The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He? - Chapter 244

Chapter 244: Chapter 244 – Brother!? Why are you attacking me?
The moon hung heavy above the Valentine estate, its pale light spilling over marble and stone, turning every shadow into a blade. The night air was taut, humming with a quiet violence.

Vincent’s sword cut down in a streak of silver.

Luca’s reflexes screamed before his mind could. He leapt back, the blade grazing the air where his chest had been. His breath tore out of him in disbelief, eyes wide.

“Brother—?! What the hell are you doing?!”

The only answer was Vincent’s unbroken glare, his stance steady, his movements precise. Another strike came—faster, sharper, a diagonal cut aimed to shear through Luca’s guard.

Luca’s hand shot to his ring. In a flare of light, the twin sabers appeared, their curved blades gleaming coldly under the moon. For a heartbeat, Vincent’s brows flicked upward—the barest crack in his mask.

“You…” he muttered under his breath, but his focus did not waver. His sword lunged again.

Luca raised his sabers in a cross-guard, steel meeting steel with a screech that rang through the courtyard. The impact jolted his arms, his knees bending to absorb the force. He staggered back two steps, his pulse hammering.

“Why, Brother?! Why are you doing this?!”

No reply. Only the whistle of the next strike.

Vincent pressed forward like a storm, his footwork flawless—heels barely whispering against the stone, weight shifting with predatory precision. His blade weaved thrusts and slashes in a brutal rhythm: high feint, low cut, sudden stab. Luca’s sabers answered desperately, one deflecting with a hard outside parry, the other cutting back in wide arcs to create space. Sparks burst like fleeting stars, each clash ringing louder than the last. His breath came ragged, every step forcing him closer to the fountain at the courtyard’s center.

“Answer me, damn it!” Luca’s voice cracked. He gritted his teeth, sweat mixing with the night air. “Why are you—”

The strike nearly took his cheek. Vincent’s sword curved in a backhand slash, and Luca twisted at the last instant, his left saber catching the blade in a sharp bind. The force rattled through his bones. His right saber lashed out in retaliation with a horizontal sweep aimed at Vincent’s ribs, but Vincent rolled his wrist, disengaging the lock, and flowed past it, his sword tip grazing dangerously close to Luca’s side.

Luca’s thoughts spun, panic gnawing at the edges of his focus. This isn’t sparring. He’s aiming to cut me down. Why? Why now?

The weight of the nightmare still clung to his chest, muddling his judgment, shaking his limbs. The clash of metal roared louder than his own pulse.

No… I can’t think about that. Not now.

Luca clenched his teeth, dragging in a harsh breath. He forced the storm inside him into silence, pushed the questions, the fear, the confusion—away.

Focus. Clear your mind. Just the fight.

The world sharpened.

His grip adjusted, knuckles white, blades held lower to maximize speed. His footwork steadied, heels pivoting cleanly as he circled. His sabers sliced arcs of silver light across the courtyard, one blade intercepting strikes, the other probing for openings. His senses narrowed to one thing—Vincent’s blade, his movements, his rhythm.

And then—words ceased.

Steel crashed against steel. Sparks scattered like fireflies into the night. Their feet slid and pivoted on gravel, every shift purposeful. Vincent’s strikes were disciplined, merciless: vertical cuts cleaving down, thrusts that shot like arrows, quick disengages that broke binds before Luca could counter. Luca met them with twin arcs, one saber intercepting with angular parries while the other struck in ripostes, forcing Vincent to weave his blade in tight defensive lines.

The courtyard became a storm of clashing steel, the silence between them louder than any cry. Blades met again and again, ringing like a funeral bell through the night.

Vincent’s sword thrust forward in a straight lunge, precise and direct. Luca spun on his heel, his left saber deflecting it outward with a tight inside parry while his right curved up in a deadly slash aimed for Vincent’s exposed collarbone. Vincent’s eyes narrowed, his torso twisting back just enough for the blade to whistle past his throat, the wind of it grazing his skin.

Neither faltered.

They pressed forward again—Vincent’s cuts raining down like hammer blows, Luca answering with the whirling momentum of dual blades. Each exchange was faster, tighter, more brutal: blade to blade, step to step, breath to ragged breath.

