By the time Mixarnt finally stopped, panting slightly but still grinning from ear to ear, the tavern erupted into applause. "Bravo, kid!" someone shouted. "That dragon didn’t stand a chance!" another added, laughing.

As the laughter in the tavern began to subside, a burly man with a thick beard and a twinkle in his eye approached Mixarnt’s table. His presence was commanding, and the patrons seemed to part respectfully as he made his way over. "Well, well, look at that! A hero in the making, right here in our humble tavern," he said, his voice booming with good humor. He clapped Mixarnt on the back with a force that would have knocked a lesser person off their stool. "I’m Gundrik, the proprietor of this establishment and a former Knight General. What’s your name, young warrior?"

Mixarnt grinned up at the man, his confidence undiminished. "I’m Mixarnt, an 11 years old boy, but just call me Mixarnt, the dragon slayer of the continent!" he declared, his voice full of bravado.

Lady Althea and Edward exchanged surprised glances. They hadn’t expected Gundrik, the former knight general and now tavern owner, to take such an interest in the boy. Gundrik was a legend in his own right, a man whose strength and skill were spoken of with reverence. Yet here he was, sitting across from Mixarnt, clearly intrigued and even fond of the boy after his earlier antics.

Gundrik's grin widened as he shook Mixarnt’s hand, his massive grip dwarfing the smaller one. "Mix, huh? Pleasure to meet you, youngster," he boomed, his hearty laugh echoing through the tavern. "Name's Gundrik. Or maybe 'Heroic Innkeeper' suits me better, Gahahaha!" he added, amused by Mixarnt’s playful title of "Dragon Slayer of the Continent."

Edward cleared his throat, his voice a mix of fondness and concern. "Gundrik, don’t get too carried away," he warned. "Mix here is just a silly child playing at being a warrior."

Althea, however, interjected, her emerald eyes sparkling with interest. "Nonsense, Edward! The boy may not have refined training, but there’s a spark within him—a hunger to excel, a thirst for adventure." She turned to Gundrik, her tone playful but pointed. "Isn’t that right, Gundrik?"

Gundrik chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Indeed, Althea. And speaking of sparks..." He turned to Mixarnt, his grin widening. "How about a friendly spar, lad? Just to gauge your mettle. No need to fear; I’ll go easy on you. Besides, it’s been ages since I’ve had a worthy opponent to test my skills against."

Edward and Althea choked on their drinks, their eyes widening in disbelief. They knew how strong Gundrik was—he was a former knight general, after all—and here he was, asking an 11-year-old boy for a spar. The tavern patrons exchanged incredulous glances, the air thick with anticipation.

Edward tried to regain some semblance of decorum. "Gundrik, surely you’re joking. This is Mixarnt, not some battle-hardened mercenary. He’s—"

"Eleven years old and full of fire, that’s what he is!" Gundrik interrupted, his grin unyielding. "Now, what do you say, Mixarnt? Ready to show me what you’ve got?"

Mixarnt stood up, his earlier playful demeanor replaced by a focused intensity. He flipped his wooden sword into the air with a simple kick, catching it effortlessly without even looking. "Bring it, old man! Hehe. See you outside the tavern!" With that, he dashed out of the tavern, his wooden sword in hand, and began stretching in the open space outside.

The tavern erupted into a mix of laughter and cheers as the patrons hurried to follow, eager to witness the spectacle. Edward and Althea exchanged another glance, this time one of resignation mixed with curiosity. "This should be... interesting," Althea said, a small smile playing on her lips.

Edward sighed, shaking his head. "That boy’s either the bravest or the most foolish kid I’ve ever met."

Gundrik, towering and confident, strode toward Mixarnt with his hands on his hips, his expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Alright, youngster, let’s see what you’re made of," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. With a fluid motion, he drew his own sword, the steel gleaming in the fading light of day. The crowd, now fully gathered around the makeshift arena, held its breath in anticipation.

Mixarnt, undeterred by Gundrik’s imposing presence, lowered his wooden short sword and began bouncing on his feet like a boxer, his movements light and unpredictable. With a sudden grin, he dashed forward, launching an attack with his wooden sword. His style was unorthodox, lacking the refined techniques of a trained swordsman. Instead, he relied on pure reflexes and intuition, his strikes wild but full of energy.

Gundrik met Mixarnt’s charge with a deft parry, his steel sword ringing against the wooden blade. Despite the obvious difference in skill and experience, Gundrik couldn’t help but be impressed by the boy’s agility and raw, instinctive fighting style. It lacked finesse, but there was an undeniable spark to Mixarnt’s attacks—a relentless drive that kept him moving, striking, and adapting. With a swift kick, Gundrik sent Mixarnt stumbling back, but the young adventurer recovered quickly, his grin never faltering. He launched himself at Gundrik once more, his wooden sword swinging in a flurry of strikes. The wooden blade scraped against Gundrik’s leather armor as Mixarnt sought to exploit any opening, his movements unpredictable and full of energy.

