Investing in My Crippled Wife: My Duchess Makes me Overpowered

But he knew her. At least, he was starting to.

Her hands were gripping the armrests of her chair so hard he could tell her knuckles had gone white.

He held her gaze. Just a moment. Long enough to say everything he couldn’t say out loud.

I’ve got this. I’ve got you. Trust me.

She gave a small nod. Almost imperceptible. That was all he needed.

Lord Kylian Voss entered from the opposite side.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Why wouldn’t they.

He was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome. He was wearing a fighting tunic that showed off his athletic build.

No wonder the noble woman in the stands were losing their minds. Emeric could feel his eyes rolling to the back of his head as Kylian made his appearance, taking a lap round the arena. He carried his sword with easy confidence. The confidence of a man who had done this, many times before.

His face was calm. But his eyes—his eyes were burning.

He stopped ten feet from Emeric. Gave a shallow bow toward the Queen’s dais.

”Your Majesty.” His voice carried across the arena. ”I thank you for your hospitality. And your wisdom in allowing this matter to be settled honorably.”

Queen Sylvia inclined her head. Her expression unreadable.

”Lord Voss. Lord Halden. You have both requested this duel. I have granted it.” A pause. Her eyes moving between them. ”The rules are simple: victory by surrender. Magic is permitted but regulated. The judge will intervene if the contest becomes unreasonably dangerous.”

She paused.

”Begin.”

Voss turned to face Emeric fully. His smile as sharp as a blade.

”Any last words, Halden?”

Emeric raised his sword. Settled into his stance.

”I’m saving them for you.”

Voss laughed but there was no humor in it. Then he attacked!

[DUEL COMMENCED]

[OPPONENT: LORD KYLIAN VOSS — TIER 6]

[OBJECTIVE: DEFEND TARGET’S HONOR]

Not now system.

Emeric thought inwardly. He was trying not to die.

Voss came in fast. His blade cutting a sharp arc toward Emeric’s shoulder.

Emeric parried the attack; the impact jarring up his arm.

Voss was strong. Much stronger.

”You’re better than I expected.” Voss said, his blade making a screeching noise as it locked with his. ”But that’s not saying much.”

Emeric said nothing. Counting breaths. Conserving energy.

Voss broke the lock and came again. Emeric sidestepped, deflecting the blow.

The crowd gasped as the blade sliced his tunic. But it did not draw blood.

He had to find an opening.

Not yet. Not yet.

He could tell that Voss was getting irritated. He had stopped playing. His attacks came faster. Harder. More brutal. He was trying to end this quickly. Humiliate Emeric in front of the entire court.

Emeric gave ground. Arms growing heavy. Breath coming in ragged gasps. As he parried and dodged his attacks.

Voss lunged at him, connecting to flesh, causing the crowd to gasp even more.

A cut across his ribs. It was not deep but it was proof that he could not win by dodging.

But there was no opening.

Emeric stumbled backwards and Voss pressed the advantage. A brutal flurry of strikes forced Emeric to his knees.

The crowd gasped. This was what they’d expected. The Unblessed failure. Crushed.

Voss sneered down at him.

”Kneeling. That’s where you belong.”

In the stands, Isolde’s hands clamped down on the armrests. Knuckles drained from lack of blood.

A noble whispered to his neighbor: ”The Unblessed one is going to die. What a waste. His wife—the Storm Mage—she must be watching in horror.”

Another responded: ”She used to command storms. Now she can’t even stand. And her husband is about to be humiliated by a Force mage. How the mighty have fallen.”

Isolde heard them. Her powerlessness was eating at her.

Emeric felt it.

[EMERGENT BOND ACTIVATED]

[TARGET IN DISTRESS — EMOTIONAL TURMOIL DETECTED]

[+10% TO ALL PHYSICAL STATS]

Strength flooded his limbs. His vision sharpened. He could hear his own heartbeat. He could hear the whisper of Voss’s sword cutting through the air above him.

He rolled sideways. Barely avoiding the follow-up strike. The blunted steel bit into the earth where he’d been kneeling.

He came up fast. Sword angled. And moved.

Emeric was faster now. Noticeably faster. He closed the distance before Voss could reset his stance. Sword singing through the air.

A shallow cut across Voss’s forearm. Blood welling through his tunic.

Voss blinked. How?

Emeric pressed the advantage. A flurry of strikes that were fast and precise. Voss parried. But he was on the back foot for the first time.

Another hit. Across Voss’s thigh. Blood soaking through his trousers.

Voss roared in frustration and pushed. A wave of force erupted from him—Force Magic. Telekinetic Push. It sent Emeric skidding backward across the dirt.

He rolled. Came up with dust in his mouth. But there was no time to catch his breath. Voss was already moving toward him.

He blocked the attack but there was more force in this one, like he was rooted to the earth.

Emeric’s knees buckled, trembling beneath the force.

Voss shifted his sword, sliding it off the blade lock and cut Emeric’s face.

He had a wicked smile on, sending a kick to his ribs, causing him to be thrown to the other side of the arena.

The crowd was going wild now.

He stood still, raising his blade to feel Emeric’s blood on the blade.

”You are nothing.” He said, almost a whisper as he prepared for the final blow.

The murmurs in the crowd had grown louder. ”He’s going to finish the fight. If he’s smart, he’ll yield.”

In the stands, Duke Halden’s expression was unreadable. But his hands had tightened on the armrests of his chair.

Voss was done playing. He conjured a concentrated lance of force. Raw power aimed directly at Emeric’s chest.

It was clear what this was. It was meant to end the fight.

Emeric raised his hand.

[ACTIVATING: WIND MAGIC]

[DEFLECTION]

The familiar feeling of reaching his mana core filled his body.

A wall of wind erupted around Emeric. The force lance shattered against it, dissipating harmlessly into the morning air.