The Forgotten Field - Chapter 84

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 84
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“Get up this instant!”
Lucas, his face buried in his pillow, jerked his head up at the sharp cry that jolted him from sleep.
As he rubbed his bleary eyes and turned around, he spotted his troublesome sister standing rigidly beside his bed.
He wrapped his throbbing temples in his hands and let out an irritated groan.
“Please! How many times do I have to tell you not to barge into my bedroom uninvited?”
“This is no time for propriety! Get up now! It’s an emergency!”
Raina shook his shoulders mercilessly, shrieking at him. Lucas pushed her away and pressed his temples firmly, trying to ease the sharp pain.
He had spent the entire day hunting with fellow riders from Wolfram, then stopped at a tavern to drink ale until he could barely stand.
His head was already pounding unbearably, so why was she making such a commotion?
He glared at his sister through half-open eyes.
“What on earth is wrong? Did the Zrami invade Laedgo Castle or something?”
“Stop talking nonsense and get up right now!”
Raina grabbed his arm roughly and stamped her feet.
“This is serious! The ‘Black Bear of the South’ is going to duel with our brother!”
Lucas felt sleep vanish instantly as he bolted upright, his eyes wide with bewilderment as he stared at his sister.
“Who’s fighting whom?”
“Ugh, seriously!”
Raina’s patience, already thin, snapped completely. She released his arm and strode purposefully toward the door.
Lucas, staring blankly after her, scrambled out of bed and grabbed his tunic from the chair, throwing it haphazardly over his bare chest before hurrying after her into the corridor.
Servants were rushing past, lanterns in hand, flooding through the hallway.
Bewildered, Lucas looked around before catching up to his sister, who was already descending the stairs with long strides.
“Is our brother really going to duel?”
“That’s what I’m telling you!”
Raina bounded down the stairs two at a time, answering irritably. Lucas furrowed his brow. He knew that guests had arrived at Laedgo Castle.
However, he had no idea how the heir of House Sierkan had ended up challenging the lord representing the Southeastern Region to a duel.
He pressed his aching head and asked his question.
“Why are they dueling in the middle of the night all of a sudden?”
“Why else? That incarnation of discord finally caused trouble!”
Raina ground her teeth.
“That woman burst into the Banquet Hall, poured a drink on Lord Gutban, and even slapped him!”
Lucas’s mouth fell open.
“That woman… you don’t mean the Second Princess, do you?”
“Who else could it be!”
Raina struck her chest in exasperation.
“Because of that woman, an argument broke out between the ‘Black Bear’ and our brother, and now they’re dueling!”
Raina crossed the Hall in one breath and burst outside, speaking loudly and indignantly.
“See? I told you that woman would be a disaster! I was right all along!”
Lucas fastened the front of his open tunic and rolled his eyes.
To be precise, what my younger sister had predicted was a cunning villainess who played the weakling before her brother while scheming behind closed doors—not a deranged woman who would strike down the Eastern Territories’ mightiest spear knight in front of everyone.
‘Regardless, there’s no denying that she’s become a problem.’
He swept back his disheveled hair and quickly crossed the expansive Inner Courtyard.
The staircase leading to the Training Grounds was already crowded with hundreds of people, each holding torches and lamps.
Lucas pushed through the throng and made his way into the vast training grounds, where nobility gathered to witness the duel alongside Wolfram’s elite Knights. Spotting a familiar face among them, he immediately changed course.
“Tyron!”
The spear knight turned toward him, pausing mid-conversation with his subordinates. He too appeared to have rushed out from rest, wearing nothing but a loose coat over his bare chest. The man glanced between Lucas and Raina in turn, then exhaled a deep sigh.
“How can you wander about at this hour without an escort?”
“Skip the lectures. What in the world is happening here?”
“I’ve only just arrived myself, so I don’t have the full details.”
Tyron shrugged dismissively.
“One thing is certain, though—our future leader possesses a far more aggressive temperament than appearances would suggest.”
He gestured with his chin toward one side of the expansive mounted training grounds.
There stood Barcas, heavily armored in blackened steel, beside a muscular gray stallion.
Lucas swept his gaze over him with vacant eyes. Among the scattered, bulky forms of other men, Barcas appeared like a finely sculpted, delicate statue.
His lean frame, encased in armor, was neither small nor diminutive, yet unlike other spear and sword fighters, it was neither imposing nor massive. The way he tightened the armor’s seams with each movement seemed more like a dancer than a warrior.
His opponent, by contrast, was little more than a beast wearing human skin.
Lucas shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the grounds and swallowed hard. The man’s height appeared to reach nearly seven krevets—roughly two hundred ten centimeters—and his weight seemed to exceed five lants by a considerable margin, approaching six lants or about two hundred ten kilograms. Adding the weight of the steel armor encasing his body would likely push him even further.
The man led a massive, muscular horse befitting his frame toward the center of the training grounds.
