Surviving is Proof of Strength (1)
It was summer. Not some poetic expression—real, sweltering summer.
"Hey, hey! Look at that woman next to the Sword Fairy. Sweating like that, frowning... doesn't she have this weirdly sexy vibe?"
"Ugh, check out that shirt clinging to her skin. One bite, and it'd be like peach juice dripping down—juicy!"
"Suck it up, today's a real feast for the eyes."
As beads of sweat began trailing down my jawline, plip-plop, whispers erupted from the stands.
……These bastards are out of their minds.
The way they leered, like I was some delicate beauty—it was so ridiculous I couldn't even scoff.
"Kh-hm! Ahem! Ahem!"
"……You seem to be enjoying yourself immensely."
"No, no. The territory folk's passionate—kh—support is just so heartwarming…… Ahem!"
Iris, hand over her mouth, shook with laughter like popcorn popping. The woman who was always an ice block was now openly mocking me?
The heat and skyrocketing discomfort index had my irritation boiling over.
Fine. Weather's hot as hell anyway—perfect.
I strode onto the arena platform and yanked my shirt up and off in one fluid motion.
"Wooooooah!!!"
The stands exploded in beastly cheers like they'd been waiting—
Then……
"……Huh?"
"Wh-what the hell? What are those lumpy, brutal chunks……?"
"Shit, it's a guy?! And what the fuck are those mangled scars?!"
"Aaaah! My eyes! Someone get that muscle monster outta here!!"
Three seconds flat, and the hype went ice cold.
The brutal, battle-hardened muscles I'd carved out over the past month of hellish training. Sure, the scars made it visually unappealing, but to me, they were badges of pride.
"We will now commence the duel between Lady Sara and Lord Sian. It ends immediately upon fatal injury or combat incapacity. Sword Energy and aura are strictly prohibited—"
Baltar nodded as I took the stage, and the head maid launched right into proceedings.
"Wh-what? Did she just say Lord Sian?"
"Nah… must be a namesake. No way someone's changed that much in a month."
I ignored the confused murmurs and locked eyes on Sara Brace across from me.
"Y-you……."
Her finger trembled as she pointed at me.
"You're really that fat slob?"
"……."
Instead of answering, I silently drew the sword from my waist.
Shring—.
The cool rasp of steel, gripped tight, stance angled low.
Something's been added, sure.
But still on plan. The packed stands could even be a plus.
Time to etch it in deep—solidify my position in the duchy.
The early-game villainous young lord Sian: tormented by the academy protagonist he bullied, stripped of his heir position by little sister Sara, exiled from the family, doomed to a lifetime as a beggar fugitive.
…Today, I'll change that fate.
The first turning point: this duel with Sara.
"Hey! Answer me! Why do you look just like me, you creepy fuck?!"
"Same blood, probably."
By my reckoning, Sara was at 3-star realm. I'd glimpsed it passing the training grounds during jogs.
I'd just hit 3-star entry myself, so purely on realm level, we started even—but no room for complacency. She'd grown up on premium elixirs, so her mana reserves and physical specs would outclass mine, plus years of accumulated experience……
-Too many stray thoughts, Young Master.
A clear voice rang in my head. I startled, whipping around.
-You've looked grim since earlier. What on earth are you worrying about?
Telepathy. Culprit: Iris, naturally, standing by Baltar at the judges' dais.
I shot her a puzzled glance.
If Iris can see right through the gap between me and Sara, why's she so chill?
Losing here would tarnish her own name after a month of teaching me.
I stared, brimming with questions. Iris met my eyes, tilting her head innocently.
That serene gaze nearly made me laugh in disbelief—
"Staring off like an idiot from the start? Classic fat slob."
Sharp killing intent sliced in.
Shit.
Too busy eye-fighting Iris, I'd missed the start signal.
Sara was already charging with ferocious momentum, her dao's tip hurtling at my nose.
At least brace for a broken wrist bone—
I gritted my teeth, stance unformed, barely blocking.
Chaaang—!
……Huh?
Couldn't even properly defend, yet her strike bounced off my sword. Sara stumbled back two steps, untangling her feet.
Against expectations, no recoil—my wrist was fine.
"Well, well, lucky bastard?"
She growled, masking her fluster. Ignoring the taunt, I blankly stared at my sword.
One clash, and I knew.
…Why is she so weak?
Not an insult—fundamentally, the power behind her blade was feeble. Despite premium pills, her mana quantity and control felt lacking.
