The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving - Chapter 127: Chapter 127

To make the duel fair, Lylah was to deliver three strikes while the head warrior had to avoid them for three rounds.
After three rounds, if Lylah landed her strikes, she would win. The head warrior, of course, was allowed to defend himself and fight back until the end.
“Do you think I stand a chance?” Lylah recalled asking Lord Lucas the night before.
“You’re seriously asking that when your match is tomorrow?” He chuckled lightly. “You’re something else, little wolf.”
“I just want to know what you think. You haven’t shared your opinion on this, and I badly want to know. Is there any chance of me winning?” she asked, curious.
“Would you cancel the match if I told you there isn’t?”
“No,” she replied straightforwardly. “I want to show you what I’ve got. Besides, I feel like there’s no time.”
“No time for what?”
Lylah’s face reddened slightly, and she laughed it off awkwardly. “It’s nothing. I just want to join the warriors officially, that’s all.”
“Hm.” Lucas averted his gaze to the sky. “The head warrior is ten times stronger than you. His strikes are going to cause serious damage, so you need to be very careful—especially since you don’t have a wolf to heal you. Hell you might die on the field.”
Lylah swallowed hard, her face paled.
“But a mouse can kill an elephant if it has the determination.” Lucas flicked his gaze to her. “With the kind of craziness you have, I’m sure you can pull this off.”
“Here’s the thing…” Lucas sat up and began to explain.
“As the head warrior, he’ll think the match is a waste of time. He’ll look down on you as some pathetic little girl with a death wish.
He’ll be cautious, knowing you were trained by the King’s hand, but he’ll doubt you in every way—especially because you still don’t have a wolf.
He’ll see you as nothing more than dust—meant to be crushed and stepped on.
That will be his weakness. You’ve got to show him what he wants to see for a little while. Let him believe he’s right—and when his defense slack and the opening comes…
You strike.”
Just as Lucas had said, the head warrior underestimated her.
A soft chuckle left Rodaric, the head warrior. His eyes glinted with amusement.
Gently, he let go of his sword, the metal clashing softly as it touched the soil. He used one hand to rake his dark hair back, revealing the scar that ran across his left cheek to his forehead.
“Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” he muttered as the order was announced. "Since people like you won't get to learn their lesson until in an easy way."
Lylah gripped her dagger tighter, inhaling a deep breath she began to approach—low steps at first, before quickening into a run.
She swung her dagger, the blade slicing through the air as the head moved away from his spot without effort. She did it again. And again.
Her movements and speed were painfully slow.
She moved like a child, merely embarrassing herself, while the head warrior smirked, feeling on top of the world.
He wasn’t even using a fraction of his strength, yet he dodged every one of her attacks. She was already breathing heavily…
Honestly, as the student of the second ruler of he realm, he had expected more from her. This was utterly disappointing.
Finally he reached out, grabbed her hair from behind, and shoved her backward. Lylah fell with a groan, hurting her elbow.
Whispers rose in the air. Doubt and disappointment flashed in the eyes of the onlookers. Some shook their heads.
“I knew she was no good.”
“Look at her—fighting like an insect. I knew she was all talk and proud.”
“And to think the Grand Lord was her teacher. She’s disgracing him now.”
"She should just give up and end this already. I'm so bored."
As the murmurs grew, Lucas remained silent, his gaze unreadable. The tension in the air was as thick as fog.
Lylah scrambled to her feet and charged at him again. The head warrior moved, grabbing her hand and twisted it causing her dagger to fall. He kicked the weapon away.
Then he grabbed her neck with one hand, the other casually in his pocket—a posture meant to show superiority, as if she was nothing beside him. Lylah’s choking sounds filled the air, her face etched with pain, hands crawling on at his muscles rippled hand.
“C’mon, kiddo. The first round’s about to end. Do you want to keep disgracing yourself in front of everyone? Especially the Grand Lord?” His grip tightened, and Lylah’s face slowly turned red. “Just say the word—‘I yield’—and this will all be over. Go sit in your room and accept that you’ll never be a warrior without a wolf. It’s not just done that way.”
His gaze darkened. “Unless you want to end up half-dead, with broken bones and bruises—no wolf to heal you.”
Lylah choked again, viens tackling at her forehead.
“Accept that you’re still that pathetic girl,” the head warrior sneered. “And just do as you’re told, little one.”
Nyra, among the onlookers, began to panic. But as she glanced at Arianna, she saw a look of trust—and patience. She calmed and continued watching.
“When I heard I had a match with you, I expected something more. Thrilling and worth my time but I'm so disappointed,” Rodaric scoffed, just as his brows furrowed.
Lylah’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. A move too fast—or perhaps, a speed he never expected from her.
She retrieved her real dagger—one suited to her stance—and in the shortest moment, slashed the head warrior’s wrist, freeing herself. As soon as she was released, she immediately went for another strike—his foot.
Her posture shifted mid-air, the dagger swiftly sinking into his foot.
A growl pierced the air.