A magical journey that begins at Hogwarts

Peter gripped the shield with his left hand, and Miraz's stomp caused excruciating pain in his left arm.

Miraz pressed his advantage, slashing downwards with his sword, forcing Peter to roll backwards to dodge the attacks.

After rolling around a few times, Peter advanced instead of retreating, raising his longsword to strike Miraz's shield while simultaneously tripping him.

The two of them got up at the same time, looking at each other warily, both panting and exhausted.

Just then, Edmund rushed over; he had already told Caspian to get ready.

"Does Your Majesty need to rest for a moment?" Miraz adopted the demeanor of an elder, his voice sounding strong and resonant, but his face was contorted beneath the mask, the wounds on his legs and back causing him unbearable pain.

“Five minutes,” Peter said, barely managing to stay upright, his arms starting to give way.

"three minutes."

The two dragged their weary bodies out of the arena. Pusuppi arranged the chairs, and Sopi put away his crossbow.

Miraz threw his helmet on the ground and glared at the general, saying fiercely, "I don't think you'll let this dangerous situation happen again."

The general nodded guiltily, then helped Miraz to a chair and bandaged his wounds.

Peter was also helped to sit down by Edmund; he only had an arm injury and was in slightly better condition than Miraz.

"How are you feeling?" Edmund asked worriedly.

"I think my shoulder is dislocated."

“I’ll do it. I’ve studied medicine too.” Aaron volunteered to examine Peter, carefully taking his left arm. “It might hurt a little.”

Click!

Peter cried out in pain, but his left arm no longer hurt as much as before.

"What will my family think if I die here?" Peter asked, looking at Edmund. "You've been helping me all this time, I never knew..."

"You're not dead yet, so don't rush to give your last words," Aaron said speechlessly. "Miraz is more seriously injured than you."

"I'm worried about what might happen."

“There’s no chance.” Aaron lifted his cloak, revealing a flintlock pistol clearly in their eyes.

“This…you have a fourth gun.” Edmund opened his mouth, then looked at Peter. “It seems your safety is really not a concern, but I still feel something is off.”

We should be upright people, right? Sniping someone in the shadows is...not very ethical.

Aaron's lips twitched. "From what you're saying, am I the villain?"

Then I'll leave and let your brother and Miraz have a life-or-death duel.

Oh, Peter, you should probably say your last words!

I don't think the general's crossbow is just for show; it's probably meant for you. I hope your brother, a decent man, can withstand his crossbow bolts."

"No, wait." Edmund quickly stopped Aaron, and said with an embarrassed smile, "It was just a joke, don't take it to heart."

Aaron rolled his eyes at Edmund with disdain, then took out a red medicine bottle and handed it to him.

Just as Edmund reached for the bottle, Aaron swiftly snatched it back, saying sarcastically, "I suppose the righteous King Edmund wants his elder brother to have a fair fight, right? Using drugs to heal is unfair to Miraz!"

"At a time like this, who cares about this?" Edmund said anxiously. "Give me the medicine right now, I was wrong just now, okay!"

Aaron didn't press him further and handed him the medicine bottle.

After Peter took a small sip, his injuries were completely healed.

"Go for it, King Peter!"

Your brother gave me a heads-up: I don't consider myself a villain, and I can't bring myself to shoot you in the back during a crisis.

So at most, I can shield you from the general's hidden arrows, but if you die in the actual duel, I... will mourn for you for a minute.

Peter paused for a moment, a hint of helplessness creeping into his gaze as he looked at Edmund.

Why can't you control your mouth?

Now, what was originally a sure win has become more uncertain.

Edmund gave an awkward laugh, speechless.

"By the way, as a respectable older brother, it's best not to hit someone's injured leg, otherwise it won't be honorable to win."

Upon hearing this, Peter glanced at the bandage on Miraz's right leg, a hint of hesitation flashing in his eyes, but he quickly regained his resolve.

"Are you... really that serious?" Edmund said, half-laughing and half-crying, reminding him while subtly mocking him.

Aaron patted him on the shoulder and said earnestly, "You're still young, and it's right for you to have a sense of justice."

But if you've had an experience like mine, encountering all sorts of insidious villains, you'll know that to deal with bad guys, you have to be even more cunning and treacherous than them.

I've gone up to prepare. The outcome of this duel is already clear, but the subsequent battles are hard to predict.

After saying that, Aaron turned and walked towards the bunker, where a heavy sniper rifle was waiting for him.

Three minutes passed quickly, and Peter and Miraz stood up from their seats.

