The Appointed Day (6)
<So you're truly going to face Benedict in a duel?>
It was the night before my scheduled bout with Benedict. Grandpa, who had been going over strategy with me, suddenly dropped that question.
'Why? Is there a problem with fighting him?'
Grandpa had a point. Learning through actual combat is only possible when the difference between two opponents isn't too vast.
Considering the gulf between Benedict and me, the only thing I could realistically take away from our duel was a visceral sense of just how monstrous that man truly was.
And yet, fully aware of that, I had requested this duel for two reasons.
One, to experience firsthand what heights a monster like Benedict had reached. Two, to show Benedict how much stronger I had become.
Once the second year at Soul Academy began, the main story would kick off again.
Right now, the evil god faction was staying quiet because I had screwed over the Evil God of Darkness and then blown up the one in Menesteil besides—but they were simply biding their time. No way in hell they'd give up on the Academy.
Not when something they absolutely must obtain was lying in wait there.
And in the course of stopping them, I would be throwing myself into dangers even greater than the ones I'd already survived. Perhaps—no, without a doubt—I'd be cheating death several more times.
From an outsider's perspective, I'd be committing what looked like suicide, over and over.
Each time, Benedict would burn up with worry. Every time I hurled myself into danger, he'd be thrashing through endless anxieties.
Because to him, I was nothing more than a fragile little daughter he had to protect.
So my plan was to use this duel to change that perception. I'd show him I was strong enough to carve my way through crises on my own, so that he could worry just a little less.
And, as a bonus, I wanted to make him panic-interfere in my life just a smidge less often.
<Hah. What an dishonest daughter you are.>
Hearing all of this, Grandpa let out an amused chuckle. His fond exasperation was plain in every syllable.
'If you've got it all figured out, then quit blabbering and get back to planning. I still don't see an answer here.'
<Yes, yes.>
What I'd asked of Benedict was nothing more than a light sparring match—but given who my opponent was, I hadn't slacked on my preparations.
I was convinced that anything short of a desperate, all-out effort would only feed his worry, so I hunted frantically for some way to land even a single blow.
I replayed Benedict's movements from Menesteil in my mind and hashed things out with Grandpa at length.
I sought advice from Forsell and the other knights.
And I sparred relentlessly, straining to sharpen my combat instincts to their very limit.
But the more I prepared, the clearer it became just how high above me Benedict really stood.
The knights of House Aln were strong enough to hold their own against me—barely. And this man simply gave an empty laugh, saying that even imagining himself beating them was a stretch.
'So the real problem is that my specs are hopelessly outclassed.'
<It can't be helped. Your father is a monster who belongs to the Mythological Age more than to this one.>
Just as I was mulling over the depressing certainty that, at this rate, I'd fail to land a single blow and get toyed with instead, a notification chime rang in my ears.
Quest Complete!
Looks like Heishan and the Second Queen met up and things went smoothly.
Well, Heishan hadn't seemed to think poorly of the Second Queen, and the Queen had radiated a desperate earnestness about seeking forgiveness, so it figured.
I'd have to ask Karia how exactly things unfolded once she got back.
Reward will be distributed!
Please select the stat to increase!
Watching the blue windows bloom one after another, I smiled. The reward had arrived at the moment I needed it most.
The +10 stat I'd just received wasn't merely a modest bump to my physical abilities.
The moment four of a character's stats each exceed 100, you're granted a skill.
That skill was called Superhuman Body, and it showered the character with all sorts of positive effects.
Increased stamina. Boosted damage dealt and reduced damage taken. A whole pile of other perks on top. Whether sooner or later, acquiring this skill was essential—which was why a quest chain tied to it existed in the game.
I had no idea how it would manifest in reality. But I knew for certain it would be a massive help against Benedict.
Which meant I had to grab this skill right now and spend the night adapting to the changes—no, wait. I was acutely aware that adapting to them was essential.
Are you sure you wish to increase Agility?
I couldn't bring myself to decide.
Why, you ask?
How am I supposed to help it when my pathetic little intelligence keeps nagging at the edges of my mind!
If I didn't raise Intelligence now, I'd stay a dunce for the rest of my life!
Cling to a ray of hope within impossibility? Or seize the chance to graduate from complete moron to slightly-less-of-a-moron? Anyone could see the scales were hopelessly tipped to one side, and yet I agonized on and on—until, at last, I chose Agility.
Bye-bye, my dim little Intelligence. Someday, I swear, I'll raise you all the way back up to a respectable level! Someday! I promise!
The instant I committed the reward to Agility, a pain of a severity that made the elixirs look like a gentle massage spread through my entire body.
Only then did I realize this reward was no different from downing an elixir. It forced my stats up and remade my body from the inside—of course it hurt, you idiot! Me! I didn't even think of that!?
Clutching the desk and grimly enduring the agony, a blue window appeared before my eyes.
Skill Superhuman Body has been granted!
That was the last thing I remembered.
I went straight out like a light.
By the time I woke, it was already morning, and I couldn't tell what, if anything, had changed.