The crowd watched in rapt attention, murmurs of amazement and disbelief rising among them. Even Edward and Althea, seasoned warriors themselves, were taken aback by Mixarnt’s tenacity and unorthodox technique. "He’s... actually holding his own," Edward muttered, his arms crossed as he observed the duel. Althea nodded, her eyes gleaming with interest. "He’s raw, but there’s something there. A natural talent, perhaps."

Gundrik, however, remained focused, his years of combat experience guiding his responses. He began to adapt to Mixarnt’s frenetic pace, his movements slowing and becoming more deliberate. Each parry and counter was calculated, designed to test the boy’s limits while keeping him at bay.

Mixarnt, undeterred by Gundrik’s adjustments, continued to press the attack. His wooden sword whirled through the air, striking with surprising speed and precision. Though his technique was unrefined, his instincts were sharp, and he managed to land a few glancing blows on Gundrik’s armor.

The crowd cheered and gasped with each exchange, their earlier skepticism replaced by genuine admiration. "Go, Mixarnt!" someone shouted. "Show him what you’ve got!"

Gundrik, despite his initial amusement, began to take the spar more seriously. He recognized the potential in Mixarnt’s raw talent and wanted to see just how far the boy could go. With a sudden burst of speed, he launched a counterattack, his steel sword flashing in the fading light.

Mixarnt dodged and weaved, his movements almost dance-like as he avoided Gundrik’s strikes. He countered with a quick jab of his wooden sword, the tip grazing Gundrik’s side. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch.

Gundrik stepped back, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all," he said, his tone filled with genuine respect. "You’ve got spirit, and that’s something no amount of training can teach."

Mixarnt, breathing heavily but still grinning, lowered his wooden sword. "Thanks, old man. You’re not so bad yourself."

The two started circling each other.

"Hmmm. His wooden sword never received any damage despite clashing with a steel sword. World Tree Wood, eh?" Gundrik thought to himself, a grin spreading across his face.

Mixarnt took a stance again and charged, this time calmer and no longer grinning. Each of his attacks was countered and parried, but Mixarnt remained composed. His earlier playfulness was gone as he fully acknowledged Gundrik's strength. Back when he faced Kaelzar, he had taken the fight too lightly, and it almost cost him his life. If Arthur and Elyssia hadn’t intervened, things could have ended badly. This time, he was determined not to underestimate his opponent. "Mana Wave!" Mixarnt shouted as he jumped back and unleashed a mana blast from his wooden sword. Gundrik, seeing this, grinned and wondered if he should also step up his game and unleash some of his own power. The boy's sudden display of magical prowess caught him off guard, but it only heightened the older man's excitement.

Mixarnt unleashed another mana wave, sending it racing after the first one. As they merged, the attack grew larger and more powerful. "Well now, looks like our little sparrer's got some tricks up his sleeve," Gundrik remarked, a mix of approval and amusement in his tone. Without hesitation, he raised his sword, its steel pulsing with a faint blue aura as he infused it with magic. With a single, effortless swing, he deflected the massive mana wave, dispersing it like a mere gust of wind. The sheer ease of his counter left the crowd in awe, erupting into cheers and murmurs of astonishment. Even Edward and Althea, both seasoned warriors, exchanged impressed glances at Gundrik’s overwhelming skill.

Mixarnt stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock. His Mana Wave had never been deflected before. It was different from a Radiant Wave—perhaps weaker in some ways—but he had always believed in its strength. Yet, Gundrik had swatted it aside as if it were nothing. He clenched his fists, the realization sinking in. This was the power of a Knight General. “Damn... I can’t believe you deflected that, old man!” he exclaimed, his voice caught between disbelief and admiration. In that moment, he understood—Gundrik, despite his age and retired status, was still a force to be reckoned with.

Gundrik chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the open space. "You’ve got potential, lad, but you’re not the only one who knows a thing or two about mana. Now, let’s see what else you’ve got."

As the spar continued, Gundrik decided it was time to up the ante. With a sudden burst of speed, he launched a counterattack, his sword glowing brighter as he channeled more mana into it. The force of his strike sent Mixarnt skidding back, but the young adventurer quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with determination.

"Not bad, old man," Mixarnt said, his voice steady despite the exertion. "But I’m not done yet!"

With that, he unleashed another Mana Wave, this time more powerful than the last. Gundrik, still grinning, met the attack head-on, his sword deflecting the energy blast with a resounding clang. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the area, causing the crowd to step back in awe.

Edward and Althea exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of pride and concern. "He’s holding his own against Gundrik," Althea said, her voice filled with admiration. "That’s no small feat."

Edward nodded, his arms crossed. "Aye, but Gundrik’s not even going all out. If he wanted to, he could end this in an instant. Sure, he doesn't have any flashy offensive moves, but he was known as The Shield of Aetherlight and only the current Sovereign blade got pass his defense."

As the spar reached its peak, Gundrik stepped back and lowered his sword. "Alright, lad, that’s enough for now," he said, his voice firm but approving. "You’ve got spirit, and you’re stronger than you look—"

"HOLD!" a sharp, irritated voice interrupted.

Turning to the source, they saw Knight General Sunshine, her expression strict and annoyed. She was Gundrik's daughter, and it was clear she wasn’t pleased.