Having defeated two Kingsguard in succession, the field was instantly in an uproar.
The referee beat the gong frantically, cheering with spit flying: "Prince Daeron has defeated Prince Lewyn, the second member of the Kingsguard in this match!"
Daeron did not leave the field; he raised the obsidian blade and pointed it once again at the spot where Rhaegar was.
He wanted to force Rhaegar onto the field for a one-on-one duel.
One of the anchors of the False Spring stemmed from Rhaegar's superb martial skills, having won the championship in the jousting tournament.
He wanted to see how the other party would publicly declare his love if he were defeated first.
Nothing else intended, he just wanted to test the magnitude of history's inertia.
His action immediately caused a strong reaction.
Cersei's face was flushed. She clutched Jaime's arm and screamed, "Did you see that? Did you see that! Prince Daeron defeated that Prince of Dorne."
The Kingsguard during the Mad King's era were not comparable to the frauds of later generations; each was among the top knights on the continent.
For Daeron to defeat two in a row was simply astounding.
Jaime said nothing, letting his sister vent her excitement, while an indelible envy was hidden in the depths of his eyes.
He also wanted to enter the tournament and win his own glory.
But he knew in his heart that with his current skills, he could at most match Ser Oswell, and definitely could not defeat Prince Lewyn.
"How can he be so strong?"
Immediately, Jaime thought of the way Ser Barristan utilized Life Force.
The special state Daeron was in during the fight just now was very likely that method.
Jaime's mind raced, pondering: "This high-level application is likely only held by the royal family and the Kingsguard. If I—?"
As soon as the thought arose, he quickly shook his head to dismiss it.
He was the heir to Casterly Rock; he couldn't drape the white cloak over his shoulders just because he admired the White Knights.
.
In the stands.
Rhaegar stared at the shimmering obsidian blade, his palm tightening around the hilt several times, only to quietly release it each time.
He had the confidence to fight.
But the purpose of this trip was to increase his prestige and invite the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to depose his father's power.
If he entered the field now, his reputation would be greatly diminished if he lost, and it would be seen as nothing special if he won.
Instead, it would place him and Daeron on the same level, viewed as internal royal strife, losing his advantage as the heir to the Iron Throne.
"Prince—?"
Ser Arthur spoke, wanting to relieve the Prince's worries.
Rhaegar waved his hand in refusal.
0
"Blackfish" Brynden's eyes were sharp as he evaluated: "His sword is too fast. If one cannot block the successive slashes of the two swords, they won't even last until his next breath."
Nearby, the heirs of the Eagle, Stag, and Wolf houses sat in a row.
"If I were to enter, could I defeat him?"
Brandon wiped his sword, somewhat eager to try.
Brynden didn't give him any face at all, saying with his characteristic black humor: "If you met on the battlefield, you'd be hacked into several pieces within three moves."
Brandon was greatly embarrassed.
Fearing he wouldn't believe it, Brynden kindly reminded him, though it was actually a verbal killing blow: "If you can't last until his next breath, it's better not to humiliate yourself."
He was getting on in years, but his eyes were still bright.
In his breath-holding state, Daeron's physical attributes far exceeded their limits; every swing of his sword carried incredible power and speed.
Prince Lewyn had chosen to withstand the slashes of the twin swords head-on and suffered a great loss.
Albert Arryn watched for a while and spoke: "That boy is taking the opportunity to make a name for himself; there's no need for us to interfere."
He was over forty, the nephew of Lord Jon Arryn of The Eyrie, and the heir personally designated by the old Duke.
Among the bunch of young lads, he was somewhat out of place.
"I won't participate, but Brandon can give it a try."
Eddard was still very young and gave his older brother a hard nudge, wanting to see him make a fool of himself.
Brandon immediately put him in a headlock, riding Eddard like a horse.
"Let go of Eddard!"
Lyanna gave a soft shout, stopping the brothers' exaggerated horseplay.
