Theor had never thought favorably of Aidan and Taishy, even before all this.
How could he? After Tenaron disappeared, he had been the one most likely to be named the next chieftain.
And yet that position had been stolen by Iona.
What made it worse was that the ones who had openly supported Iona, enabling her to seize the title of Great Chieftain, were those arrogant humans.
Bringing a frail human into the sacred home of the beastkin, the warriors born of nature itself—how dare they.
Theor hated everything about it.
He was a beastkin overflowing with pride—so much so that it spilled into a kind of supremacy, an instinct to look down on every other race.
He hated this entire situation.
The fact that arrogant humans were sticking their filthy mud-covered feet into their territory under the name of “negotiation” and “trade.”
The fact that the close companions of the next Great Chieftain were humans she had met in the outside world.
The fact that Iona intended to marry a human, and that people like Aidan and Taishy held good reputations even among beastkin.
Every single detail irritated Theor to the core.
So whenever he faced humans, he often picked fights.
Because he didn’t like them. Because it infuriated him to see beings weaker than himself holding their heads high and walking with pride.
The weak should bow their heads.
The weak should be ruled.
The weak should kneel before the strong.
That was the world Theor wanted.
That was the natural order a beastkin warrior should live by.
“So if an arrogant creature doesn’t know its place, you step on it until it learns.”
Of course, Aidan and Taishy—setting aside Theor's hatred—were objectively exceptional talents.
Especially Aidan.
Theor loathed him, but he still had to admit: in pure skill, Aidan surpassed even the beastkin warriors.
But admitting that and liking someone were two entirely different matters.
And even if he grudgingly acknowledged Aidan and Taishy, recognizing some random human they brought along was another matter entirely.
Theor saw this as an opportunity.
If they had brought that human all the way here into beastkin territory, he had to be someone important.
Humans have nobles born into privilege, don’t they? If those two brought him along, they must treat him with considerable respect.
Theor didn’t care much about humans, but he had picked up bits and pieces about their social structure.
Among humans, there were the “nobles” born with naturally high status.
And above them, the royal family.
Royalty, he heard, never traveled without a massive entourage.
Since this man clearly wasn’t surrounded by attendants, he couldn’t be royalty.
So—he was a noble.
And judging from Aidan and Taishy’s behavior, a well-respected one.
Theor couldn’t disgrace Aidan and Taishy directly.
But humiliating their guest?
That was perfectly acceptable.
In fact, it was the ideal way to strike at them.
And nobles are supposed to be arrogant, right? Excellent. Truly excellent.
All he had to do was provoke him a little, and look at him now—charging in headfirst, falling right into the trap without realizing it.
“Humans really are hopeless.”
Hiding those thoughts behind a smiling face, Theor said:
“Now then. We’ve gathered enough witnesses. Shall we begin?”
The place where Theor and Ludger now faced each other was the beastkin’s special arena—constructed solely for duels.
And by now, the rumor had spread, drawing a large number of beastkin spectators to fill the seats.
Aidan and Taishy were among them.
“Aah. This brings back memories.”
Aidan recalled his first year at Seorn.
His very first duel—sparked by someone picking a fight—felt like such a distant memory now.
Seeing the crowd brought that moment back to him vividly.
“You’re really thinking such carefree things right now?”
From beside him, Taishy scolded him, exasperated.
“Ludger is getting dragged into trouble because of us! And the opponent is Theor, of all people!”
She knew Theor did not think highly of them.
But they also couldn’t treat him carelessly—he was of the Great Chieftain’s bloodline and a powerful beastkin warrior of high standing.
“Trust Ludger. Did you forget? He’s an incredible mage.”
“That was years ago. We heard he was wounded when the Demon King attacked him. He must’ve focused on recovery all this time—maybe he’s lost some of his edge.”
Taishy’s reasoning sounded plausible.
Ludger had been injured by the Demon King Heathcliff, and stepped down from teaching to recover.
Three years had passed since then.
They never thought they would see him here again.
And yet the moment Taishy saw Ludger, she sensed it—
the teacher she once had to look up to from afar now seemed... closer, almost within reach.
Part of that was her own rapid growth.
But another part was Ludger’s aura seeming much gentler, weakened compared to before.
Taishy was convinced Ludger’s injuries had been severe—and that lingering aftereffects remained even now.
That was why she had tried so hard to stop this duel.
But when Ludger himself agreed to fight, she lost the right to object.
“You should’ve insisted harder!”
“H-He said he wanted to do it.”
“Unbelievable. Seriously, what now? All we can do is hope he wins.”
“Why are you so worried? Believe in him.”
“If he’s still suffering from aftereffects, how can I not worry?”
Aidan nodded calmly, as if everything made sense.
Of course Taishy would think that—she didn’t know the truth behind that past incident.
Aidan let out a small, wry smile.
Ludger only looked weak right now...
because he was deliberately suppressing his power, keeping it tightly restrained.
Compared to three years ago, Ludger had not regressed at all.
If anything, he had advanced further.