There was nothing visible on the outside, and nothing I could feel either—no shift in my body's caliber, no strange new weight to my movements.
When I asked Grandpa and the face-con fox what had happened while I was out cold, all I got back was that I'd just lain there in a heap, the whole time.
At this rate, testing the skill's performance would require moving my body myself—but by the time I woke, the appointed hour of my duel with Benedict was practically breathing down my neck, so even that was off the table.
And so, after rushing through the most basic warm-ups, I found myself standing directly across from Benedict before I knew it.
"Both of you. Are you ready?"
At Forsell's question from the center of the training grounds, I nodded my head boldly, while Benedict stole a careful glance at me before lowering his chin.
"Then let the duel begin."
<Take it slow. Open with a probing exchange. First priority is gauging what's changed in your body...>
I bolted forward the instant Forsell took a single step back.
Grandpa unloaded a torrent of scolding at my flagrant disregard of his advice, and I ignored every word.
Benedict's wishy-washy dithering had simply gotten too irritating to keep playing nice through a leisurely bout.
Yes, I was weaker than Benedict. But weak compared to that monster, that's all! I wasn't so fragile that he needed to treat extending a single hand toward me like defusing a bomb!
Even watching me charge in, Benedict made no move to counter. He simply watched intently, curious what I'd do.
His near-dismissal lit a fire under me, and I committed everything to my very first strike.
The divinity suffusing my entire body gathered at the tip of my mace and blazed like a miniature sun.
The apex of divine enhancement. The single decisive blow taught to me by Grandpa, the man who had invented divine throwing arts.
As I unleashed the attack I had drilled with him in my dreams countless times, I finally understood how Superhuman Body operated in the real world.
The skill's function was simple. It just made the body work better.
It erased the inefficiencies that had always lived in my flesh and guided me toward economical, optimal movement—and that guiding trajectory felt deeply familiar.
The call of Iron Wall, which had been aiding me all this time, was much the same.
So I was able to integrate the skill's assistance on the fly.
"DIE, loser!♡"
Benedict simply stared, dazed, at the blow hurtling toward him at full power. Only when my mace was mere moments from caving in his skull did the corner of his mouth curl upward.
Then, drawing his shoulder back in a slow, unhurried arc, he swung his fist at my mace.
On its face it looked like a sloppy, half-hearted strike—but the power packed inside it was an entirely different story.
The fist of a monster who had transcended humanity was the equal of any human's ultimate technique.
CLAAAAANG!
The shockwave born where Benedict's fist met my ultimate blow sent dust scattering in every direction.
"You've grown stronger, Lucy."
Through the swirling haze, I saw blood running down Benedict's fist.
I saw his body, unable to fully absorb the impact, driven backward.
I saw my growth-forged strike land on Benedict for real.
"So this is what it means to be an Aln."
But my elation was short-lived. The moment Benedict's face filled with mirth, his entire presence transformed.
"...Uh. Papa? You do realize your eyes just went full beast-mode, right? I'm honestly scared you're about to pounce on me?!"
"But no longer. I have learned from you, and I have learned from your friends. It falls to this father to change as well."
Watching Benedict draw the magic within his body up to its very peak, I poured divinity through myself in the name of survival.
'Grandpa! Help me! Tell me how to stop that monster!'
<No.>
'Why not?!'
<You'd ignore anything I said anyway. Endure it on your own.>
'Grandpa, you're such a petty little—AAAAAH!'
"Here I come, Lucy."
"A pair of monsters, plain and simple."
As Arthur watched the duel between Benedict and Lucy from the edge of the training grounds, he gave an empty laugh, and Joy beside him asked without much thought.
"Which one?"
"Both."
Benedict, overwhelming his opponent through sheer physical prowess with neither armor nor weapon, or Lucy, who was smashed apart again and again inside a barrage of strikes that detonated with every swing, yet who rose to her feet every single time without fail—either of them more than earned the word 'monster' from where Arthur stood.
"Is the young lady truly that incredible? I can barely follow with my own eyes, so I honestly can't tell."
"I'll say this with certainty, Joy. Had you been standing where Lucy Aln stands, you would have been blown apart in less than a second."
"And what about you, Your Highness?"
"If it were me..."
Arthur couldn't bring himself to finish. How could anyone voice confidence while watching that fortress called Lucy Aln—a wall he had never once managed to breach—shatter with every single punch?
"...About two seconds."
"Barely any different, then."
Having demolished Arthur with a single remark, Joy turned to Frey, who was leaning forward as if ready to sprint onto the field at any moment, and asked:
"What about you, Lady Kent? How long do you think you could last?"
"..."
"Lady Kent?"
"...Don't know. But I do want to cross blades with her once."
"Same here. Even if I'm crushed to a pulp, I want to stand before her."
"Wouldn't it work if we just asked Lucy?"
"Hmm. It might. Count Aln could never possibly ignore a word from Lucy Aln."
As Arthur and Frey debated how best to persuade Lucy, Joy stared at the two of them with an expression of sheer disbelief.
How, having watched all of that with their own two eyes, could they think about wanting to fight?
I just don't get it. Not one bit.