The Second Son of the Marquis Wants to Laze Around-Chapter 43: The d’Armand: Knights (3/4)

"Begin!"

—Bang!

Sever was the first to move, dashing straight toward Bolder with a powerful strike. But instead of countering, Bolder took a defensive stance, calmly blocking the attack.

—Clang!

Sever didn’t let up. He continued attacking with wild, aggressive strikes, using every technique he had learned. Bolder remained composed, defending and dodging each blow with grit and focus, his teeth clenched.

Seeing Bolder on the defensive, Sever taunted him again.

"What’s wrong? Did you go soft?!"

"Planning to stay in defense the whole time?!"

Still, Bolder didn’t respond. He kept a cool head, focusing only on the battle in front of him.

Some of the knights watching were confused by his approach. Whispers filled the air, with some speculating that Bolder had lost his edge after being humiliated by Eren Valmont. Others thought he was just afraid to attack. But Harry, his close friend, knew better. He could tell that Bolder hadn’t fully recovered from the intense training earlier. His body was still fatigued—and that’s exactly why Sever accepted the challenge. He believed Bolder was at a disadvantage.

Bolder was sweating heavily, clearly exhausted. But he wasn’t the only one.

Among the more experienced knights, especially the Elites and even Commander Carlos who was still observing from above, it was clear—Bolder was fighting with cool head, using his brain. He wasn’t just defending; he was conserving energy, waiting for the right moment.

Sever, on the other hand, was like a rabid dog. He screamed and swung wildly, wasting energy with every flashy move. It was only a matter of time before his stamina gave out.

—Clang!

—Clang!

—Clang!

"Come on! Fight back, you coward!" Sever roared in frustration. No matter how many times he attacked, he couldn’t land a clean hit. His opponent was still standing, still calm, and still not taking the bait. It began to unnerve him.

And then—Bolder saw it.

An opening.

Just as Sever raised his sword for a heavy overhead strike, Bolder shifted his stance. Carlos’s eyes narrowed—he recognized that his student’s stands looked different. thinking it was a different technique.

Bolder expertly blocked Sever’s swing, parried it, and countered with a swift strike using the hilt of his sword. The blow landed directly on Sever’s face.

—Bang!

Sever stumbled backward and hit the ground with a thud. Blood dripped from his nose—it was broken. Dizzy from the impact, he struggled to get up, only to find Bolder standing over him, sword pointed at his throat.

"..."

Then, a silence fell over the training ground.

Everyone stood frozen, stunned by the unexpected outcome. Bolder had won—with fewer moves, perfect timing, and tactical brilliance.

The referee stepped forward quickly and declared:

"Winner—Bolder!"

A beat passed. Then the sound of clapping broke the silence.

It was Harry. Soon, more knights joined in, and the field filled with cheers and applause.

"That was amazing!"

"I’ve never seen him fight like that before!"

"Well done, Junior!"

All the knights, from the lower ranks to the elite warriors, erupted in applause for Bolder. Their cheers echoed across the training grounds, filled with admiration and respect. But amidst the celebration, Sever’s expression twisted—from disbelief, to frustration, and then to sheer hatred.

"This doesn’t count! I wasn’t fully ready!" Sever shouted like a sore loser, his pride wounded and his dignity slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t admit his defeat—not in front of the other knights.

Bolder, who was calmly sheathing his sword, turned and stared at him with cold, unfeeling eyes. His tone was flat and composed. "A duel is a duel, no matter the excuse."

"Shut up! There’s no way you could’ve beaten me like that—it was just luck!" Sever shouted again, grasping at whatever dignity he had left. The other knights exchanged glances, some shaking their heads. They had seen this kind of outburst from Sever before. It wasn’t his first time making a scene after losing, and sadly, probably wouldn’t be the last.

Bolder then spoke in a calm yet piercing tone. "Tell me, Sever. In a real battle, do you honestly believe your opponent will wait until you’re ready? Do you think they’ll give you time to prepare?"

Sever opened his mouth, about to snap back, but Bolder cut him off before he could utter a word.

"If we were enemies on the battlefield, and I had the chance, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut off your head."

Those chilling words struck deep. Sever unconsciously stepped back, the color draining from his face.

"Even if you scream at me that it wasn’t fair, or that you weren’t ready, that wouldn’t stop me. Because in the real world... fairness doesn’t exist." Bolder’s voice was colder than before, his eyes sharp as a blade.

Even the knights nearby fell silent. A chill spread across the field as they processed his words. There was truth in them—bitter, cruel, but undeniable.