A final clash split the air—sword against twin sabers, locked tight, neither brother moving. Their gazes locked, fire and ice, wordless and unyielding, the night swallowing their silence whole.

Their blades trembled against each other, locked tight, until both gave a final push—metal shrieking as they broke apart. The recoil sent them sliding back, boots grinding against gravel.

Luca’s chest heaved, lungs burning as he sucked in the night air. Sweat trickled down his brow, the sting of strained muscles screaming in his arms. Across from him, Vincent stood steady, his sword angled low, his breath heavy but controlled.

They circled in silence, the moonlight painting sharp edges across their faces.

Then Vincent shifted—just one step forward.

Luca tightened his grip, both sabers raised defensively, but the strike never came. Vincent’s blade lowered slightly, his figure walking toward Luca with deliberate calm.

“Why…?” Luca rasped, his voice rough, desperate. His chest rose and fell with each word. “Why did you attack me?”

Vincent’s eyes, cold and unreadable, flicked toward him. When he spoke, his tone was as sharp as his blade—measured, without hesitation.

“You think too much.”

Luca blinked, his breath caught. “…What?”

“You torment yourself,” Vincent said, his steps slow, unyielding, the steel in his hand glinting with each sway. “Always asking questions to yourself, drowning in things that aren’t yours to carry. Things too far ahead to reach. Things you can’t change yet.”

His gaze sharpened, pinning Luca as firmly as any blade.

“Instead of fighting what’s in front of you, you’re trapped in your own head. Every thought slows you. Every doubt weighs you down. That’s why you stumble.”

Luca’s throat tightened. The words sank heavier than the fight itself.

Vincent stopped just a few paces away, lowering his sword completely.

“Look at this battle. At the start, you were on the back foot—panicked, reaching for answers, desperate for reasons. You almost lost before you even fought.” His voice dropped, cold but steady. “But the moment you silenced those thoughts… the moment you stopped asking ‘why’ and just fought—you stood against me. You adapted. You pushed back.”

Silence fell between them. Only the ripple of the fountain and their ragged breathing filled the courtyard.

Luca’s fingers clenched tighter around his sabers, but his arms trembled—not from the strain of combat, but from the weight of Vincent’s words.

…He’s right. I was drowning in questions. About him, about the nightmare, about everything. Every doubt chained me, held me back. When I let them go—even for a heartbeat—I could breathe. I could fight.

But… is it really that simple? Can I just stop thinking? Stop fearing?

His chest tightened, conflict raging inside him louder than their blades ever had.

Vincent’s eyes lingered on him one last time, as cold and cutting as winter steel.

“Stop tormenting yourself with what isn’t in your hands. Focus on what’s in front of you. Let time deal with the rest.”

The words hung heavy in the night air, unyielding, undeniable.

Luca lowered his sabers slightly, staring at his brother in silence. His thoughts churned, his heart hammering—but beneath the chaos, a strange clarity flickered, fragile yet undeniable.

Vincent’s sword slid back into its sheath with a clean, final sound. He didn’t speak again. Didn’t glance back. He simply turned, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone as he walked away, leaving the weight of his words behind in the cool night air.

Luca remained there, sabers loose in his hands, his chest still rising and falling. The silence pressed on him, heavier than any clash of steel.

He closed his eyes, dragging in a long breath, and let the twin blades vanish back into his spatial ring. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“…Focus on what’s in front of me, huh?” he muttered under his breath, Vincent’s words cutting deeper now than they had in the moment. His mind replayed every strike, every doubt, every stagger—then the strange stillness when he had finally let go.

A sigh left him, unsteady at first, but lighter than before, “I guess he’s right.”

Slowly, his gaze drifted toward the horizon. The edge of night was already bleeding into color, faint streaks of gold and rose piercing the darkness.

The dawn was breaking.

Luca let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as the tension in his body finally eased. “It’s already morning, huh?”

His lips tugged into a faint, wry smile.

“Well… let’s get ready. Yesterday, after talking with Mother, Brother decided… Today’s the day. We will leave for the Elven Forest.”

His eyes sharpened, a quiet anticipation stirring in his chest as the first rays of sunlight spilled over the Valentine estate.

“For the adventure waiting ahead… let’s go.”