Chapter 65
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Lack of Experience
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The makeshift arena didn't have many spectators, save for a few familiar faces.
Proper arenas had all been claimed by Bronze- and Silver-rank adventurers, so the only venue allowed for apprentice adventurers holding wooden plaques was this shabby one tucked away in a remote corner.
However, what truly matters in a match isn't the arena—it's the people doing the fighting.
Hector and I eyed each other warily, observing without end.
While I wielded a sword shorter than standard, Hector used a long one.
That said, it wasn't a typical sword—it was incredibly thin.
Perhaps even thinner than my razor-sharp blade.
It was the kind of sword that maximized cutting power at the expense of durability.
"...You're using a girly weapon."
"I won't fall for provocations!"
Hector laughed heartily in reply, but his eyes weren't smiling.
Under his analytical gaze, I sank into thought as well.
My frame was too small.
Naturally, that meant short arms and lacking strength.
And with a short weapon to boot, a head-on clash offered no chance of victory—so I slowly circled the arena's perimeter.
There was no sound.
"...No sound."
I didn't respond.
Human senses are intricately linked, complementing one another with exquisite precision.
If even one is deprived, problems arise no matter how sharp the rest.
And among them, the sense I could steal was hearing.
Sword pointed ahead, I moved slowly.
With no sound, he would have to track everything with his eyes alone.
I kicked off the ground and lunged, thrusting my blade.
Hector leaned back lightly to evade my strike, then swept his sword horizontally in retaliation.
The blade—far thinner than its length suggested—whipped like a snake in an instant, forcing me to yelp "Crazy!" and drop to my knees to dodge.
A chilling sensation as a few strands of hair were sliced away.
Biting my lip, I took one more step into his guard, twisted at the waist, and slashed wide.
It shredded Hector's clothes, but inflicted no further harm.
Hector retreated in haste, eyes wide with surprise, before breaking into a bright smile.
"...Sorry! Looks like I underestimated you."
"I'd prefer you keep underestimating me."
"After you've shown such skill? I can't do that!"
Fair enough.
My first move should have ended it by the second exchange at latest, but I'd failed.
Those facing me for the first time always let their guard down at the sight of my small stature.
That's how I won so easily.
But.
Since I'd failed, it would devolve into a pure contest of skill from here.
As expected, it was proving 'difficult.' I couldn't breeze through after all.
I tried to parry Hector's follow-up charge, but the blade bent sharply, lashing toward my body.
It was less a sword and more a whip.
I barely escaped unscathed by dropping my sword and rolling across the ground, but it left me chilled to the bone.
Having lost Grandpa's sword, I had no choice but to draw my sharp one anew.
He was undoubtedly skilled.
The gap compared to the pathetic thugs I'd faced in that underground tavern was obvious.
But that was all.
I didn't feel like I'd lose.
It had been made clear in that brief clash.
Lack of experience.
He never targeted vitals.
Was he simply not prepared to kill?
I could sense his blade tip hesitating despite several openings to finish me.
His skill was solid, but his mindset was all wrong.
I judged that scattering the sand in my pocket would make for an easy win.
However, since Shan and Marcel had chewed me out for that, I was saving it as a last resort.
I gripped the hilt hard enough to creak, then sheathed the blade.
I calmed my racing heart and steadied my breathing.
Hector's face twisted in confusion for a moment, but he soon pointed his sword at me warily, convinced I was about to do something.
It didn't matter.
He wouldn't be able to react the first time.
Crackle—the lightning tingling at my fingertips stiffened my muscles for an instant.
"...Hector."
"...Hm?"
"You won't die, right."
My lightning, even at maximum output, wasn't enough to kill a person.
So I could unleash it without worry.
My muscles heated up, veins stinging.
I took a step forward.
Sensing danger in that instant, Hector thrust his blade desperately.
The snaking sword finally targeted a vital—my throat—for the first time.
A chill ran through me.
If I didn't block, I'd die.
I was certain.
A clumsy block would let the whipping blade shred my body; no block, and my head would come off.
