The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld - Chapter 51
Chapter 51: A Genius’s Debutante?
“Huff, huff!”
Keseg gasped as if he was about to collapse at any moment.
“This… huff! This must be some kind of mistake. Huff! This doesn’t make sense…”
He looked absolutely miserable. His sweat-drenched bangs stuck to his forehead, making him look quite pitiful.
On the other hand, I stood there with a perfectly composed and pristine appearance.
‘If I exclude mana from the equation, Keseg’s swordsmanship isn’t all that impressive.’
It was clear he had either neglected his training or lacked natural talent. If this were a real battle, he would have been cut down by my blade long ago.
But instead, I deliberately drew the fight out, carefully striking non-lethal areas with just enough force to keep him from being incapacitated.
‘Not yet.’
I had no intention of letting him go until I’d completely drained him of everything he had.
‘Almost there.’
Surely he had a secret technique or a trump card—something he’d pull out at the last moment.
“I… huff! I haven’t lost yet!”
But Keseg seemed to believe that the fight wasn’t over purely because of his own determination.
‘What a pitiful fool.’
Pathetic. He couldn’t even realize that I was holding back on purpose.
“Keseg, what are you thinking right now?”
“…”
He glared at me with distrust before finally asked.
“Young Master, were you hiding your true strength?”
“You’re still spouting nonsense.”
Even in this situation, he was searching for excuses. Truly pathetic.
“What you’re implying is that you’re too incompetent to even grasp the extent of your opponent’s abilities, isn’t it?”
“!”
Keseg clamped his mouth shut. Of course, he couldn’t respond. No matter what he said, it wouldn’t change the fact that he was wrong.
“So, what will it be, Keseg? Will you surrender honorably now, or will you keep thrashing around to the bitter end?”
“I’d rather die than surrender.”
“A bold answer.”
Even in this sorry state, he still wanted to act cool. If vanity were a disease, his case would be terminal.
‘If this were an actual fight, he wouldn’t even dare to say such things.’
How many life-or-death situations could a noble Royal Guard stationed deep in the peaceful heart of the duchy have possibly experienced?
As much as I wanted to give him a true taste of mortal fear…
‘Hold it together.’
Cruelty was not a virtue I needed right now. Instead, I chose to show Keseg mercy.
“Show me your best technique, just this once.”
“!”
Keseg was left with only one choice anyway.
‘Somehow, he’ll try to turn the tide with a desperate, one-hit-kill move.’
“Are you serious?”
It was such a tempting offer that he looked at me with sheer disbelief.
“I couldn’t be more serious.”
“But why…?”
Why? Because I intended to extract every last drop of value from him. Suppressing my true intentions, I motioned with a flick of my finger.
“Come at me.”
“Don’t regret this.”
‘This madman, bluffing to the end.’
However, I’m not foolish enough to willingly take a hit when I know my opponent is preparing a powerful attack.
“Young Master, it’s dangerous!”
As Keseg readied his final move, shouts erupted from all around.
“Dodge it!”
“Young Master, make sure you win!”
It felt as if everyone had suddenly joined my side.
“So, this is what it’s like to debut as a genius?”
I thought I could have made a decent career even as a gladiator in another life.
“Hyahhhh!”
With a fierce cry, Keseg charged at me, raising the tip of his wooden sword high.
A downward slash? No, it was a feint.
He swung diagonally as though he was about to strike, then twisted his ankle and shoulder in a bizarre motion to redirect the trajectory toward my midsection.
“If he had mana, this might have been a fairly effective technique.”
But in his current state, it was nothing more than a futile tantrum.
I effortlessly sidestepped his desperate attack and struck his wrist.
Crack!
The sickening sound of breaking bone echoed as Keseg dropped his wooden sword.
“That’s enough! The match is over!”
Olivier raised my hand high and announced.
“The victory goes to Young Master Allenvert!”
“Waaaaahhh!”
Thunderous cheers and applause erupted. I raised my hand to acknowledge the crowd and pointed toward Jeffrey.
“Jeffrey! Congratulations! How much did you make?”
Jeffrey yelled back, barely containing his excitement.
“100 gold coins! Fuck yeah!”
His words sparked even louder cheers.
“Oh my god! 100 gold coins!”
“Lucky you!”
“Party, boss, Party!”
“Shut it. This money’s mine.”
“Bwahahaha!”
The grand arena had turned into a full-blown festival.
“…This is a nightmare.”
Well, except for one person, who muttered blankly to himself with a vacant expression.
***
Meanwhile, as the outside world bustled with celebration, a massacre was unfolding in the underground prison of the Royal Guard.
“G-gahh…”
“Rrrrk… grk…”
“P-please… spare me…”
A man with a tied-back ponytail, his face blackened with death, stretched out a trembling hand.
“How pitiful. To cling so desperately to life.”
The figure in black stared down at the pitiful hand and casually stretched his palm toward the air.
Whoooosh!
A swirling wind gathered, carrying a colorless and odorless poison that coalesced into his hand.
Thud!
The lifeless body collapsed to the ground, and the man in black turned away.
“Now, rest forever.”
His body vanished into the shadows, leaving no one behind in the dungeon.
***
The sky had begun to take on the hues of dusk, the golden light of the setting sun signaling the gradual winding down of the bustling port city.
“Huff, huff, huff!”
Beneath the crimson glow, a man was running laps around the training ground.
That man was Keseg. As punishment for his humiliating defeat at the hands of Allenvert, he was now running with his full gear strapped to his body.
“Shame on you, you pathetic fool.”
“You’ve dragged the name of the Royal Guard through the mud. How are you planning to fix this?”
