Beating My Brother Without Using My Hands
"I'll farm you."
“Is your preparation coming along well?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Rizer paused while wiping sweat with a towel and smiled at the appearance of his mother, Lady Kalan. He might have been a considerable delinquent, but he was quick on the uptake. He knew exactly who he had to bow to and who he could toy with. And his mother was definitely someone he had to bow to.
A woman from a knight family with both outstanding status and ability. She possessed every qualification to become one of the mistresses of the Lichtenauer Ducal House and served as his powerful sponsor.
“Does the divine weapon sit well in your hand?”
“Yes, of course.”
In Rizer’s hand was the divine weapon Lady Kalan had procured for him, its white blade gleaming with pride. It had been extracted from a special ore vein, melted in the primordial flames, and hammered countless times by dwarven hands over many years. A divine weapon like this was not something just anyone could obtain, but Lady Kalan’s family had the influence to make it possible.
Rizer would be the only one among the siblings to bring a divine weapon to the sparring matches held before their father. The maternal families of his other brothers and sisters lacked the wealth to sponsor something so extravagant. Everything came down to having chosen the right mother.
“Do not let your guard down. The entrance exam is tomorrow. You must keep your tension taut until the very last second. Caution, and more caution. You must enter the Imperial Academy if you wish to be acknowledged by the family.”
“Haha! Of course, Mother! Don’t worry.”
“Take both your regular sword and the two divine weapons I provided. You never know which of the eight opponents you’ll face. Against a strong opponent, use a divine weapon. Against a weak one, win with an ordinary blade.”
“Understood, Mother. Though it won’t be eight opponents. It should be seven.”
At Rizer’s sneering tone, Lady Kalan matched it with a mocking smile of her own.
“You mean Asbel?”
“He’s been talking about growing stronger through hunting for two months now. He took a crossbow and explosives from the armory. How much stronger could that frail idiot possibly get in two months? He probably won’t even show his face at the training ground.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I trust you’ll handle things well. I’ll take my leave now.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Rizer bowed respectfully. Once Lady Kalan had disappeared, he burst into laughter.
“Ha. Fuck. Once I’m at the academy I won’t be able to beat that idiot anymore. The feeling of hitting him was pretty satisfying, too.”
His concern didn’t last long. At the academy he could simply find another pushover to play with. Asbel could stay home as a convenient stress-relief toy. Rizer was certain that he would be the most outstanding figure in tomorrow’s entrance exam.
The Imperial Academy entrance exam. As the Steel Empire’s premier educational institution, its standards were notoriously strict. However, descendants of renowned swordsmanship or magic families could bypass the exam entirely through a system called recommended admission, entering directly with their family’s endorsement.
Some criticized the recommended admission system as favoritism toward powerful houses, but those people simply didn’t understand its cruelty. If a recommended student proved less talented than those who entered normally, it wasn’t merely a personal embarrassment—it was a disgrace to the entire family. For that reason, the standards applied were far harsher than the regular exam, and the family head personally selected and recommended candidates. Failure or revealed inadequacy meant direct rebuke from the duke and a catastrophic loss of standing within the family. In short, they would be ostracized.
Pathetic fools. So easily scared.
That was why, among the eight candidates taking the test before the family head today, six looked extremely nervous. Their faces were tight with anxiety—wondering if they could properly display everything they had practiced, if they would earn their father’s recognition.
But Rizer alone stood confident. He knew his skill was the highest among them, and he had brought the divine weapon his mother had prepared. There was no one here he could lose to. So he was the only one calmly surveying his surroundings with a relaxed expression.
Asbel. That idiot bastard really didn’t show up.
Only seven people were present. Asbel hadn’t appeared at all. Rizer thought it was only natural. Why would he come here just to suffer humiliation?
As Rizer smiled arrogantly, a heavy voice rang out.
“Are you all gathered?”
Kaiser Lichtenauer entered the training ground, radiating dignity. He slowly counted the number of his children present, then sat down without another word.
“Five minutes remain until 3 p.m. Use the time for final preparations.”
“Yes, Father!”
Everyone checked their weapons one last time, adjusted their grips, and did light stretches to loosen their tension. Rizer, overflowing with confidence, did none of it. He simply stood tall, staring proudly at his father, Kaiser Lichtenauer. His bold gaze seemed to scream, I am the greatest. Watch me.
Yet Duke Kaiser merely received that gaze with an expressionless face.
“One minute left!”
“Everyone, line up.”
At the duke’s command, the seven candidates stepped forward and formed a line. The duke examined each face carefully from left to right before speaking.
“Where is Asbel?”
“It appears he gave up and didn’t come, Father.”
Rizer chuckled with a vile expression.
“Obviously he lacks the ability to fight, so he got scared and ran away with his tail between his—”
“Who’s running away?”
Suddenly Asbel’s voice came from directly behind Rizer. Everyone turned in surprise, and their eyes widened.
It was only natural. The massive Iron Lion’s Greatsword was floating behind Asbel’s back.
“Y-you… w-what is that…”
While Rizer stuttered in shock, Asbel walked forward and joined the line.
“My apologies, Father. I’m slightly late.”
It was a lie. Asbel had deliberately timed his arrival for the most dramatic moment. He wanted to leave the biggest possible impression on the duke.
The duke saw the calm confidence on Asbel’s face and smiled faintly.
“Since you arrived within the time limit, it doesn’t matter. Now then.”
