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Luke couldn't move. It wasn't just because the boy had gripped his throat, either. Something that more closely resembled murderous intent had radiated from Caron and suffocated him, wrapping around his lungs like a vise. But it was only for a moment.
"Oh, I've made another mistake. My apologies, Sir Luke. I must've gotten too caught up in the duel," Caron said, quickly pulling back the murderous intent as if nothing had happened. He loosened his grip on Luke's neck and stepped back, bowing politely and reiterating, "Once again, I'm sorry."
Luke gasped for breath, clutching his throat. The boy's strength was unbelievable for someone so young. And even now, he still couldn't breathe properly. After a few deep breaths, he finally managed to steady himself. He bit his lip, looking down at Caron.
He had lost. Utterly and undeniably, he had been defeated. Anyone who had watched the duel would have no trouble recognizing the victor.
Luke glanced at the wound he had inflicted on Caron's side. His sword had pierced deeply. It was a wound that required immediate care. But Caron merely patted the area casually, as if it was nothing.
Luke recognized what Caron was doing. It was a battlefield technique that knights often used to stop bleeding. But it only served to stanch the blood, not to alleviate the pain.
"Are you… alright?" Luke asked cautiously, still trying to catch his breath.
Caron waved a hand dismissively with a nonchalant expression and replied with a faint grin, "This? It's nothing. Maybe it's because I consumed...
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