I’m a Rebel in Another World

Chapter 55: Knight Duel

Bloodhorn racked his brains but couldn't figure out how to resolve this situation.

Henwil quickly realized Bloodhorn's predicament, but he no longer had the mind to consider others' problems.

With substantial rewards offered, brave souls would inevitably emerge.

The contestants stepping into the arena were already formidable youths, and now he needed to focus on how to handle his own challenges.

Soon, several young fighters entered the arena.

Two were youths trained by the gladiatorial arena itself, while two others came from noble families in the south.

The final contestant emerged from an inconspicuous section of the audience stands.

But Henwil keenly noticed that after this contestant stood up, several major noble factions immediately halted their own youths who were preparing to enter the competition.

The matches proceeded in one-on-one duel format.

But Henwil keenly noticed that after this contestant stood up, several major noble factions immediately halted their own youths who were preparing to enter the competition."I want to know—if you emerge victorious, what will you choose? Stay? Or leave?

If you stay, I can grant you greater freedom, even permission to go out into the city streets.

Future gladiatorial prize money will be split fifty-fifty, all your expenses here will be covered, and each month I'll provide you with two free Knight's Body Tempering Potions.

You'll have final approval over your opponents for each match, with the right to request changes.

You only need to compete once every month... no! Once every two months! And I will protect you from external threats.

I know you come from noble origins and long to return to that world, but you must understand one thing—if you go back, you won't be returning as nobility.

You'll become a noble's dog, though perhaps you might have a chance to become nobility again someday.

But believe me, being a noble's dog isn't as safe as you might imagine!"

Of course I know it's not safe!

Not only do I know—I've personally experienced that danger!

Henwil thought to himself, then said to Bloodhorn: "Sir, I'm grateful for your shelter, but it's still too early to discuss this.

My opponents have clearly come prepared, and victory won't be easily obtained. Only after I return alive will I be qualified to give you an answer!"

Bloodhorn paused for a moment, then nodded gently.

As he turned to leave, he didn't forget to look back and tell Henwil: "Qin, you know I've always had high hopes for you. Come back alive!"

Henwil nodded slightly: "I'll do my best!"

Truth be told, Henwil hadn't truly made up his mind about what choice to make.

This presented an excellent opportunity, one that could likely free him from this terrible place.

To escape the endless killing and begin a new chapter of life.

But Henwil understood clearly that mixing with nobles wouldn't be safe either.

Finally, Henwil pushed these conflicting thoughts from his mind. Just as he had said earlier, he needed to focus on winning this gladiatorial match first.

Henwil was the first to enter the arena. Bloodhorn had arranged for his strongest youth gladiator to start, aiming for an opening victory that would intimidate subsequent challengers.

Additionally, Henwil's fighting style—swift and lethal—made him ideal for this role.

His rational application of tactics and techniques always gave the impression that he completely overwhelmed his opponents.

But this time, Bloodhorn had clearly miscalculated.

The opposition had also sent their strongest challenger.

When Henwil saw the challenger wearing full knight's armor across the arena, he sighed inwardly—exactly as he had anticipated.

This was the final confirmed challenger, a youth around sixteen years old with a stature that wasn't particularly tall, standing under six feet.

He didn't appear especially robust either, with a medium build.

From the way he walked and moved, and especially from his calm eyes, Henwil sensed something familiar.

This was a child from a proper knightly family, or at least someone who had received knightly training since childhood.

Upon reaching adulthood, he would become one of those familiar figures Henwil had fought alongside—the knights.

When the opponent saw Henwil similarly clad in knight's armor, he visibly hesitated.

Since his debut, Henwil had always worn plain white cloth garments, occasionally adding simple leather armor at most.

This marked the first time he had appeared before the audience in full armor.

When Henwil selected his weapons and equipment, even Bloodhorn had been somewhat surprised.

But then he considered that Henwil and the others might come from noble families and naturally possess some knightly combat skills, which put his mind at ease.

The opponent wielded a heavy knight's sword, while Henwil carried a hand-and-a-half sword.

Henwil raised his longsword, pointing the tip upward, then lightly tapped the flat of the blade against his left shoulder to indicate he was ready.

This was a knightly duel courtesy, which his opponent returned with the same blade-to-shoulder gesture.

The audience in the gladiatorial arena seemed momentarily confused but instinctively lowered their voices.

They noticed that the nobles who had previously been behaving wildly were now straightening their clothing, sitting properly, and watching the match with serious attention.

They were nobles, born superior to others.

To protect their honor, they would willingly sacrifice their lives.

Therefore, for the knightly duel unfolding below, they needed to maintain proper decorum.

Certainly many nobles inwardly dismissed the formality, but they couldn't show it outwardly.

Next, Henwil and the young knight began circling each other, testing each other's footwork.

They executed thrusts and cuts with their longswords, gauging each other's strength and swordsmanship level.

This represented the most orthodox knightly duel format, where both parties would carefully probe for at least one full exchange.

After completing their initial assessment, the two stopped several meters apart.

Both sensed they faced a formidable opponent. The young knight now understood that Henwil wasn't merely wearing armor for show—he genuinely knew knightly combat.

Whether in footwork or swordsmanship, Henwil's demonstrated skill definitely wasn't some wild, untrained style but rather proper instruction from orthodox knightly tradition.

Henwil also felt troubled, having gauged his opponent's capability.

Now he needed to figure out how to defeat his opponent without revealing too much. Both Fabio and Kavizé's sword techniques could overcome this adversary.

But those sword styles carried very distinctive characteristics that could easily be recognized by knowledgeable observers.

Yet using basic knightly swordsmanship clearly wouldn't be enough to defeat his opponent.

Even combined with the killing techniques learned on the battlefield, he couldn't end the fight quickly.

Neither side waited any longer, almost simultaneously moving to charge at each other.

Henwil prepared to test his opponent's speed and endurance, adopting a two-handed grip and taking the initiative to attack.

The longsword in Henwil's hands executed chops, cuts, thrusts, and slices in continuous offensive movements.

Meanwhile, he advanced with controlled footwork, constantly maintaining distance within the optimal range for his hand-and-a-half sword.

His opponent used a two-handed greatsword that extended half a foot longer than Henwil's weapon.

Life and death hung within that half-foot margin—if he allowed his opponent to create that half-foot distance, he would face relentless counterattacks.

The young knight clearly recognized this too, blocking Henwil's attacks while striving to create distance whenever possible.

From the VIP viewing platform, Duke Lemer laughed: "At first I thought this was just children fooling around, but these two youngsters actually have some skill!"

Someone nearby asked: "Who does the Duke think will win?"

Duke Lemer countered: "What do you think?"

"The challenger uses the Rudoen family's Surging Wave sword style—certainly he holds the advantage."

"Hahaha... Obiken! You're decent at leading troops, but fighting isn't your strong suit!"

Duke Lemer said thoughtfully: "That little gladiator may use basic knightly sword forms, but his foundation is solid.

What's more, he's incorporated battlefield techniques—real killing skills. So I say the Rudoen boy is about to die!"