The Martial Arts Tournament (2)
The northern edge of Brizra Town. A circular arena overflowing with spectators. Swordsmen. Mages. People of all classes were visible. Those confident in their own strength had gathered to warm up. The tournament would begin soon.
There were currently seventy participants in total. The first round was a survival match where every contestant entered the arena and fought until only sixteen remained. They were sizing each other up, watching for weakness, gauging strength, and probing for openings. Some had already huddled in the corners, quietly plotting. After all, while the tournament itself was an individual competition, forming a temporary alliance for the first round offered a clear advantage.
A strange tension hung in the air near the registration desk when—
“Hah…! Hah…!”
A girl came panting into the registration area. A new participant? Every eye turned toward her. Small stature. Delicate frame. She didn’t look like she could fight at all. And the fact that she was wearing a nun’s habit meant she clearly wasn’t a contestant. Most likely, she was one of the nuns assigned to treat the injured.
Just as everyone was about to lose interest in her—
“Has registration closed yet?”
The girl looked up at the clerk and asked. The desk was taller than she was, so she had to stand on her tiptoes. It was rather cute.
“There are still ten minutes left.”
“Thank goodness.”
The girl clapped her hands together.
“Then I’d like to register too.”
At the word “register,” every gaze snapped back to her.
“This is… for the martial arts tournament, you know…?”
“I know.”
The girl nodded boldly.
“Here you go.”
She handed over the application form she had already filled out.
“Huh…?”
Once the form was submitted, it was as good as approved. The clerk had no right to refuse it. There were no special requirements to enter the martial arts tournament. Age, gender, occupation—none of it mattered. Anyone could apply. There was no reason a little nun couldn’t participate.
“You’re really going to enter…?”
The clerk stood up and whispered to the girl.
“Yes.”
Was she stupid? Or just reckless? No matter how open participation was, she would surely surrender the moment the brutal atmosphere hit her. There were always a few kids like this—adventurous, curious, and foolishly brave. They’d enter the tournament, burst into tears, and leave. The martial tournament was no playground. It was real combat. You could stab someone with a blade. You could burn their arm off with magic.
“Think it over again, dear.”
The clerk tried to dissuade her. She was almost certainly going to be the first one eliminated. The clerk didn’t want to see such a pretty child get hurt.
“No matter how many times I think about it…”
The girl looked at the other participants and grinned.
“Why should I? I’m going to win anyway.”
It was a wide-area provocation. With a single sentence from the girl, the majority of the contestants immediately decided to teach this arrogant little nun a harsh lesson.
“Could I borrow a practice sword?”
Good heavens. She didn’t even have a weapon.
“I can lend you one, but…”
A practice sword was exactly that—only for practice. In real combat, it was garbage. The other participants’ gleaming weapons would clearly shatter a practice blade the moment they clashed with full force.
The clerk reluctantly handed the girl a practice sword. A one-handed blade. Her short stature made a two-handed sword impractical.
“Hmm… Not bad.”
The girl tested the grip a few times, then nodded in satisfaction.
“When does it start?”
“Soon.”
“I’ll be right back.”
The girl headed toward the exit. That was when—
“Hey! Little Sister!”
Someone called out to her. Realizing the voice was directed at her, the girl turned around. A group of men were drinking together in one corner. A mix of Gold and Silver-ranked adventurers. Among them, a large man carrying a massive double-bitted axe on his back grinned slyly and waved at her.
“Don’t run away now. You said you’re gonna win, right?”
The other men drinking with him burst into laughter. The rest of the participants snickered as well.
“Yes.”
With a calm reply, the girl left the waiting room.
I had snuck out of the convent and even finished registering. Now there was only one goal left: finish the tournament before Bertina found out. She might have already noticed I was gone, but I had prepared an excuse in advance.
“Let’s see, then…”
I pulled my robe over my head.
“Shall we find out how strong the young people these days are?”
I stepped into the circular arena. Loud cheers slammed into my eardrums. The participants were scattered across the field, all of them ready for battle. The turbulent waves of mana surged wildly. They were certainly full of vigor.