Originally intending to let things take their course, someone just had to try and be a hero.
Robert Baratheon stood up abruptly, his height as imposing as a towering giant, standing out like a crane among a flock of chickens.
Even more annoying was that the young Robert was handsome.
His face was neatly trimmed, his eyes were bright and spirited, and he possessed a tall and muscular physique with thick, rough palms—clearly the result of years of training.
"Robert, you're going down there?"
Eddard rubbed his neck, looking at his good buddy in surprise.
Robert laughed loudly, secretly observing Lyanna's expression, then slapped his good brother's shoulder and said: "I am Robert Baratheon, the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms."
"That kid is a Dragonrider, true. But on the ground, the stag is sturdier."
Ignoring the dissuasion of others, he picked up his warhammer and went down to the field.
Eddard looked helpless.
"Robert's warhammer counters longswords; he might actually win."
Elbert crossed his arms, going along with Robert's bravado.
Lyanna coldly spat out: "Idiot."
Rhaegar didn't come, but an unexpected opponent did.
Daeron looked him over repeatedly and said in surprise: "Robert Baratheon?"
"That's right, it's me."
Robert's voice was booming as he carried a long-handled warhammer.
He wore silver-grey heavy armor, wrapped in a yellow surcoat embroidered with a stag, and a helmet with high-branching antlers.
As soon as he stood on the tournament field, he immediately received countless cheers.
The reputation of Robert Baratheon's prowess in battle was known to everyone in the Seven Kingdoms.
Daeron frowned, glancing at the motionless Rhaegar, and said strangely: "Do you know? The opponent I chose wasn't you."
He wanted to fight Rhaegar to eliminate the False Spring.
:
You, Robert, the victim of the story, are insisting on taking the blow for someone else?
"So what? I've chosen you as my opponent."
Robert laughed heartily, thinking he looked very cool.
Daeron smiled faintly: "Fine then, let it be you."
Just don't regret it.
Clang clang clang!
The referee made a great fuss, praising the duel as a once-in-a-century event, causing the audience to focus all their attention on the field.
"Kid, once you're off the dragon's back, you'd better be careful!"
Robert gave a roar and charged with his warhammer.
Daeron did not dare to be careless, his legs moving back and forth, his two swords slowly spiraling.
The warhammer was not a square mallet, nor a round-headed hammer used by blacksmiths; it was square like a seal on one side and sharp like an iron hook on the other, capable of both crushing and piercing on the battlefield, possessing great destructive power.
If this thing hit your body once, you would basically lose all mobility.
Robert took a large stride, twisted his waist, and swung the warhammer in a horizontal sweep toward Daeron's waist.
Daeron immediately retreated.
The same scene occurred repeatedly.
Robert launched offensives, while Daeron kept backing away.
After a short while, Robert became greatly annoyed and roared: "Kid, is running all you know how to do?"
"Idiot!"
Daeron looked at him with contempt.
These words undoubtedly enraged his opponent, making his attacks even more frantic. The massive warhammer whipped up a whirlwind, whistling and roaring.
"Good grief, is he tireless?"
Daeron fought while retreating, encountering this kind of pure output style for the first time.
"Hahaha, don't let me catch you!"
Robert let out a wild laugh, his voice deafening, looking every bit like a great demon king.
Cheers continued on the field, as many people recalled the once-famous Laughing Storm.
That was Robert's great-grandfather.
He had participated in the famous "Tourney at Ashford Meadow" and helped Ser Duncan the Tall win the Trial of Seven.
Later, Prince Duncan "the Small" fell in love with "Jenny of Oldstones," breaking his betrothal to House Baratheon. The Laughing Storm indignantly reclaimed the title of Storm King and started a rebellion.
The rebellion ended quickly; in a one-on-one duel, Ser Duncan the Tall defeated The Laughing Storm, putting a stop to the revolt.
