26. Last Man Standing
26. Last Man Standing
"Professional wrestling. No matter how much you dress up a martial art with no practical combat value, a show is a show."
"The fuck did you say?"
[What is that guy saying?]
In my previous life too, the words "professional wrestling is a show" were taboo.
At least in Korea.
Hearing it in this world got me instantly riled up.
The announcer seemed riled up for a different, if similar, reason.
The nuance of those words was itself derogatory toward professional wrestling.
On top of that, that wasn't the only reason I was pissed.
At least in my previous life, it was true that professional wrestling had no practical combat value.
How the hell could you pick someone up and spike them like that in the middle of a fight?
But in this world, where mana existed and people could swing a person around by one arm like nunchaku, professional wrestling—if you just stripped away the showmanship—was undeniably a practical martial art.
A form verging on a death strike where you gave up your flank and drove their neck straight into the floor, but still.
No. I couldn't let this slide.
I'd have to show that bastard what real practical combat looked like.
When I ripped off my shirt and signaled that I was charging, the upperclassman responded by summoning armor around his body.
And a longsword materializing in his hand.
He looked like a knight-type fighter.
But he was mistaken about one thing.
'Wrestling's naturally strong against armored opponents.'
Knights didn't emphasize wrestling alongside swordsmanship for nothing.
Professional wrestling and wrestling were distinctly different, but the fact that it was effective against armor didn't change.
I ignored the reach difference with the longsword and rushed straight at him.
A thrust aimed at my chest came in.
"Whoops."
The tip grazed my chest as I barely dodged the attack.
For the first time since this match started, my charge was halted.
'Guess he had enough skill to back up that yapping.'
But in the end, he was still at a student level.
I charged him again, and this time he responded with a diagonal slash.
In response, I picked up a shield from a fallen Disciplinary Committee member and deflected the sword.
"Let's see you take this too."
With my free hand I tangled up his sword arm and locked on an arm lock.
The moment the arm lock sank in properly, I dropped the shield and struck the sword's grip to knock it away.
He resisted, trying not to release the sword, but how easy could that be with his arm bent at that angle?
The sword clattered away far off.
Now all he had left was his armor alone.
Armor itself could serve as a threatening weapon, but that was only when there was enough space.
Without releasing the arm I had entangled, I rotated and pressed our backs together, leaving him no way to make use of his armor's advantages.
From that position I grabbed his other arm too and bent forward at the waist, executing an ideal shoulder throw.
Thud!
The armored upperclassman landed headfirst and, flipped upside down, couldn't get up easily.
But it didn't end there.
If anything, the true practical combat value of professional wrestling started right then.
I adjusted my grip on him and threw him backward over my head. With another thud, his head struck the ground again.
Without giving him time to rise I grabbed his waist again and threw him backwards, and once more—thud—he crashed down on his back.
[A German Suplex and a Backdrop! How about that! You still calling professional wrestling a show?!]
Hell yeah.
Not easy to tell those two apart.
Decision made.
Later, I'd have to get that announcer into either Wrestle Kingdom or Magical Mari.
With that thought, I got ready for the finishing move.
Ordinarily, the upperclassman should already have been unable to fight, but a healer underclassman was casting healing magic from behind him, so he was still standing.
Though, sadly for him, maybe he'd have been happier if the heals weren't reaching him.
Of course, that's just an excuse.
Truth was I just wanted to beat on him more.
Professional wrestling is a show?
By those words, didn't that mean the show must go on?
For the finale, I hoisted him up high.
I flipped him over, draped him across my shoulders, and grabbed his legs.
Once I confirmed his neck was firmly locked against my shoulder, I launched high into the air.
[C-could it be...!!!]
Crash!
As my body hit the ground, the sound of something breaking came from inside the armor.
Crack!
Unable to withstand the shock bursting from inside, the armor fractured—
Crunch.
—and ultimately split apart.
[Muscle Busterrrrr!!!! I cannot hold back tears at this overwhelming performance!!!]
'No matter how thick the armor was, it couldn't withstand an impact from within.'
If anything, the added weight of the armor probably made it hurt more.
Just like that, the second-year upperclassman dissolved into particles and disappeared.
"Two left, huh?"
That left a first-year female rogue and a male healer.
She held her dagger awkwardly and stood as if shielding the guy.
Her sharp glare aimed at me.
Come to think of it, she was the girl who'd read the protest letter and left the club room last time.
"You! How dare you do this to the Disciplinary Committee!"
"What's the Disciplinary Committee, the Emperor? Is it sacred and inviolable?"
Maybe it was that to her, but you shouldn't force that on others.
Their defeat was already set anyway.
I'd taken out the other six in an instant, and aside from a slight graze on my chest and a bruised flank, my condition was no different from the start.
Perhaps the Disciplinary Committee still had its pride, because neither of them surrendered.
"I surrender!"
Retracted.
The priest was rational.
"Hey!"
