Badronel Colosseum (1)
If there was one thing I truly lacked while spending the second semester at Soul Academy, it was proper combat experience.
Considering how many battles I've already been through, you might ask how I could possibly call myself inexperienced. But the truth was simple: I had never once faced an opponent on equal footing with me.
Before I entered the academy, everyone around me had been vastly stronger. The monstrous knights—even the me of today couldn't beat them—spared against me not by throwing everything they had into winning, but by focusing on teaching me instead.
Their guidance was invaluable for sharpening my combat logic, but it did nothing to develop my ability to scrap and claw for survival in a real fight.
Once I entered the academy, the situation flipped completely on its head. Suddenly I was surrounded by nothing but people weaker than me. Frey at least gave me the feeling of crossing blades with someone, but she was hardly a genuine threat.
Every now and then events would pop up—Nakrad, Adri, and the like—but those opponents were, if anything, far too strong for my level. So strong that fighting them head-on was simply impossible. If you can't hold out, you die on the spot—where exactly is there room for a scrappy back-and-forth in that?
Back then I'd been too busy just surviving, scraping out victories by exploiting game knowledge rather than actually accumulating meaningful combat experience. None of my other fights had strayed far from that pattern either.
For me, combat had always been one of three things: a stronger person humoring me with a lesson, me stomping someone weaker, or a desperate, no-room-to-breathe miracle win pulled off through every dirty trick I could think of. I had more than enough experience driving a dagger into an opponent's opening—and almost none of being the one stabbed.
'If only I'd taken this problem a little more seriously back when I fought that skeleton mimicking Garad, maybe I wouldn't have lost to the Second Queen.'
When the skeleton beneath the academy's old building had dismantled me, I'd felt my inexperience keenly. But I had turned a blind eye to my own weakness, citing more urgent matters. Truthfully, it wasn't a deliberate avoidance—facing an evil god, being hunted by the Church's inquisitors, then building a dungeon. With one thing after another piling up, I'd simply shoved the problem to the back burner and forgotten about it.
And thanks to that, I got thoroughly demolished by the Second Queen. Even thinking about it now, it was absurd. I'd been so certain of victory, and the whole match had flipped in a single instant.
"If you'd had just a few more months, the outcome would have been different."
'Well, yes, that's true.'
Having my shortcomings rubbed in my face yet again, I set about pondering how to actually fix them. If the problem had been something like low proficiency, shaky stats, or an insufficient level, I could have applied game knowledge to engineer a solution. But combat experience wasn't something game knowledge could touch.
"This is a matter that can only be built up, step by step, through real combat."
'Can't you just teach me a method instead? Surely the Hero's Party has some secret technique or other.'
"I can tell you to mind this, watch out for that—but the one who has to make a judgment call in the blink of an eye, in the chaos of battle, is you. If you cannot accumulate experience and let your skill bloom, every piece of advice I give is worthless."
After a long back-and-forth with Grandpa, the conclusion I reached was inevitable: there was no way around it but to fight. A lot.
I needed to face opponents on my level, or slightly above, and grow accustomed to trading blows and out-scrapping them in real time.
Having arrived at that judgment, I resolved to visit the colosseums of the Tersha Empire during this vacation. A place where countless strongmen gathered and fought for their lives was the perfect crucible for gaining real experience.
The Tersha Empire.
This barren land, crowned with desert, had grown up amid endless war. With not enough soil to farm—barely enough land for people to live on at all—the empire had barely scraped through its history by raiding grain and livestock from its neighbors, and even after finally seizing fertile territory through countless wars, it never stopped invading those around it. As though war itself were their sacred mission.
Because of this long history of bloodshed, the Tersha Empire revered warriors more than any other nation on the continent—an individual's martial power was tied directly to their authority and honor. And nowhere could you feel that fanatical worship of the strong more vividly than in the empire's colosseums.
In most arenas, you'd have commoners and slaves thrown into the ring while the nobles laughed and chatted and enjoyed the spectacle, right? Not here.
Among the nobles living here, complaining about commoners daring to enter the arena and show off their strength was practically a daily occurrence. The commoners, robbed of their chance, would watch the nobles preen and flex at each other, swearing that one day they would stand on that hallowed stage themselves.
In a country this unhinged, the participants would stop at nothing to win. As long as it wasn't dishonorable, they'd seize victory by any means necessary.
This was exactly why I'd chosen the Tersha Empire's colosseum as my training ground. There couldn't possibly be a better place for building real combat experience.
...Plus, winning a few matches here came with a pretty fat reward. Not that I strictly needed the money—but as a seasoned rotten-water veteran, my instincts demanded maximum efficiency. What could I do?
'Nooo! Absolutely not! Not this time! The Tersha Empire's colosseum?! I cannot send you to a pit crawling with those lunatics!'
Getting permission to go, however, was anything but smooth. Benedict flatly declared he would never throw me among the empire's fanatics.
At first, I assumed that a little pouting—like usual—would get him to relent. Not this time.