Bolder turned away from Sever without another glance and began walking out of the training ground. His exit was like a final slash, cutting off the argument entirely and leaving a lasting impression. From the crowd, Harry—his friend—ran up to him, smiling proudly and holding out a towel.

"Bolder! That was awesome!" Harry said with a laugh, handing him the towel to wipe off his sweat.

Meanwhile, Sever was left behind, red-faced and seething with anger. His nose was still bleeding, and his pride was shattered. A few of his friends hurried over to help him up, but even they seemed unsure how to comfort him after the humiliation.

As Bolder walked away, he glanced down at his right hand. It trembled slightly, covered in dust, bruises, and cuts from both the harsh training and the duel. His breathing was shallow, his body aching from the stress he’d forced it through.

His thoughts wandered back—back to the moment he fought Eren Valmont.

The same scene played again in his mind, clear as day: how Eren had deflected all of Bolder’s attacks effortlessly, as if he had predicted each move before it happened. The boy had fought with calm precision and devastating efficiency, like a seasoned warrior hiding in a young body.

Just earlier, Bolder had tried to copy one of Eren’s techniques during his duel with Sever—the move that created an opening after a block—but he had failed to fully replicate it. Though he managed to deflect Sever’s blade, it had grazed his right arm, leaving a small but painful cut. He realized now just how far he still was from reaching Eren’s level.

It had already been a week since Bolder began pushing himself into intense training, following a brutal regimen similar to that of Lady Mereoleona. He trained longer, fought harder, trained his basic again, and punished his body more severely than anyone else. Yet, even now, he knew it wasn’t enough.

Clenching his fist tightly, he silently swore to himself.

’One day, I’ll face that arrogant, rich brat again. And next time—I’ll win.’

Unbeknownst to Bolder, up on the training ground wall, Knight Commander Carlos had watched everything unfold with crossed arms and an unreadable expression. A smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his lips as he rubbed the short beard on his chin thoughtfully before turning away and leaving.

He had somewhere to be.

It was time for his scheduled duel with Lady Mereoleona. Weeks ago, she had approached him with an unusual request, to spar privately with him every day. Carlos hadn’t understood her motive at the time, but her fierce determination was undeniable. She wanted to grow stronger—more than ever before.

What surprised Carlos even more was that Bolder, his proud and stubborn student, who he stopped giving him a private training, had also begun to change. He was training relentlessly, pushing his limits beyond reason. Something had clearly awakened in both of them.

And Carlos believed he knew the reason.

Eren Valmont.

That name echoed in his mind. The second son of House Valmont. At first, he thought the rumors were exaggerated. A noble kid who never trained on using a sword had defeated his student? That sounded like nonsense. But after observing the changes in the young lady and his student —their drive, their discipline, their hunger—Carlos began to suspect that the boy truly was something special.

He remembered the moment in the duel when Bolder changed his stance, when facing Sever’s last attack. It was unfamiliar, clearly borrowed.

And yet... effective.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he approached the next training ground, where Mereoleona stood waiting, sword in hand, eyes blazing with impatience.

"Eren Valmont," he murmured under his breath, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.

’I’ll have to meet that boy myself’

...

...

...

Meanwhile, back on the main road, inside a luxurious white carriage adorned with the prestigious Crest of the Valmont Household, Eren sat comfortably in the back seat. Across from him, his personal maid, Marie, sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor despite the slight jolting of the carriage wheels against the rugged road.

Ten elite knights, clad in shining armor bearing the Valmont insignia, rode on horseback, forming a tight protective formation around the carriage. Their disciplined presence was like a moving wall of steel. Behind them, a secondary convoy of knights followed closely, guarding another carriage that carried the household’s servants, additional maids, travel supplies, and food provisions for the long journey ahead.

Eren leaned slightly against the window, his chin resting on his hand, gazing out with a look of growing boredom. The endless scenery of trees and dust-laden paths offered little entertainment. His thoughts wandered back to a recent conversation with his father.

He recalled how his father had sternly informed him, "The Academy begins in four months. I’ll allow you only one month to train in the Dry Forest before you return. No more."

Though Eren had nodded in agreement at the time, in truth, he had no intention of limiting himself to just a month. One month wasn’t enough. If he wants to stay ahead, then he needed more than that.

Letting out a sigh, he muttered under his breath, "This is taking way too long... When are we going to arrive already?"

Marie blinked, slightly startled by his complaint, before replying in her usual composed tone. "About three more days, Young Master."

Eren frowned and grumbled again, then mentally called out to his system.

’Hey, how long has it been since we left the city?’

The system, slightly puzzled by the question, responded promptly.

[Master...It’s been 5 minutes since your departure.]

"...."