This time, none of them wore helmets, trying to travel as light as possible.

Without exchanging any words, the two rushed at each other after stepping onto the ring.

Miraz struck first, swinging his sword with all his might from the start, catching Peter off guard, but he quickly recovered.

Aaron twisted his arm back, and he also drank Lucy's potion. Apart from being a little exhausted, his condition was far superior to Miraz's.

After a few rounds, he seized Miraz's sword, took it from him, and began his formal counterattack.

Having lost his weapon, Miraz could only raise his shield to defend himself.

Needless to say, the king's shield was of excellent quality; Peter's frenzied attacks were blocked by him, and he even managed to knock the sword out of Peter's hand.

The two engaged in close combat, with Miraz still holding a shield, giving him a slight advantage.

Miraz, his face contorted with rage, slammed his shield into Peter's face and, as Peter retreated, pressed his advantage, punching him again in the face.

Feeling slightly dizzy, Peter saw the black shield pressing down on him, and he immediately grabbed the edge of the shield and began to wrestle with Miraz.

After a brief standoff, Peter grabbed his shield, turned around, and flipped behind Miraz.

Miraz let out a scream after his left hand was twisted, and immediately used his free right hand to elbow Peter, knocking him back.

He threw Peter onto a rock, turned around, picked up his sword, and swung it down hard at Peter.

Peter dodged the first sword with a somersault, and blocked the second one with his wrist guard.

Seeing that Miraz was about to strike with his third sword, he immediately grabbed the sword that was about to be raised and punched Miraz in the chin.

boom!

Miraz staggered back a step.

Before he could create distance, Peter straightened up and punched him in the bandage on his right leg.

The intense pain instantly rendered Miraz unable to fight; his longsword slipped from his hand, and he collapsed to his knees.

“Pause,” Miraz said.

Peter remained unmoved, clenching his fist as if to strike.

Seeing this, Miraz immediately bent his other knee from the bottom of his heart, and his voice was more pleading, "Please stop."

"Now is not the time to show chivalry," Edmund warned from outside the ring.

The Narnias shouted for their king to act quickly and not hold back.

Peter struggled for a moment, then slowly lowered his right hand and turned to walk back to his seat.

Miraz watched his retreating figure, a fierce glint in his eyes, and grabbed the longsword from the ground as he stood up.

"Watch out!" Edmund cried.

Sensing danger from behind, Peter instinctively ducked to avoid the horizontal slash of the sword.

He turned around quickly, grabbed the longsword as Miraz thrust at him again, twisted it with both hands to disarm it, and then turned around and thrust the longsword out fiercely.

puff!

Miraz felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and opened his eyes wide in astonishment.

He never expected the sneak attack to fail, and the price of failure to be so severe—it cost him most of his life.

Peter drew his longsword, and Miraz felt another sharp pain in his side, collapsing to his knees.

He looked at Peter, who had raised his sword but hesitated to strike, and said coldly, "What's wrong, kid?"

Too timid to take action?

“I’m not the one who should kill you,” Peter replied, then looked at Caspian outside the ring.

Caspian immediately understood, took the longsword from Peter, and walked up to Miraz.

"Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps you are the rightful king of the Tanmo people," Miraz said sincerely, then closed his eyes and quietly awaited his death.

Looking at his father's killer, Caspian roared and stabbed down hard.

when!

The longsword plunged into the ground, and Miraz, hearing the sound, opened his eyes in a daze.

“I will never be like you,” Caspian said. “I don’t want your life, but I want to return Narnia to the Narnias.”

Furthermore, I must remind you that your throne is far from secure. Pusuppi and the others have been watching coldly from the sidelines, offering no assistance whatsoever.

After saying this, Caspian turned and left, and the victorious Narnias erupted in deafening cheers.

Pusup quickly walked over and helped Miraz, who was kneeling on the ground, to his feet. "My king."

"I'll settle accounts with you after all this is over." Miraz glared fiercely at the grinning Pusuppi. He wasn't stupid; even a fool couldn't have successfully murdered his brother and usurped the throne.

He had sensed something was wrong yesterday, and with Caspian's reminder, he was 100% certain that Pushupi coveted his throne, and that General Sopi and some of his generals had probably secretly joined his ranks.

Chapter 442 War on the Verge, Destroying Heavy Weapons

“There will be no more.” Pusup still wore a smile, but an arrow had already slipped from his sleeve and was embedded hard in Miraz’s back.

Ah!

Miraz cried out in pain, staggered forward a few steps, and fell to the ground in despair.