

“……”

“As promised, I’ll grant you whatever you wish. If it’s my life you want, I’ll give it to you here and now.”

Ron Winterbell closed his eyes as if he had given up.

In the distance, the screams of Ron’s followers rang out.

“My lord!!!”

“No, please!! Stop!!”

“Lord Ran!! Please show rcy!!”

I had thought he was just a wild beast, but I could feel how much his attendants truly cared for him.

What in the hell did they see in this lunatic?

‘He was insanely tough. To think he’d stab himself just to hold in place. For soone his age, that level of talent and fighting spirit is rare. With the right teacher, he’d definitely beco an outstanding swordsman.’

I slowly studied Ron Winterbell’s face.

Had he truly resigned himself to death?

The slight trembling of his shoulders revealed his fear of it.

He could have resisted, could have called out to his knights by now.

But the way he so easily accepted death left feeling oddly deflated.

‘What a strange guy.’

I raised my sword into the air.

And then, I released a dense killing intent.

“No, stop!!!”

“Mylorrrrrd!!”

──Shhk.

Ron Winterbell’s body collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.