Transmigrated As The Perverted Young Master

On the other side of the castle, Soldiers left of the two duchies fought valiantly against the frenzied mobs. Though they cut the servants like a hot knife on butter, it was fairly difficult against the trained guards and soldiers.

Even if they somehow get through the soldiers, there were knights, the highest order of unnaturally trained soldiers. The regular soldiers are no match for the knights, less alone a frenzied and maddened one.

The normal people felt their hearts being ripped open as they continued to slay the mad people once they called comrades and friends. But they knew it had to be done or else more innocent lives would be slaughtered mercilessly.

A little away from the mobs, large craters formed on the ground with each passing second. Duke Zadkiel fought a maddened Duke Ferel. He looked bloody with a tint of craziness on his face.

Duke Zadkiel raised his sword, brandishing and readying it to strike down his friend.

He had tried to reason with his friend, to talk him down from his frenzied state, but nothing worked. Ferel was too far gone, lost in a violent rage that made him almost unrecognizable. Zadkiel knew that he couldn't kill his friend, but he also couldn't let him continue to fight and hurt innocent people.

As Duke Zadkiel and Duke Ferel circled each other, swords drawn, the sound of steel on steel rang through the air. Ferel swung his sword with wild abandon, striking the ground and creating large craters with each missed attack. Zadkiel focused on his defence, using his shield and armour to absorb the impact of each hit.

As Duke Zadkiel fought his frenzied friend, Duke Ferel, a tumultuous mix of emotions raged within him. He was torn between the loyalty he felt for his friend and the responsibility he had to protect the innocent people around them.

With each strike of Ferel's sword, Zadkiel's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. Memories of their shared past flooded his mind, of all the battles they had fought side by side. He couldn't believe that he was now fighting against the same person who had been his comrade in arms for so long.

But as the fight dragged on, Zadkiel's thoughts began to shift. Ferel's frenzied attacks were causing destruction and chaos,and Zadkiel couldn't ignore the innocent people caught in the midst of it all. He had a duty to protect them, even if it meant fighting against his friend.

He blocked each of Ferel's wild attacks with his shield, his mind racing as he searched for a way to subdue his friend without killing him. He knew that he had to find a way to bring Ferel back from his frenzied state, to reach the friend he knew was still in there somewhere.

At least he was glad his friend was not using his mana.

As Ferel's attacks grew more relentless and destructive, Zadkiel realized that he may not have a choice. He felt a sense of desperation rise within him as he struggled to keep Ferel at bay, knowing that the longer the fight dragged on, the more innocent people would be hurt.

Zadkiel's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, torn between his loyalty to his friend and his duty to protect those around him. He felt a sense of sadness and regret wash over him as he realized that there may not be a way to save Ferel without causing harm to others.

Despite the turmoil raging within him, Zadkiel fought on, his mind focused on the task at hand. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him, not when so many lives were at stake. He continued to block Ferel's frenzied attacks, his mind racing with thoughts of how to bring an end to the madness.

Finally, with a sudden burst of energy, Ferel launched a fierce attack, his sword swinging with wild abandon. Zadkiel tried to block the blow, but his shield was knocked aside, and Ferel's sword struck him in the arm. Pain shot through Zadkiel's body, and he stumbled back, almost losing his footing.

For a moment, the emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but Zadkiel pushed them down. He knew that he couldn't give in to his emotions, not when so much was at stake. He tightened his grip on his sword and continued to fight, his mind focused on bringing an end to the madness, no matter the cost.

Despite the injury, Zadkiel fought on. He knew that he couldn't let Ferel continue to hurt innocent people, even if it meant risking his own life.

Ferel continued his frenzied assault, but Zadkiel was able to land a few strikes of his own, drawing blood from his friend's arm and leg. The two dukes exchanged blows, each one taking a toll on their bodies.

As Duke Zadkiel circled his friend, he noticed Ferel's movements becoming slow and sluggish. He tightened his grip on his sword, suspicion rising within him. He had seen this tactic before; Ferel was trying to lower his guard.

Can he think now? Can he be brought back?