I gripped the practice sword I had borrowed from the registration desk. It hadn’t been properly maintained—rusty red patches were visible here and there. Still, it didn’t matter. A true artisan never blames their tools. That saying exists for a reason. For a Sword Saint, the type of sword doesn’t matter. Whether you have a sword at all is what counts. Of course, even without one, it’s not a big problem.
“Thank you for waiting!”
A magic-engineering loudspeaker floating above the arena boomed with a powerful voice. The world really has improved. Back in my day, even with a loudspeaker you could only hear muffled muttering. Now the voice comes through crystal clear. It makes me realize all over again that I really did die and the world moved on without me.
“There are seventy-one participants in this year’s tournament!”
Last year there had been fifty, I heard. This time, the prize had drawn even more contestants. The Growth Elixir. For anyone who wanted to become stronger, it was a dream potion. Simply drinking it permanently doubled your mana and physical strength. I would win the tournament and take the prize while I was at it. I already considered myself strong, but there was no harm in becoming even stronger, right?
“The first round will be a survival match! Participants, please fight each other until only sixteen remain—until death, or right before it!”
At the word “death,” the arena’s excitement flared even hotter. People loved stimulation. Even though they would turn ice-cold when faced with actual death.
Anyway. It looked like the match was about to begin. I rolled my eyes and lightly scanned my surroundings. Some contestants were receiving cheers from the crowd, while others clearly possessed real skill. And then…
That bastard has been staring at me since earlier?
The hulking man who had smirked and mocked me in the waiting room was waving at me again. No way. Does he have a thing for little girls? That’s a crime, you idiot.
“Then! We shall now begin! The martial arts tournament!!”
The spectators’ roars shook the entire arena.
The match had started. The crowd was already predicting who would win this year’s tournament.
He was the only Platinum-ranked adventurer among the participants. In terms of pure combat ability, he was objectively the strongest. A rank capable of clearing most dungeons solo.
The finger pointed toward a man gripping a massive double-bitted axe with both hands. He was a giant over two meters tall. The Giant of the Axe, Hawkran. His adventurer rank was Silver—lower than Platinum—but he had once been a Platinum adventurer himself. He had been expelled from the Adventurers’ Union after trying to assault a female party member and then beating three men half to death when they tried to stop him. Now, after greasing some palms, he had snuck back into the Union and was lazily coasting at Silver rank.
Considering his raw power and cruelty, Hawkran had one of the highest chances of winning.
A small child stood near the arena entrance. It was hard to tell if they were a boy or a girl because their face was hidden beneath a deep hood. But the long hair falling to their chest suggested it was a girl.
They offered a silent prayer for the girl’s soul. Whatever happened to her was her own decision and her own responsibility.
“We shall now begin!!”
The martial arts tournament had officially started. As soon as the signal rang out, the participants began moving busily, charging at opponents they had already marked.
“As expected…!”
Hawkran kicked off the ground. Thud! The earth sank beneath his foot as he charged toward the girl like a wild boar. Just getting hit by that charge would crush a body flat.
—Krrrrrk!!
The sound of the axe blade scraping across the ground resembled the growl of a beast. He was huge, yet surprisingly fast. That girl probably had no idea what was coming and would suffer a gruesome fate. Everyone was thinking exactly that—when the girl leaped into the air.
Her robe fluttered like butterfly wings. Hawkran passed right beneath her. With a single light jump, she had dodged the charge. While floating in midair, the girl spun her body and slowly swung the rusty sword.
It looked slow. Unmistakably slow. Or so it seemed.
The flat of the girl’s blade struck the crown of Hawkran’s head.
—Tap.
It was a light tap. Hawkran touched his head and laughed.
“Oh? Pretty quick, aren’t you? How far do you think you can ru—”
Hawkran’s eyes slowly rolled back.
—Thud!!
The giant collapsed backward. The girl clicked her tongue at the sight.
“How disappointing.”
The arena fell deathly silent in an instant. The top favorite to win had been taken down by a girl half his size. In a single strike.
“Too weak.”
The girl let out a long sigh. “Ugh.”