Thus, I chose not to block.
Perplexity clouded Hector's face as he realized I wasn't blocking.
Indeed, he lacked experience.
An adventurer's lot is to stake their life, a job worse than a bug's.
So why should I fight while sparing my life?
The blade reaching for my neck twisted due to Hector's naive aversion to killing, merely nicking my earlobe.
Blood trickled down, soaking my nape—but how many seconds until Hector's withdrawn sword struck again?
At least one.
Then I had won.
If he truly sought romance in the adventurer's life, his current skill paired with such naivety was poison.
I'd teach him that.
The sword drawn from its sheath cradled white lightning.
"It'll sting."
I bent low and dove deep into his guard.
Hector retreated as far as he could, his sword merely slicing air—but that was enough.
His technique might surpass mine, but my overall prowess was superior.
The lightning contained in the blade scattered silently in a brilliant flash; Hector's body trembled in fine spasms, his glaring eyes soaked in bewilderment.
No scream came.
He probably couldn't make a sound.
The smell of burning flesh wafted through the air.
But he'd be fine.
It might be a fortune beyond an adventurer's means, but as a young noble, treating burns would be simple enough.
To Hector, glaring at me from his knees, I offered faint consolation.
"If we'd fought fair, I'd have lost—but there's nothing more foolish in a fight than fairness. This time, I win."
No pangs of conscience struck; I could have won just by scattering sand, lightning or no.
Murmurs rose from the spectators.
The Silver-rank referee watching the judge's stand looked perplexed but declared my victory.
It was a victory met with utter silence, not a single clap—but I didn't care.
One of Hector's attendants burst into the arena, hoisted him up, and vanished somewhere.
With the stench of burning flesh heavy in the air, the burns must have been severe.
He'd need quick treatment, leaving no time to question me.
I left the arena.
I'd called out Hector's lack of experience, but it applied to me as well.
My earlobe, sliced by his sword tip, dangled loosely.
The stings from wounds across my body felt unpleasantly raw.
"Never imagined he'd have a weapon like that..."
Lucky it was lighter than Shan's axe and simpler than Marcel's spear.
For anyone facing it fresh, a clumsy block would end in their body being shredded—a horrific weapon.
"If Shan and Marcel hadn't warned me, I'd have ended up the same."
I shuddered and waited for the next match.
Bronze- and Silver-rank tournaments ran for a full week, but the apprentice one wrapped up the same day.
There were few entrants to begin with, and no one anticipated the apprentice event anyway.
Nay, more than a few wished they wouldn't hold an apprentice tournament at all.
It delayed the Bronze one, which came after, followed by Silver.
"Ellie! Knew you could do it!"
"Big Sis—!"
Startled by the sudden racket, I widened my eyes and turned toward the voices. The five roughnecks I'd scrapped with at the tavern were waving at me.
They were coarse types, but they knew how to accept defeat.
Some even called me 'Big Sis,' so with a sigh, I waved back. A few erupted in cheers, which was mortifying and embarrassing; my face flushed, and I fidgeted irritably from the shame.
"You guys bet on me again?"
"...W-Well, you need people around to place bets, right?"
"Yeah..."
True enough.
What kind of betting with no crowd?
Tsk—I clicked my tongue and glared at them.
"You lot not competing?"
Prelims should be underway by now, and they were all Bronze-rankers.
To my perfectly reasonable question, the bushy-bearded ones grinned like idiots and replied.
"...After losing to an apprentice Big Sis? What tournament for us? Heh heh."
"......Aigoo."
My self-esteem got a boost, but theirs was utterly shattered.
Well, on paper, I was a 13-year-old girl.
Losing to a 13-year-old apprentice was enough to crush anyone's pride, so I scratched my cheek awkwardly, unsure what to say.
I'd smashed their self-esteem, but it wasn't really my fault.
"...H-Hey, I'll buy the beer. Let's go."
I led the five rough-faced uncles to the tavern.
This was the best consolation I could offer...