Zadkiel kept his eyes fixed on Ferel, waiting for the inevitable attack. Ferel's sword arm hung limply at his side, and his shoulders sagged, giving the impression of exhaustion. But Zadkiel knew better. He had trained with Ferel for years and knew the strength and endurance his friend possessed.

Suddenly, Ferel launched an attack, his sword arm snapping up with lightning speed. Zadkiel was ready, however, and parried the blow with ease. Ferel's attempt had been sloppy and half-hearted, and Zadkiel saw through the ruse.

Zadkiel decided to take advantage of the situation. He feinted a retreat, lowering his sword and pretending to stumble. Ferel took the bait, charging forward with a wild swing of his sword. Zadkiel sidestepped the attack and brought his sword down with a swift strike, piercing Ferel's armour and drawing blood.

Ferel stumbled back with a hateful snarl. Zadkiel didn't hesitate, pressing his advantage and launching a flurry of attacks. Ferel was still reeling from the surprise strike, and Zadkiel's strikes landed true, drawing more blood.

Duke Ferel fought back with renewed vigour, but Duke Zadkiel was relentless. He knew that he had to end the fight quickly before Ferel could regain his footing. The two dukes exchanged blows, each strike ringing out across the battlefield.

Finally, Zadkiel saw an opening. Ferel's defence had faltered, and Zadkiel seized the opportunity, driving his sword deep into Ferel's chest. Ferel let out a gasp of pain, and Zadkiel withdrew his sword, leaving Ferel to fall to the ground.

Zadkiel stood there, his sword in hand, watching as Ferel breathed his last. He felt a sense of sadness wash over him, but he knew that he had done what he had to do to protect the innocent people caught in the midst of the madness.

A rivulet of tear descended his face.

***

On the other side of the battlefield, Sir Duncan faced off against Sir Allister, the commander of Ferel's army. The two men circled each other, swords drawn.

Sir Duncan and Sir Allister clashed their swords together, the sound of metal ringing out across the field. Sir Allister's movements were wild and erratic, fueled by his reckless nature and uncontrollable mana. Sir Duncan, on the other hand, was calm and collected, his movements precise and calculated.

As Sir Allister charged forward with a yell, Sir Duncan sidestepped and swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming for Sir Allister's unprotected flank. Sir Allister managed to block the attack with his own sword, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling back a few steps.

Sir Allister bared his teeth in a feral snarl, the veins on his neck bulging with the intensity of his mana. He let out a primal yell and swung his sword in a wide arc, unleashing a wave of mana that crackled with red and black energy.

Sir Duncan was forced to jump back to avoid the blast, his eyes widening in surprise at the sheer power of Sir Allister's attack. He could feel the heat of the mana on his skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Sir Allister charged forward once again, his sword swinging wildly as he let out another roar of fury. Sir Duncan blocked each blow with ease, his own sword glowing with a soft blue light as he channelled his mana.

As the two warriors clashed, the mana around them crackled and sparked, the colours shifting and changing with each strike. Sir Duncan's blue mana clashed against Sir Allister's red and black, creating an explosion of colour and light.

The two warriors continued their dance of blades, each one pushing the other to their limits. Sir Allister's movements became more frenzied as the fight wore on, his mana spiralling out of control as he unleashed a flurry of wild, unpredictable strikes.

Sir Duncan remained calm and focused, his sword movements fluid and precise. He knew that he had the upper hand, but he also knew that one mistake could be his downfall.

As Sir Allister charged forward once again, Sir Duncan saw his opening. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent a burst of gold mana hurtling towards Sir Allister's sword.

The impact was like a thunderclap; the sound echoing across the field as Sir Allister's sword shattered into a thousand pieces. Sir Allister stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock and madness as he realized he was disarmed.

Sir Duncan raised his sword high, preparing to strike the final blow. But as he looked into Sir Allister's eyes, he saw a glimmer of something else there. Something that reminded him of the man that Sir Allister used to be.

With a flick of his sword, he created a potent rope of mana that glistened in the moonlight. Like it's already predetermined, the mana rope unleashed from the tip of Sir Duncan's sword coiled around Sir Allister, holding him tightly. He struggled to be free of his shackles, but sheer strength alone wasn't able to defeat the mighty commander's power.