Afterward, Aegon V married his youngest daughter, Princess Rhaelle, to the Baratheon heir to mend the feelings between the two houses.
Robert was Princess Rhaelle's eldest grandson.
Clang!
Once again, the warhammer brushed past his waist. Daeron used his sword to parry the long handle, and the obsidian blade slashed toward Robert's neck.
"Hmm!?"
Robert was startled, and his muscular, tower-like body immediately retreated.
Having narrowly dodged the sword, a drop of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.
Just now, he was a hair's breadth away from having his throat slit.
Whoosh!
An uproar broke out in the stands; no one expected the situation on the field to reverse so suddenly, with Prince Daeron, who had been defending without attacking for so long, nearly completing a decapitation.
At this moment, Daeron's gaze was cold as he stared at his opponent's vital points.
He stopped breathing, utilizing the second way of using Life Frequency.
Following "Attachment" to weapons, it was "Augmentation" of the body.
The principle was that after achieving the Life Frequency, the activated Life Force would be contracted within the body to stimulate body cells, achieving an all-around Augmentation effect.
However, this method had only been developed for a short time and had two disadvantages compared to "Attachment."
First, the longer it was maintained, the greater the burden on the body.
Second, the Life Frequency relied on special weapons and was like rootless duckweed; once contracted within the body, the user could not breathe, or it would disrupt the frequency and lose the Augmentation effect.
"Come and fight!"
Daeron roared inwardly, charging forward while dual-wielding his swords.
After the initial panic, Robert quickly adjusted. His eyes were bloodshot, and his breathing was like a broken bellows, mobilizing a vigorous Life Force far beyond that of ordinary people and pouring it into every inch of his body.
He didn't know Life Frequency, but he had a body of unrivaled brute strength.
"Aah!!"
Robert gave a loud shout and swung his strongest hammer blow.
Daeron was not to be outdone; he held his sword in his left hand for an upward parry and his sword in his right hand for a forward thrust.
Clang!
The warhammer, carrying incomparable power, instantly shattered the standard longsword. The immense force sent a shock through Daeron's body, causing him to stagger. His web of the thumb split and bled, and the broken sword flew out of his hand.
Even so, it was thanks to the 8 points of defense provided by the Crab Shell Ring and Fire-Walker Boots.
Otherwise, Robert's full-strength strike could have physically shattered his arm.
The battle wasn't over yet.
Daeron's eyes were like torches. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his left arm, he seized the moment Robert's hammer landed. The obsidian blade was coated in a layer of dark light as it went straight for his throat.
He wanted to kill the opponent directly.
Casualties occurring at a tourney were not a rare occurrence.
!!
Robert felt a fatal danger. Battle-hardened as he was, he immediately raised his foot and kicked his opponent's abdomen, using the force to lean his body back.
The next moment.
The obsidian blade pierced through the surcoat embroidered with a stag, penetrated the heavy armor, and ran through his shoulder from front to back, emerging as a blood-stained blade.
Robert gave a muffled groan. He was indeed a tough man, grabbing the obsidian blade with one hand to prevent any potential secondary damage.
Daeron's eyes flickered, and he decisively abandoned the idea of using the duel to kill.
It wasn't that he had missed; it was that the opponent was experienced.
Robert gritted his teeth and slowly pulled out the obsidian blade, panting like a bull: "Kid, you're quite ruthless."
That sword strike just now had almost pierced his throat.
Ruthless enough; he liked it!
Daeron raised his bleeding left hand and said calmly: "The feeling is mutual."
This match was indeed a satisfying one.
He had gained many more ideas for the development of Life Frequency.
This duel ended with Robert's admission of defeat.
His right shoulder had suffered a penetrating wound, and his entire right arm had lost sensation; he had to leave the field immediately for treatment.
Daeron, exhausted, left the field after his victory.
"Wait a moment!"
Aerys suddenly stood up, his expression fierce, and called out to his second son.
more chapter available in p@tréøñ(Atoki_29)