The blazing light of the torches laid bare the man’s terrifying presence in full. Those who witnessed it erupted in waves of admiration, excitement, and awe.
Lucas let out a quiet groan.
“This is madness.”
Shortly after, four soldiers who appeared to be the man’s subordinates struggled to carry an enormous halberd, nearly the size of a lump of iron.
As the man grasped the shaft with one hand and raised the massive axe blade high, the roar of the crowd intensified.
Raina, her face pale as she watched the spectacle, seized Tyron by the collar.
“Why aren’t you stopping this immediately!”
“That person has been trying earnestly to stop him since earlier, but he refuses to listen.”
Tyron sighed, pointing with his thumb toward a small figure standing beside Barcas.
Following his gesture, Lucas spotted a diminutive figure clamoring loudly at his brother and widened his eyes. The woman was furiously waving her fists about.
Unable to resist his curiosity, Lucas approached them and frowned upon hearing a sharp, high-pitched voice ringing out. The woman was shouting fearlessly at a man who towered a full head above her.
“Are you an idiot? A fool? You can just crush a brute like that with authority! Why are you stupidly trying to settle this with brute strength!”
Lucas let out a hollow laugh. He never knew there existed a woman who would spout such crude insults besides Raina. And to her own brother no less….
Lucas glanced at Barcas’s expression. He remained composed, checking his horse’s condition.
The woman struck his back with her fist.
“Did you sleep through math class? That man looks three times heavier than you! Don’t you know that weight and strength are proportional?”
“Bring me my helm.”
Barcas issued the command to his attendant, ignoring her presence entirely. The woman, incensed, rolled up her sleeves as if to slap him across the face, prompting Darian to urgently grab her shoulder.
“Your Highness, there’s no need to worry so. This is a common occurrence among warriors. Neither will cross the line….”
“Who said I was worried about that brute!”
She roughly shook off the man’s hand and shouted sharply.
“I’m worried about myself! If I become a widow the moment we marry, my future will be in jeopardy!”
Darian stepped back, seeming exhausted by Aria’s caustic remarks. Yet his elder brother showed no particular reaction to her venom.
He pressed a helmet onto his head and swung himself up onto the saddle in one fluid motion.
“Hand me my weapon.”
A servant immediately thrust forward a halberd topped with a crescent-shaped silver blade. Before Barcas could even protest, he urged his horse forward into the center of the Training Grounds.
Aria rushed after him in desperation. Lucas, who had been watching from a distance, found himself running forward without thinking and seized her arm. A cold gaze pierced through him like a dagger.
Lucas held his breath. For a moment, his mind went completely blank.
As he gazed down at that strangely beautiful face with vacant eyes, a thunderous trumpet blast announced the beginning of the duel.
Lucas’s head snapped up, and he let out a groan as he watched Alec Gutvan slowly circle the spectator stands, spinning the enormous halberd with a single hand.
As the axe blade—nearly as massive as a war hammer—carved a great arc through the air, a sound like the crack of a whip echoed across the grounds.
He felt Aria trembling as though she might collapse at any moment. Yet he had no capacity to attend to her condition.
The beast, displaying his overwhelming strength as he slowly rode along the spectator stands, suddenly spurred his horse forward.
The heavy hoofbeats shook the earth itself. Through a cloud of dust, the giant astride the massive steed charged toward Barcas with terrifying speed, his halberd spinning. Screams erupted from the crowd.
With good reason. It was like an enraged buffalo charging a deer. Lucas clenched his fists. The colossus, forged as if from iron itself, seemed about to crush his brother in an instant.
Yet what Lucas witnessed was a sight his eyes could scarcely believe. The axe blade—nearly the size of a man’s body—was deflected with an elegant grace, as if by a bird’s wing, by Barcas’s lance.
Lucas’s eyes widened.
The miraculous display did not end there. As Barcas spurred his horse, the massive man’s body tilted backward as though he had collided with an immovable castle wall.
Barcas did not squander the opening.
He kicked the stallion’s flank and thrust his lance forward. The sharp point, flashing like lightning, pierced through the thick breastplate and drove straight through the man’s chest.
All of it happened in the blink of an eye.
With the lance still embedded in the man’s thorax, Barcas spurred his horse onward. As he wrenched the lance upward, the giant’s massive body soared high into the air. At this grotesque spectacle, screams erupted from every corner.
Riding across the wide open ground, Barcas made a great circle with the lance shaft before driving the halberd down into the earth. The giant’s enormous body crashed into the dirt with a heavy, reverberating thud that echoed in all directions.
A suffocating silence fell over the grounds.
While everyone stood stunned by the duel’s sudden conclusion, Barcas rode up beside the mangled corpse, tore off his helmet, and hurled it to the ground. Then, with an expression of absolute composure, he issued orders toward the stands.
“Summon the High Priest to conduct the funeral rites.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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