Now I get why Iris looked at me so casually.
She'd clocked it since I smashed that dorm door.
"Let's see how long that luck holds!"
Sara charged again, radiating killing intent.
This time, no dodging or half-assed block.
Suuuuh—.
Eyes closed, I circulated energy through my dantian. The freshly repaired core thrummed powerfully, raw mana surging through meridians across my body.
Scarred muscles heated like a furnace.
"Closing your eyes mid-duel? Pathetic—"
Her sneer cut off.
Flash!
Kwaaaaaang────!!!
"Guh, hack……?!"
Just a downward chop. Her slender frame flew like a leaf in an explosion.
Vertical Slash.
Basic Three Talents Swordsmanship from Iris.
Sara hit the ground, sword slipping from numb fingers. She stared blankly at her empty hands, uncomprehending, face locked in shock.
Gulp.
The rowdy 10,000-strong stands fell into heavy silence. Only the sound of someone swallowing dryly pierced the stabbing quiet—no one dared speak.
"……What was that just now."
Baltar leaned forward from the judges' dais, eyes wide.
That heavy strike was flawless. Too straightforward, perhaps?
"Not just brute force."
"The basics are solid, aren't they?"
Iris murmured beside him.
"Worth teaching. Mana quantity alone marks a born genius, maybe."
"……."
"Why haven't you fixed his dantian until now?"
……Baltar's brow twisted complexly.
Meanwhile, on the arena.
"No way… H-how did you…? That was just a dumb vertical chop……."
Sara lifted her trembling head. Her gaze passed me, standing tall, to the judges' dais.
Patriarch Baltar peering down with interest, Iris impassive. And 10,000+ spectators gone deathly quiet, like doused in cold water.
Taking it all in, anxiety flickered in Sara's eyes.
N-no, this can't happen!
Deep humiliation surged. The family's top prodigy, pushed back in one clash by that worthless brother?
Impossible.
Trembling hands gripped her sword hilt.
Woooong—!
High-density mana condensed along her blade. A sharp golden energy extended along its path, physically expanding and rippling in sword form.
"S-Sword Energy?!"
The head maid by the dais paled, shouting.
"Lady Sara! Duel rules strictly ban aura and Sword Energy—mmph, mmph?!"
Her frantic attempt to halt cut off. Baltar snapped his fingers, silencing her with wordless magic.
Iris, arms crossed beside him, smirked.
"Worst parent ever."
"……Warning you—don't meddle too much. Unless you want your underground vault trespass publicized."
"……."
Ah, she knew?
Iris averted her gaze, coughing awkwardly.
Despite his growl.
"That brat's true depths…… how far do they go……."
Baltar's eyes gleamed with manic fascination.
"Raaaaagh—!!"
Sara charged wildly, golden Sword Energy raised high.
I couldn't hold back a laugh.
"……Laughing?"
She faltered mid-bloodthirsty sprint, baffled.
"Ah, sorry."
"Sorry for what…?"
No friendly status window popping up like in VR play.
Wasn't sure on my character's exact stats. Now sparring you gave me a rough gauge—explains Iris's nonchalance.
…Can't say that, huh?
I kept it brief.
"Thanks to you, it's crystal clear now."
"What is?!"
"Better to show than tell a hundred times."
This goddamn early-game extra villain I possessed had talent way more vicious than expected.
—The reason.
Wuuung—!
I readjusted my grip, exhaling softly. Mana in my dantian resonated with the sword, blazing in the same golden hue as Sara's—roughly 2-3 times larger.
"What the hell's happening up there?!"
"Can't see shit through that insane Sword Energy! Is Lady Sara okay?!"
"Why isn't the announcer stopping it?!"
Not innately superior to her. This body's specs were sorely lacking, inflexible compared to hers.
Just one difference……
Mental strength.
In Ariel's system, mana quantity and control scaled with mental strength.
……The pre-possession wastrel lord Sian.
A childhood stomach bug misdiagnosed by a quack, shattering his dantian.
Suddenly treated worse than vermin by his pragmatic father.
Despised as a loser by maids and even his blood sister.
And that's not all—political rumors, unsightly looks leading to academy-wide ostracism.
-Your boyfriend Lord Sian!
-D-don't tease…!
-…….
Environment that would've driven a normal person to suicide or madness long ago.
……Even if he veered into wastrel bullshit.
Surviving that hellish misfortune proved one thing: he was strong.