Classless Awakening; My Dragon Is Legendary-Chapter 50: Weight Of A Name

Here’s the rewrite, keeping your opening and the sparring section up to the rib kick, then continuing in your voice:

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A month had passed since the death of Ivan.

After the duel, Dravania couldn’t be more proud of their golden boy.

They threw many festivals in his name and invited him to many events.

However, Derrick declined them all and remained in his manor.

He had claimed his prize, thirty percent of Ivan’s estate, wealth and weapon stores.

Despite all this, Derrick really wasn’t happy. How could he be when he hadn’t seen his father?

The king had vanished without a word, not even a personal congratulations.

Derrick spent his days by Royal Knight’s side, just watching him breathe while the Varyn infection slowly spread.

He knew staying beside Royal Knight all day wasn’t the best for him, which was why he decided to continue his training with Sir Thompson.

In the sparring grounds of Sir Thompson’s estate, both men were currently engaged in combat.

"Faster, Derrick." Sir Thompson taunted, dodging Derrick’s attacks by a single inch to build frustration.

Derrick didn’t answer with words, he pivoted his foot and drove all that force into a left hook.

The fist slammed into the open palm of Sir Thompson, who had been anticipating the attack.

Derrick didn’t stop, he launched a flurry of punches, each one backed by enough raw strength to level a wall.

Sir Thompson continued to evade each of his attacks, building up the frustration in Derrick even more.

Derrick saw an opening. He coiled his body and unleashed a spinning back kick, one designed to shatter ribs.

Sir Thompson simply caught his heel in the crook of his arm, completely unbothered.

Derrick didn’t panic. He used the caught leg and pushed off with his free foot.

[Air Step.]

His body shot upward, gaining altitude in the blink of an eye.

He hung there for a moment before dropping, driving his fist straight down toward Sir Thompson.

Sir Thompson stepped aside, and Derrick’s fist hit the stone ground, cracking it.

Derrick didn’t wait. He charged forward, but Sir Thompson was already moving.

One hand. Flat against Derrick’s chest. A single shove.

Derrick hit the floor hard, the air leaving his lungs all at once.

He coughed, caught his breath, and got back up.

"Not enough." Derrick growled.

He threw his hands up to block Sir Thompson’s incoming strike.

The force behind it shattered both forearms, but Derrick used the momentum to drive his knee forward.

It connected, but hitting Sir Thompson’s stomach was like hitting a wall.

The old man didn’t even flinch.

Sir Thompson grabbed Derrick by the waist, launched himself into the air with Derrick in his hands, and brought him down hard into the ground.

Derrick lay in the crater, his vision blurring, more bones broken.

Before he could move, Sir Thompson had him in a choke from behind.

"Surrender." Sir Thompson’s grip tightened.

Derrick’s face darkened, his body screaming, but the word wasn’t in his vocabulary.

"Never."

He twisted, slipped the grip, pushed off the floor and swung with everything he had left, his fist burning with dragon energy and Varyn.

Sir Thompson tapped his forearm with a single finger.

The energy died. The momentum died with it.

Sir Thompson’s leg came around and hit Derrick clean, sending him stumbling. A double palm strike followed, and Derrick slid across the floor until his back hit the wall.

He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath.

Sir Thompson let out a long laugh and reached down to help him up.

"You’re getting better, Derrick. Much better." Sir Thompson said, and he meant it.

Derrick took his hand, his breathing ragged. He looked at Sir Thompson, who hadn’t broken a sweat.

"You’re a monster." Derrick muttered.

Sir Thompson laughed and slapped him on the back. "Martial arts is hard, kid."

"It’s more than hard." Derrick sighed. "It’s exhausting."

"But it is necessary." Sir Thompson’s voice changed. The humor left it completely. "A sword can break, a weapon can be taken. But your body and your mind are the only things that truly belong to you. Many in this kingdom believe magic makes them untouchable. They are wrong. What you are doing here, this is the bridge between the physical and something greater."

Derrick nodded slowly. "You always know what to say to stop me from quitting."

A silence followed. Derrick looked up, and the expression on Sir Thompson’s face made something sink in his chest.

"I wish we could keep going, Derrick." Sir Thompson said quietly. "But our time in this hall has come to an end."

Derrick straightened. "What are you talking about?"

"Sit down." Sir Thompson motioned toward the bench. "There are things we need to discuss. Things you’ve been putting off."

Derrick sat, already feeling the weight of what was coming.

"The beasts you unleashed are still out there." Sir Thompson said plainly. "The barrier your father and Royal Knight erected is holding, but it won’t hold forever. Royal Knight is fading. The king is occupied. That problem belongs to you."

Derrick looked away. He knew. He had always known.

"I know." Derrick said. "That’s why I’m here training."

"My training can only take you so far." Sir Thompson leaned forward, his eyes steady.

"What’s coming requires something I can’t teach you. You need someone who understands what a grandmaster talent actually is, and what it can do."

Sir Thompson had thought about this for quite some time, and decided that it was necessary.

Derrick looked at him. "Who?"

"His name is Eldrion." Sir Thompson said. "He is old, older than most things in this kingdom. He carries the same grandmaster talent as you, and he is the only person alive who can show you how to use it properly."

Derrick stared at his hands for a moment, a little scared of what was to come.

The month of peace was over. The duel with Ivan was only the beginning, there was much more waiting for Derrick.