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"Hey, hey, where are the honorifics?" Spark corrected nonchalantly, his voice carrying a casual authority. Though they were far away, his voice reached the arena below, cutting through the silence like a blade.

"Forgive my rudeness, young lord," the steward hurriedly replied with a bow, sweat forming on his forehead. "I didn\'t know the young lord was present here. If I did, I would have come to welcome you."

"Didn\'t you deliberately not send an invitation to me?" Spark\'s tone was light, yet the accusation was clear, causing a ripple of murmurs among the crowd.

"How could I not? There must be some misunderstanding. The person I sent to deliver it must have lost it somewhere," the steward stammered, visibly anxious. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the precarious situation he found himself in.

"Forget it," Spark waved a hand dismissively, his gaze shifting to Victor.

"Where did you pick him from?" he asked as if referring to a stray animal rather than a person.

"That… We\'ve recently met," the steward replied, his voice shaky.

The Clear Sky Tower had carefully ensured that no information about Victor leaked to the Dwight family and had even refrained from informing anyone from the Dwight family about this gathering of geniuses. But it seemed their plan had failed, and Spark had been watching all along.

Victor stood in the center of the arena, his golden hair gleaming under the sunlight. He locked eyes with Spark, a determined fire burning within them.

"Dwight Spark," Victor said, his voice steady, yet filled with a challenge. "Will you accept my challenge?"

"I thought he was only crazy, but it seems he is also an idiot," Baros commented from the viewing platform, shaking his head. His words, though meant to be a private remark, carried across the hushed audience, adding to the tension.

Below, the steward tried to defuse the situation, his face pale with worry. "Young lord, please don\'t listen to his foolish words. I will reprimand him later."

"No. I want to fight him," Victor said firmly, his words carrying an unyielding resolve. His stance was that of a warrior ready to prove himself, his grip on his sword tightening.

"Oh, what a hot-blooded guy," Spark remarked with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Tell me your full name."

The steward seemed desperate to stop Victor from speaking further, but Victor ignored him and spoke with unwavering determination. "Dwight Victor."

The crowd fell into a stunned silence. Although a few had speculated that Victor might be related to the Dwights because of his hair, they hadn\'t expected it to be true. The revelation hung in the air, adding another layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.

Dwight, as a duke family, had branches spread around. But they were only branches in the end. Their words held no influence like the main family led by Spark\'s father, Duke Renard. They were family in name only, sharing the same surname. Don\'t miss chapters on m v l e m p y r

"I see," Spark nodded, his hand on his chin. "No wonder I found that sword technique familiar."

In the empire, the Dwights were known for their near-flawless sword technique, Sword Point. This secret technique explored every realm of swordsmanship, from ordinary swings to intricate moves, covering every detail. No other sword technique came close to the Dwight\'s, which was one of the reasons they became a pillar of the empire.

It was even rumored that the Dwights were blessed with bodies perfect for sword practice.

Spark, peering down at Victor with a blend of curiosity and disdain, scoffed, "As a nobody from a branch family, what gives you the audacity to challenge me? Do you even think you\'re worthy of this duel?"

This remark from Spark further solidified the crowd\'s belief that Victor was indeed from the Dwight family.

Victor\'s sword pointed directly towards Spark, his voice unwavering but his eyes burning with intensity. "Being from the main family doesn\'t automatically make you the best. I\'ll show you that talent isn\'t limited to your branch."

Spark raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with condescension. "Is that all? Jealousy? How pitiful. If that\'s your only reason, you\'re truly a fool."

"Fine. Let\'s see how the so-called genius from Clear Sky Tower picked can fare against me." With a slight smirk, Spark descended from the viewing platform, each step echoing in the now silent arena.

Spark stopped a few feet away from Victor, his eyes locking onto the young challenger. The crowd\'s anticipation reached a fever pitch as the two stood facing each other. The steward, still pale, stepped back, giving them the stage.

"Bring out your sword," Victor demanded, ready to charge. His posture was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to release.

"I don\'t have one," Spark shrugged. His nonchalance was infuriating. "Let me borrow this."

Spark walked over and grabbed a wooden sword from the lined-up training weapons near the wall. The crowd murmured in confusion and curiosity, watching his every move.

"When was the last time I held a sword? I don\'t remember." Spark murmured, swinging the sword around carelessly, like a kid swinging a stick. The ease with which he handled the weapon was both impressive and infuriating.

"Are you mocking me?" Victor asked, a hint of anger in his voice. His grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white.

"No. I might accidentally kill you with a real sword, and I don\'t want the blood of a so-called genius on my hands," Spark replied casually. His tone was aloof, almost bored, yet the words were sharp as blades.

Victor\'s eyes narrowed, fury blazing in his gaze. "You\'ll regret those words."