Taishy couldn’t know that.
Only Aidan knew the truth.
After all, Aidan had personally watched Ludger fight during the Holy War.
He was the first human to step into the realm known as the 8th Circle—
a place humans were believed incapable of reaching.
Worrying about Ludger was like a firefly worrying for the sun.
“It’s fine. Trust him.”
But Aidan couldn’t exactly tell Taishy the whole truth.
So he could only try to reassure her.
“He’s not nearly as weak as you think.”
“I never said he was weak. I’m saying the opponent is tough, so you never know!”
Taishy admitted she’d been overthinking, but she still couldn’t shake the unease.
Aidan wordlessly took her hand.
Feeling the warmth seep into her skin, Taishy flushed and relaxed slightly.
“It’s starting.”
When Aidan murmured that, Taishy turned her gaze to the arena.
What was done was done.
All she could do now was earnestly wish for Ludger’s victory.
Aidan caught her expression and chuckled softly.
Taishy... we’re not supposed to hope for Ludger to win right now.
Because for Ludger, victory was an easier task than picking up a pebble from the road.
Even if his opponent was the strongest warrior of the beastkin.
What should he be wishing for, then?
Aidan desired only one thing:
Please... let this fight end cleanly, without escalating into a much bigger problem.
At that moment, the great drum announcing the beginning of the fight boomed across the arena.
The beastkin spectators roared.
A few members of other races who had come out of curiosity watched quietly.
Theor raised both arms, basking in the applause.
“Come on, enjoy this. Humans don’t often get to stand in an arena like this.”
“......”
“Hmm? Or did you finally realize? This won’t be a fair fight—it’ll be your one-sided execution.”
Theor only spoke big.
He had no intention of killing Ludger.
But in a fierce duel, losing an arm or a leg—becoming permanently maimed—wasn’t exactly rare, was it?
With that thought, Theor took his stance.
“You’d better show me everything you’ve got, mage.”
“May I give you one piece of advice? Despite appearances, I used to teach magic once.”
“Hah! If you’re trying to talk your way out of this now, spare me.”
“That’s not it. Seeing you just made me think of something you ought to hear.”
“And that is?”
“You talk too much.”
Ludger looked at him with pure disappointment.
The beastkin warriors he knew were not chatterboxes bragging before a fight.
They were quiet.
They proved themselves through action.
They sought no recognition for their achievements.
They simply walked forward to fulfill the next duty laid before them.
Knowing that, Ludger found Theor ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) unbearably shallow.
It made him question whether Theor's combat ability matched even half of his mouth.
Ludger’s simple, sincere remark stabbed right into Theor's reverse scale.
“......I’ll kill you!”
His entire coat of fur bristled.
His eyes twisted into ferocity, sharp fangs bared.
For an instant—
it felt as though an enormous red panther stood before them.
Ludger remained motionless, unfazed.
He looked so calm—so regal—that he almost seemed unconnected to the situation.
How could he not?
The enemies Ludger had fought in his life were so far beyond this that comparing them felt disrespectful.
Theor crouched low.
So low that his body nearly flattened against the ground—and then his figure blurred like an afterimage and vanished.
“Oh?”
Ludger raised an eyebrow slightly.
So he at least had enough skill to match his big words.
Theor appeared behind Ludger and drove a fist toward the back of his head.
Ludger didn’t move.
He didn’t even raise a hand.
THUD!
Theor's punch slammed into a faint bluish barrier around Ludger.
Pain rang through his bones.
His fist could shatter stone—
but it couldn’t even scratch this barrier.
“Then how about this?!”
Theor disappeared again and reappeared above Ludger’s head, spinning downward with a crushing kick.
BOOM!
The barrier formed above Ludger easily absorbed the blow.
Even louder than before—yet still unbroken.
Theor struck again and again, hammering Ludger’s barrier.
But Ludger stood firm, unmoving.
“You turtle-shell bastard!”
Theor snarled, furious that Ludger was only defending.
He spread his hands wide.
His claws lengthened sharply, and a translucent aura rippled over them.
The beastkin’s unique ability—Spirit.
Spirit energy flowed along his claws, extending them nearly fifty centimeters.
They looked like massive spectral blades—enough to slice through anything.
This should tear apart that damned barrier.
Thinking so, Theor charged head-on and slashed.
SCCCHHK!
A clean slicing sound rang out.
Everyone held their breath.
Theor grinned triumphantly.
If he had cut through that “turtle shell,” then Ludger had no remaining protection.
But then—
His smile froze.
The barrier remained perfectly intact.
So what had been cut?
Theor realized, too late,
that his own extended Spirit claws had been severed clean off.
“You really should trim your nails.”
Ludger murmured softly, lifting his staff.
Theor tried to dodge—but his body refused to move.
W-What is this?!
It felt like standing before a mountain.
Crushing pressure pinned him in place.
Ludger gently touched the tip of his staff to Theor's forehead.
“Get some sleep.”
And Theor's body shot backward like a fired cannonball.