'Papa, I hate you♡'
'I'm never coming into your smelly room again♡ I won't even contact you through the crystal orb♡'
'Fine, I'll never say a single word to you for my whole~ entire life, just like you want♡'
Despite weathering that relentless barrage of accusations, Benedict stood his ground with iron resolve. His attitude was so hardline that I started wondering whether I should abandon efficiency and pick a different approach altogether—but the rotten-water nature carved into my very soul knew nothing of compromise.
Maximum efficiency is sitting right there, and you want me to give it up and settle for second best?! Not in this lifetime! Even if I had to sneak out, I was absolutely participating in the colosseum!
Having made up my mind, I threw every tactic I had at persuading Benedict—until a brilliant idea struck me. It wasn't the cold wind that stripped the traveler's cloak, it was the sun. The reason Benedict was panicking was that all I'd shown him was coldness. If I showed him warmth instead, he'd melt for certain.
'That's too bad♡ I really wanted to go traveling with you, Papa, but if you don't want to go, then I guess it can't be helped♡ I'm a good daughter, so I'll listen to you♡'
'...Travel? With me?'
'Ahh~♡ So disappointing~♡ I so wanted to show you the sight of me winning, Papa~♡ But if you say no, then fine♡ I'll just shut myself in my room and sulk about you~♡'
'W-wait. Just a moment, Lucy.'
My prediction landed with pinpoint accuracy. Benedict, hopeless daughter-doting fool that he was, fell head over heels for the word traveling with his daughter and caved on the colosseum entirely.
"...Lucy. Exactly when did you establish ties with House Newman?"
After arriving in the Tersha Empire via House Newman's teleportation array, Benedict stared blankly at the Newman family attendants bowing respectfully behind us before turning his head toward me.
'That's a secret.'
"Se~cret. It's your daughter's private life that a silly Papa doesn't need to know about."
Explaining that I'd become House Newman's benefactor by saving the life of their dying son was far too much hassle. I'd probably get an earful of lectures too. So, secret it is.
When I saw Benedict realize he had no way to press the matter and turn his head away, I struck first before he could open his mouth again.
'Just in case...'
"If you, silly Papa, try to worm the information out of Carl, I will never, ever forgive you."
"...Lucyyyy."
'And Carl...'
"Same goes for you, Incompetent Dog. The moment you let your mouth flap, I'll cut your tongue out. Just so we're clear."
"I shall guard this secret with my life."
With the secret now watertight, I headed toward the colosseum flanked by a deflated Benedict, a tight-lipped Carl, the Bald Knight assigned as escort, and Erin.
Walking down the street, one thing kept nagging at me. Why did everyone keep sneaking glances at Benedict and whispering among themselves?
If those eyes had been on me, I'd have assumed my Charm stat was going haywire again—but no, their gazes were locked firmly on Benedict.
"It's the Lord's renown, my lady."
Had he noticed my puzzlement? The Bald Knight spoke up, his voice brimming with pride.
"The people of the Tersha Empire worship strength. Surely it's only natural that they adore the Lord, who is always named whenever the continent's strongest are discussed."
Come to think of it, given Benedict's transcendent power, his popularity here made perfect sense. It was something like a famous celebrity suddenly appearing right in front of you, maybe?
"Good heavens. To lay eyes on Lord Alrn himself."
"...Do you suppose I could go up and speak to him?"
"I want to take one punch from those rock-hard fists."
"Don't. You'll end up in a grave."
"Why has he even come here? Don't tell me—to enter the colosseum?"
"...I might as well give up on entering this tournament."
"But one has to try! Who knows! Maybe a miracle will strike and I'll get to cross fists with him!"
The commotion centered on Benedict swelled larger and larger the farther we walked. Even I, long accustomed to being stared at, found it prickle against my skin.
...I knew this would happen. I should have just run away from home and come here alone. I came to build combat experience, not to be an exhibit.
The only mercy was that before the massive crowd could turn into an actual accident, the noble governing the territory made his appearance. Striding into the street with his house's knights in tow, he dispersed the crowd and then approached Benedict with a beaming smile.
"Good heavens! Count Alrn! To think you, who never leave your own territory, would truly come to this place!"
"Count Badronel. My apologies for the disturbance."
"Haha! Think nothing of it! The fault is mine for failing to make proper preparations despite receiving word in advance!"
"Still—"
"No matter! Introduce me instead to the lovely young lady beside you!"
"This is my daughter, Lucy Aln. I trust you have heard the name at least once."
"Of course! They say that after the young lady of House Kent, a new divine prodigy has been born to raise the kingdom's renown. How could I not know that name?"
Having cut smoothly into the conversation, Badronel spun toward me and greeted me with a wide, genial smile.
"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Alrn! I am Badronel Adila, lord of this territory!"
'Hello. My name is Lucy Aln.'
"Hello there, you puppy of a pathetic scrub count. I'm Lucy Aln. That groveling, tail-between-your-legs attitude of yours is honestly adorable."
The moment my greeting—faithfully rendered by the Mesugaki skill—left my lips, murder flared to life in Badronel's eyes.
Sigh. Yep. Here we go again.