The senior Royal Guards berated him mercilessly, their words striking him harder than the physical exhaustion. Keseg’s face looked utterly drained of life.
“I… I’m sorry…”
“If you’re sorry, shut your mouth and run faster, you idiot!”
“Oh, you’ve got enough breath to talk, huh? Want me to strap a helmet on you while we’re at it?”
“N-no, sir!”
“You’re slowing down, I see. Do you still have feet, or should I cut them off to make you lighter?”
“N-no, sir!”
Watching the disgraced Keseg struggle, the other guards whispered among themselves.
“Sure, the young master is extraordinary, but this idiot really made a fool of himself.”
“Tell me about it.”
Though they had been in awe of Allenvert’s brilliance during the match, the more they reflected on Keseg’s antics, the more embarrassed they felt.
“He could’ve just kept it quiet and had a simple sparring session. Why go out of his way to make such a spectacle?”
“Isn’t it obvious? That idiot wanted to catch the attention of other young masters and look important.”
“True skill gets recognized naturally through achievements and effort. His way of thinking is truly pathetic.”
“It’s hard to believe someone like him is in the Royal Guard. Maybe it’s time for his retirement…”
Among the murmuring guards, Jeffrey stood with arms crossed, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he watched Keseg.
“They say he practiced cool lines in front of a mirror. How ridiculous. With a mindset like that, how can he call himself a Royal Guard?”
“These days, instead of polishing their swords, they’re busy starching their uniforms. They’ve grown soft in these peaceful times.”
“That’s why soldiers need to see real combat regularly. What’s the point of recruiting skilled men if they end up preening themselves or trying to charm noblewomen?”
“They should just join the Knighthood if they’re so desperate for that. Let them kiss noblewomen’s hands all they want.”
Thanks to this one humiliating incident, Keseg’s already poor reputation plummeted even further.
“Well, even so…”
Jeffrey remarked.
“Going up against the young master wouldn’t have been easy for me either. His talent… one moment of hesitation, and he’d devour you whole.”
“Even for you, Captain?”
Someone asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
Allenvert was a natural-born warrior and swordsman. His sense of distance, timing, footwork, feints, understanding of his body, and even his flexibility and strength were extraordinary.
“If I were his opponent…”
Jeffrey pressed a thumb to his chin in thought.
“I would’ve gone all in from the first move, with no regard for pride or elegance.”
“The longer the fight dragged on, the more dangerous it would’ve been. If I wasn’t careful, I’d have been humiliated, too.”
The others couldn’t help but accept his words. After all, no one present surpassed Jeffrey in skill or experience.
“How strong do you think the young master will become someday?”
“Who knows?” Jeffrey replied.
“At the very least, he’ll reach the 6th-tier. Maybe even the 7th. If everything goes right, perhaps the 8th.”
“8th-tier? Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”
“Why not?”
“Well… he started too late, didn’t he? And to reach that level requires not just talent and effort but the right environment. Even then, it takes decades of relentless dedication. Only a rare handful ever achieve it…”
The guard trailed off, unable to voice the unspoken thought. That someone with limited time, like Allenvert, might not have enough years to reach such a height.
‘Is that really true?’
Jeffrey’s perspective was a little different.
‘Sometimes, you can just tell. Who will climb higher, who will go further—it’s all in the measure of their potential.’
If that potential was the measure of a person’s true capacity, Jeffrey realized he hadn’t even begun to grasp the depth of Allenvert’s.
I’ve made up my mind. I need to speak with the Head Butler.’
Jeffrey was already captivated by Allenvert’s potential. The boundless, unrefined gem of martial talent he embodied made Jeffrey eager to see just how far it could be polished and where it might lead.
“Th-this is terrible news!”
At that moment, a pale-faced Royal Guard came running from afar.
“What’s the matter?”
“The prisoners in the underground prison… they’re all dead! Assassinated!”
“What did you say?”
The air turned icy, tension thickening as the weight of the words sank in.
***
At the same time.
While Jeffrey was preoccupied with the shocking assassination incident, scrambling to address the situation, someone else had already approached the Head Butler ahead of him.
“Are you really going to let this stand?”
Aiden was struggling to fend off the fiery gaze of Ulbhild. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he faced her wrath.
“Lady Ulbhild, please, calm yourself.”
“Do I look like I can calm down right now?”
This was the second time they’d had this argument.
“Why is Allen not receiving training in swordsmanship? At the very least, he should be allowed to read a manual on sword techniques! Or be assigned an instructor! Why are you letting his talent go to waste?”
“Lady Ulbhild, as I’ve said, His Highness surely has his reasons for this decision.”
“And I’m asking what those reasons are!”
Ulbhild slammed her hands on the desk.
“Head Butler, aren’t you on the same page as me?”
“…”
“If you won’t do it, I’ll teach Allen myself.”
Her voice lowered, but her words struck with even greater weight as she finally laid bare her intentions.
“Surely, Father wouldn’t forbid even that, would he? Allen is neither an illegitimate child nor a bastard, so why is he being treated so unfairly?”
‘This won’t do.‘
Aiden thought, realizing he would need to exercise some discretion to pacify her.
‘But why is she so adamant about this?’
Had Ulbhild always held Allenvert in such high regard? Aiden couldn’t recall such favoritism from her before.
‘There must be an ulterior motive.’
What that motive was would require further observation, but for now, it was critical to de-escalate the situation.
“Lady Ulbhild.”
“Yes?”
“The truth is…”
Aiden leaned in and revealed the identity of the swordsmanship instructor that Duke was considering.
“… Is that true?”
Shock flashed across Ulbhild’s wide eyes.
———–