The entire world was silent. Everyone watched quietly, blankly, as Jones stood in the center, gritting his teeth, laughing, crying. The hand clutching the sword grew tighter and tighter.
At this moment, no one knew what he was thinking, nor did anyone know what to say.
The entire world remained in silence.
With a swift motion, Duke Clement grasped the few remaining poison needles that had been floating above his palm, then let them fall to the ground with a clinking sound. He turned sideways as though ready to walk away.
"Stop!" Jones shouted suddenly. His voice carried a trace of sobbing, mixed with a beast-like roar.
Duke Clement halted his steps, standing still, his back facing Jones without a single trace of expression.
"The fight... isn’t over yet."
"But you can’t possibly win."
"But I haven’t lost either!" Jones snarled through clenched teeth, his voice harsh and roaring, "As long as I’m still standing here, I haven’t lost!"
Duke Clement slowly turned his head.
Jones raised the sword in his hand, pointing it toward Duke Clement. His heavy breaths echoed, while a thin trickle of blood slid down slowly from his forehead.
"How long are you going to keep this madness up?!" Before Duke Clement could respond, Count Dracula had already stepped forward, blocking the space between the two. "Drop your weapon immediately! As your father, I command you!"
Jones didn’t flinch, as though Count Dracula didn’t exist at all. His sword still pointed toward Duke Clement.
Even Adelle was stunned. The Blood Clan members he brought, along with the dwarves under Jones’ command, all stared dumbfounded.
The wind blew softly, brushing across Jones’ tear-streaked face and lifting his tattered cape.
Time slipped away second by second as Duke Clement gazed expressionlessly at his opponent, separated by merely one person.
After a long while, Duke Clement finally spoke softly, "I agree."
"You agree?" Count Dracula spun around abruptly.
Duke Clement smiled faintly and continued, "But I have a new suggestion."
"What... suggestion?" Jones asked.
"Let your father take my place and duel with you."
In an instant, Count Dracula stared at Duke Clement in utter astonishment.
Count Messier had already covered his face with his hand and turned away.
"Let..." Count Dracula stammered, "Let me duel with him on your behalf?"
"Why not?" Duke Clement looked at Count Dracula blankly. "I told you long ago, your son is your problem to deal with."
Count Dracula’s scalp went numb. "But... but I just..."
"I’ve dueled countless times before, with both victories and defeats. But no matter what the result, I’ve never cheated." Duke Clement smiled, shaking his head slowly. He lightly patted Count Dracula’s shoulder and said, "You handle the rest yourself. This is as far as I’ll help you, and honestly, I’m starting to regret it."
With that said, he brushed past Count Dracula.
Count Dracula directed a pleading glance toward Count Messier, but Count Messier simply unsheathed the sword from his waist and tossed it toward him. "Use my sword. It’s sharper."
As he caught Count Messier’s thrown sword, Count Dracula stood there in a daze, staring at the blade in his hand.
In the center of the battlefield, only he and Jones remained. Other than that, there was one unconscious Hydra. Everyone else had retreated far away, leaving the space clear for their duel.
Having returned to his own men, Duke Clement turned around and stood firmly. Count Messier quickly leaned in closer behind him, whispering, "On his behalf, I apologize to you."
"It’s fine." Duke Clement calmly observed Jones and replied softly, "He’s a stubborn child."
The branches of the surrounding forest swayed with the wind. Dust swept across the motionless Hydra, passing between the father and son who stood in the battlefield’s center. Their cloaks fluttered in the breeze.
Jones slowly moved the tip of his sword, pointing it at Count Dracula.
Count Dracula slowly turned his face to the side.
Covering his mouth, Jones let out two heavy coughs. Under the strain of his injuries and the relentless, high-intensity battles, his vision grew hazy.
On the opposite side, however, Count Dracula still appeared full of vigor. Perhaps his fight with Jones earlier had drained some of his strength, but now he had recovered fully.
Undoubtedly, this was yet another unfair duel.
In a quiet study, Prince Louis Sambo sat silently, his body slightly turned as he gazed out the window at the brightly lit Hilde.
"The young master has gathered a lot of people and taken quite a bit of money from the treasury. Of course, it’s all his own money." A tall, thin member of the Blood Clan stood on the other side of the desk, reporting cautiously. "He did everything in secret. If not for the fact that someone he mobilized happened to be... not so close to him, we might not have even found out."
"Do we know what he’s up to?"
"Not yet. I’ve already sent someone to follow him. Based on the time, they should be arriving soon. We’ll quickly bring the young master back."
"How much has he overdrawn this time?"
At this question, the tall, thin Blood Clan member froze momentarily.
Without turning his head, Prince Louis Sambo took a deep breath and said, "You specifically emphasized ’his own money’ just now. If I’m not mistaken, he must’ve overspent again. Speak—how much did he deplete?"
"N-not much," the Blood Clan member stammered in response.