All eight had gathered.
“We will now begin the entrance exam.”
The exam began with the duke making a light gesture. A knight affiliated with the family stepped forward carrying a wooden container.
“Young masters and young ladies, please draw a wooden plaque from the container.”
One by one they reached in and pulled out a plaque. Numbers were written on them. I had drawn number one. Rizer had drawn number three.
Once everyone held a plaque, the duke spoke.
“The person with the lowest number may choose their sparring opponent. Only four may enter the academy. There are eight applicants. We will hold four one-on-one matches, and from those I will select the qualified individuals. Asbel. You’re first. Who will you fight?”
At the duke’s question, I slowly stepped forward and looked at the other seven standing in line. Every face showed confusion. It was understandable. The family’s lifelong outcast—the one they had all treated like an idiot—was now staring at them with completely different eyes, the Iron Lion’s Greatsword floating behind his back.
There were a few who looked easy to beat, but my choice had been decided from the start.
“Number three. I will spar with my older brother Rizer.”
The strongest opponent. The one who would give the most experience when defeated. The one whose divine weapon I could also steal. From my perspective, Rizer was no different from a golden goblin.
“So be it. Everyone, clear the area.”
At the duke’s command, the others withdrew. Only Rizer and I remained at the center of the training ground.
Everyone watched me with open curiosity. They seemed to wonder why the weakest person among the eight had chosen to fight Rizer, the strongest.
Rizer must have felt those gazes. He chuckled, then drew an ordinary steel sword instead of the divine weapon at his waist. He judged that he could defeat someone like me without needing it. Pure arrogance.
“Your guts have grown quite a bit in two months. Not only did you dare show up here, you even picked me as your opponent?”
“Should I really make you come out? I heard that in Lichtenauer-style sparring, injuries during the match are fine—and even killing your opponent isn’t a problem.”
My provocation made Rizer’s face flush red instantly. A guy who had only ever beaten others and never taken a beating had no resistance to insults.
“This son of a bitch…”
“Did you come out here to fight with your mouth? Draw your sword and come at me.”
At my words, Rizer raised his blade with blazing eyes and pointed it at me.
“I’ll make you regret this, Asbel!!”
The moment the words left his mouth, Rizer charged at me with terrifying speed. His expression said he believed I couldn’t possibly react to his nimble movements.
But the situation refused to follow his expectations.
I had fought Rizer countless times before. He gave plenty of experience and I could steal a divine weapon for free. So if my ability allowed it, fighting him was the best choice. Thanks to that experience, I knew exactly what he was aiming for and what moves he would make.
“It’s all so obvious.”
The thrust aimed at my neck was a feint. He planned to twist the blade sharply at the last moment to pierce my heart. I snorted, caught the perfect distance and timing before he could finish the motion, and sent the Iron Lion’s Greatsword flying.
“Kek!”
With a ridiculous sound, Rizer was blasted backward by the flat of the blade. Hit by nearly a ton of iron, the impact was clearly massive. After staggering for a long moment, his face burned crimson with humiliation as he gripped his sword tightly.
“Stop fucking around!!!!”
He charged again. But he was flustered now—his movements were noticeably more desperate than before.
“Flustered, are we?”
I chuckled and launched the greatsword once more. I timed it perfectly as he tried to swing, positioning the blade at his legs. His foot caught, his stance collapsed, and he ended up sprawled face-down across the floating sword.
“Rizer. Don’t you want to fly through the sky?”
“Uwaaaaaagh!!!!”
Before he could answer, the greatsword shot straight up into the air. Rising nearly fifty meters, Rizer was so shocked and terrified that he dropped his sword and screamed at the top of his lungs while floating helplessly in midair.
“Y-you fucking—! P-put me down! Put me down right now!!!”
“As you command!”
The flat of the sword rotated ninety degrees around the hilt. Rizer, who had been lying on top of it, was now in danger of falling as it flipped over. He screamed and grabbed the blade with both hands, clinging desperately. The sword was designed primarily as a crushing blunt weapon, so the edge was extremely dull. Grabbing it wasn’t difficult, but fifty meters of empty air waited beneath his feet.
“Y-you fucking!!!!”
He was even wearing heavy armor. Falling from this height would cause serious injury even for someone who could handle mana and had trained in martial arts.
“Will you surrender, Rizer? Or should we start round two after a fifty-meter drop?”
“P-put this down! Put it down!!”
“Say you surrender and I’ll lower you slowly. How about it? Keep throwing a tantrum and I’ll drop you quickly. People call that falling, by the way.”
Rizer couldn’t answer. Was it his last shred of pride?
I shrugged as if I had no choice.
“Fine. Then I guess I’ll have to drop you. Get ready to kiss the grou—”
“I-I surrender!!! Surrender!!! Fuck!!! I surrender!!!”
His thunderous shout was loud enough for everyone in the training ground to hear clearly.
Only then did I smile brightly and slowly lower him to the ground. He gasped for breath as if his soul had left his body, panting violently.
I retrieved the greatsword and settled it behind my back, then walked over to Rizer and roughly tousled his hair.
“I’m going to the academy, so you stay home and train some more.”
After giving his head a refreshing smack, I walked over to the duke. Even the world-renowned duke seemed stunned by the fight—his eyes were wide. I bowed politely to him.
“That concludes my demonstration!”
The duke remained silent for a moment. But his next words were already decided.
“Asbel is the victor.”