"I thought it was weird from the start! Why'd you even pick a meaningless duel!"
The priest scurried out of the arena.
[Ah...]
Hey, announcer.
Snap out of it.
I know it's a shame that one of the techniques I was gonna show off is gone, but academy life doesn't end today.
The girl, who'd been staring vacantly in the direction the priest had vanished, shook her head and aimed her glare back at me.
"Shut up! A wretch like you who disturbs the academy's moral order shall not be forgiven by the Disciplinary Committee!"
She rushed at me with twin daggers held in reverse grips.
As I leisurely dodged her daggers, I considered my final performance.
Since the priest had vanished, the two techniques I should've shown were now compressed into a single slot.
In that case, shouldn't I make that one slot truly spectacular?
A Pile Driver?
No go.
The opponent happened to be a girl, and at the end her ass and my face would end up in a mortifying face-to-face situation.
Plus, I'd used the Pile Driver way too much today.
But hitting her with a fist would kill the excitement, wouldn't it.
I pondered for a moment, then remembered something.
Right. I hadn't shown that one today.
After briefly feeling her out, the moment a dagger came straight for my chest I stopped dodging and stood rooted on the spot, pounding my chest hard.
Amid the drum-like sound dominating the arena, her dagger aimed at my heart.
Boom-boom!
Clang!
But the sight produced as chest muscle met blade defied common sense.
On the contrary, the dagger itself shattered.
This was originally a technique called Drumming, used by a gorilla beastkin wrestler—a counter that made the attacker who struck the chest hurt instead.
I wasn't a gorilla, but by concentrating mana in my chest I could produce a similar effect.
While she was staring vacantly at her broken dagger, I kicked her in the stomach with moderate force.
Her waist naturally folded forward from the pain.
I hooked an arm beneath her armpit, where her body had bent into an L-shape, and locked her upper body in place.
In that very posture, as if driving a stake, I raised my free hand high and extended three fingers.
The announcer, catching on to what I was about to do, added the call.
[3!]
[2!]
[1!]
I dropped my weight onto her bent-over form as if mounting her.
With her arms locked and no way to break her fall, her forehead collided straight into the ground.
[Pedigree!!]
And she too turned into particles of light and vanished from the arena.
Alone now in the arena, I spread both arms wide in a victory pose and slowly circled around.
Before I knew it, I'd become the main character.
[Allen Price! Single-handedly defeating eight foes! Last Man Standing! He seizes the victory!!]
Amid the crowd's applause, I thought to myself.
'Yeah. This was why I did professional wrestling.'
.
.
.
Ah, right. This was a duel.
*
After the duel-like match ended.
I was in the Disciplinary Committee office.
Not because I was in trouble, but because I had to discuss future compensation with the Disciplinary Committee chair.
"My apologies. I believed it was a rampage by the first-year cadets, but I never imagined that a department head who should've restrained them was involved as well."
The Disciplinary Committee had several subordinate departments.
Morals Enforcement Department, Public Order Maintenance Department, and so on.
Among them, the second-year who'd fought me this time was the head of the External Affairs Department.
"Well, kids that age are like that. Can't expect a person to automatically be more mature just because there's a one-year difference, can you."
The Head of the Disciplinary Committee shot me a look that said who are you to talk, but at least in this incident, I thought I'd handled it more maturely.
You don't like it? Fight me and win, then.
He let out a sigh deep enough to cave in the ground and slid over a contract with only the compensation section left blank.
"It's informal, but first, please tell me what you wish for, and the Disciplinary Committee will accommodate you as much as possible."
If it were just a rampage by first-year cadets, that'd be one thing, but the moment a department head was involved, this was no longer something that could be passed off as a personal matter.
At least, it had escalated to a scale where the Head of the Disciplinary Committee had to apologize as the representative and the department had to provide its own compensation.
But the Head's proposal didn't particularly appeal to me.
Even though I'd borrowed the format of a duel, in a sense it had also been a method of forgiveness in accordance with Rictus's doctrine.
Forgiving wrongdoing through the play called professional wrestling.
So according to my cult's doctrine, I'd already forgiven them a long time ago.
By extension, I didn't really hold any lingering resentment toward the Disciplinary Committee.
Financial compensation?
I could state with certainty that with my current wealth, if the Disciplinary Committee had stock, I could buy out half of it.
Whatever compensation they might offer didn't seem like it'd hold much value to me.
Then suddenly, one thing came to mind.
'This was exactly when Magical Mari needed a rival.'
"Is there something you have in mind?"
"Well, nothing too grandiose."
"Just let me borrow a few of your first-year members."
For the first time since I entered the room, the chair's pupils trembled.
*
"No! Why do I have to wear a dress like this?!"
"What's with this weird skin-tight bodysuit?!"
"Hell yeah! Rival magical girls and combat mooks acquired!"
"Fuck... this club is insane..."
"Give up. There is no salvation here."
Nikolai patted one of the Disciplinary Committee members on the shoulder.