Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes Chapter 23 : The Lion in the Cage

The duel was held in the Emperor’s private coliseum. No roaring crowds, no sea of nobles jeering for blood.

Only a handful of witnesses stood in the high balconies: the Emperor himself, a few trusted ministers, and the challenger's retinue.

The rest of the nobles fud outside the gates, denied their spectacle.

On the arena floor, Father stood tall. His black coat fluttered in the wind, his sword gleaming despite the tremor in his grip. Across from him, Lord Revingale smirked, his younger fra practically humming with arrogance.

“Darius Valemont,” the noble sneered. “The Sword of the Empire, reduced to this. I’ll end your legend today.”

Father said nothing. He only tightened his grip on his blade.

From above, the Emperor raised his hand. His expression was grave, his voice heavy. “This is no sport. This is a matter of honor. The duel will be witnessed, judged, and rembered. But it will not be made a circus.”

The challenger grit his teeth, but bowed. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor’s gaze lingered on Father. For a mont, I swore I saw sothing flicker there—sorrow, maybe even guilt.

Then his hand dropped. “Begin.”

The clash ca like thunder.

Revingale lunged first, his strikes sharp and fueled by youth. Father t him head-on, his sword ringing with power. The force of his counters sent cracks splintering across the stone floor.

For a mont, it seed the Lion still roared. Each blow carried the weight of a hundred battles. The air shook with every swing.

But my HUD whispered the truth:

[Vitality rapidly decreasing.]

[Condition: Curse – Reactivating.]

Father’s steps grew heavier, his swings slower. Revingale’s smirk widened.

“You can’t keep up, old man!”

The younger noble pressed harder, blades flashing like lightning. Father parried, but his knees buckled under the strain. Blood welled at the corner of his lips.

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Selene gripped the railing above, her knuckles white, her face pale. I clung to her dress, trembling.

Elara’s nails dug into her palms, tears burning in her eyes. “Father…”

The Emperor’s voice cut through the tension, calm but firm. “Darius Valemont. Rember—you do not fight for them. You fight for yourself.”

Father’s breath rattled, but his eyes hardened. With a roar, he surged forward, his blade cleaving the air in a brilliant arc. For a heartbeat, the Lion was alive again—terrifying, unstoppable.

Steel crashed. Sparks flew.

Revingale staggered, eyes wide as his guard cracked under the weight of the strike.

But the curse struck back.

Father’s chest seized, his body faltered mid-swing. The follow-up never ca.

The HUD scread:

[Critical Warning – Collapse imminent.]

Revingale’s blade shot forward.

And in that frozen mont, I understood—I might be about to watch the Lion of Valemont fall.

Steel rang against steel, the sound echoing in the Emperor’s private coliseum.

Father still stood tall, his blade cutting arcs through the air that made even Revingale hesitate.

Every swing carried decades of battle-hardened instinct, each strike pushing the younger noble back, step by step.

The witnesses whispered among themselves.

“The Lion still has his claws…”

“Could he actually win…?”

Even Revingale’s smug grin faltered as Father’s blade nicked his shoulder, drawing blood.

“Impossible,” he hissed. “You’re supposed to be finished!”

Father only growled, eyes burning. “A lion doesn’t yield.”

Then it happened.

As their blades locked, Revingale’s free hand twitched. Mana pulsed faintly along his palm—subtle, masked beneath the clash.

The HUD scread in my vision:

[External interference detected.]

[Curse – Reactivating at accelerated rate.]

Father staggered, his body jerking as if unseen chains pulled at his chest. His sword wavered for the first ti.

Selene’s eyes narrowed. She slamd her hand against the railing, mana flaring around her like a storm. “You snake—!”

But Revingale sneered up at her, voice dripping with mockery. “What’s the matter, Lady Selene? Can the Lion not handle a few whispers of magic? Or is his legend truly that fragile?”

The Emperor’s eyes flicked toward Revingale, his brow furrowing—but he didn’t speak.

Father gasped, the curse burning through him like fire in his veins. His arms trembled, sweat poured, but still he raised his blade.

Strike after strike, weaker, slower, until his guard broke.

Revingale’s sword smashed past his defense, striking deep against his side. Blood sprayed, staining the arena floor.

“Father!” Elara’s cry cracked through the chamber.

I clung to Selene’s skirts, my heart pounding, the HUD flashing rcilessly:

[Darius Valemont – Vitality Critical.]

[Combat Capability: Lost.]

Father fell to one knee, his sword digging into the ground to hold him up. His breath rattled, his vision blurred—but his eyes never left his opponent.

Revingale raised his blade high, victorious. “The era of the Lion ends here!”

And though Father’s strength was gone, his voice still carried like thunder:

“…A lion… doesn’t… bow.”

Then his sword slipped from his hand, clattering against the stone.

The duel was over.

The Lion of Valemont had fallen.