Selection Match? Going All Out (5)
The match was decided because the kid's elemental magic proficiency turned out higher than expected. If that friend had known the kid's true skill, would the outcome have been different? No, it wouldn't have. What I'd taught the kid and the others wasn't specific magic techniques, but how to improvise and adapt to any situation. Even if the elemental synergy trick hadn't worked, the kid would've found another way to seize the momentum.
"I ended up losing, huh." The friend who'd just been on the training ground came down with an awkward smile.
"Losing? That's what happens when you act so relaxed?"
"I wasn't careless. I just lost because my own skills weren't enough."
"…"
The result of this match had less to do with skill and more to do with tactics. The strategy of creating an explosion by slamming ice into intense fire energy to steal the opponent's vision. Aside from that clever move, the hand-to-hand combat skills they'd shown were roughly equal. If the opponent had truly wanted to win, they should've made their decision the moment the kid started casting Ice Spear. They should've realized their vision would be taken away. That failure to anticipate it was the decisive mistake.
But the friend who'd been watching beside me seemed to have a different opinion. She shot a sharp remark at the friend who'd just finished the match.
"You were careless. If you'd steeled your resolve and sharpened all your senses, you could've blocked that rear ambush just fine. You—"
"Really? Haha… I'll be more careful next time, Davin."
"……You really can't say anything sincere, can you."
What kind of relationship was this? Just from a couple of exchanges, it was obvious their dynamic was more twisted than with the other friends. One was overly optimistic, the other negative. They were like oil and water, complete opposites. How did they even maintain this relationship?
…No need to get deeply involved. It was their problem to sort out. I had enough on my plate looking after the people around me—like encouraging the kid running up to me right now.
"Unni, how was I?"
"Your application of attribute magic was pretty impressive. You've improved a lot. …Haaam."
"Praise sticker?"
"That comes later. I'll decide after we spar whether to give you one or not."
"Got it!"
"Good work. Rest a bit until the next match."
The kid answered energetically and plopped down right beside me on the left. She looked so lively, without a trace of fatigue, like a child who'd just been playing around half-heartedly.
"Alright, next pair, get up here."
At the teacher's signal, the friend beside me and I stepped onto the stage.
"…"
With only the two of us standing there—aside from the teacher acting as referee—we inevitably had to face each other. I could see her expression twisting in real time. Hmm… how menacing.
"…Prepare yourself."
Was that a provocation? Not that I had any intention of falling for it.
"Everyone's wearing their defensive artifacts, correct?"
"Yes, we are."
"Yeah."
"Then the match begins now. Start!"
"I pour all my energy into my fist—transform!"
"Huaaam. Puhaam."
Do you know this? A veteran magical girl can transform with just a yawn. Chants are nothing but a luxury. I finished my transformation quickly and waited for my opponent. She was about a second slower than me. The moment a magical girl is most vulnerable is during transformation. A fast transformation is a skill in itself, so attacking during that window shouldn't be a problem… or is it? Was the rule that attacks are only allowed after transformation? I hadn't listened to the explanation properly, so I wasn't sure. Either way, my point was that even if it weren't a tournament-style rule, I would've waited for her transformation to finish.
The moment her transformation completed, she charged at me with cheerful steps and threw a punch. It seemed my earlier guess had been right. Apparently, attacking right after transforming was the current trend. Just as I lightly blocked it and prepared for a follow-up—
"Huh?"
She backed away, creating distance. It had seemed promising, so why did she retreat? When I stayed still, she approached again. I blocked lightly once more, and she pulled back again. If she was using punches with this kind of movement…
"An outboxer?"
Only then did I notice her bouncy feet. The tips of her toes were constantly moving, ready to spring at any moment. Classic outboxer style—hit and retreat, with quick footwork. When I deliberately showed an opening, an attack came immediately. I knocked her fist away with my beloved pipe-like staff.
Clang!
And just like that, she was already far away again. This process repeated several times. She'd attack, I'd deflect, and after being blocked, she'd step back. The pattern kept repeating. At first I let it go, but eventually I grew bored and let out a big yawn.
"I could block this with my eyes closed. Puhaaam."
The attacks were far too light. For an outboxer's unique fighting style, they lacked weight. Even when hitting and retreating, if there's a real opening, an outboxer should swing with full force. But even when I openly showed gaps, she only probed without ever attempting a decisive blow. This wasn't a twelve-round boxing match, after all.
In that case, I had to make the first move.
"Huuup."
With my mind made up, I took one step forward.
"…!"
Just one step, yet its weight was like ten thousand pounds. Swinging the weapon in my hand, I gave her some advice out of sheer frustration.
"Gathering information while pretending to be an outboxer is a bad idea, friend."
"Kugh!"
Staff and gauntlet collided. But the moment of contact was fleeting. I became a baseball batter and struck her hard.
Boom!
A much louder impact echoed through the training ground. I'd held back my strength, so she barely avoided being knocked out of the ring.
"…What was that just now?"
She fiddled with her gauntlet, clearly shaken. Her eyes wide with disbelief, she stared at me as if she couldn't comprehend what had just happened. I spoke to her.
"I'll give you one more chance. If you want to gauge your opponent's skill, you have to show your own. If you keep probing like that, it'll be over before you know it."
Meaning that if I'd swung seriously instead of holding back, it would've been an instant loss. Her expression hardened. My words must have struck a nerve. And as if to prove it, the tempo of her attacks sped up two or three levels compared to before.
Whoosh!
Her true fighting style finally came out. The friend before me wasn't an outboxer—she was a classic infighter. Jab. Hook. And straight. Mixed with various feints and off-beats, even just three types of attacks became diverse. The level of completion was impressive for a first-year. The mana infused in her gauntlets was sufficient too, so the power wasn't bad. Among them, her footwork was the most polished—it reminded me of someone familiar.
"Ah… So the teacher taught you that step."
She hadn't mastered it as perfectly as the teacher yet, but she'd grasped the basics to some extent. The footwork blending strength and flexibility was enough to steal an opponent's timing—if the opponent weren't me. Punches flew, I deflected them. The other fist came again, and I deflected that too. She kept changing things up to confuse me, but it was still at academy student level. As I blocked with my staff, I realized she wouldn't show anything more. Including the hidden trump card she was holding back. I was certain, but just in case, I decided to test her.
"You're not using your legs… saving them for later, huh?"
"…How did you know?"
"Experience?"
Her face stiffened completely, as if I'd hit the mark. She clearly hadn't expected to be found out. If she'd prioritized information gathering above all else, she shouldn't have fallen into this trap. It seemed she still didn't know that defending against hacking required more effort than hacking itself. I could've ended it here, but she'd probably be disappointed if I didn't show any of my own cards, so maybe I'd reveal a little.
"Hand-to-hand combat isn't my specialty, but I'll show you anyway. Even if it's a bit sloppy, bear with it."
The amount of mana scattered in the air… Hmm. This should be enough. My calculations weren't precise because I was sleepy, but experience told me it was sufficient. I settled the mana scattered from our earlier exchanges onto an orbital path. What formed was a single magic circle.
"…When did you create that magic technique? I didn't sense anything!"
"Don't get trapped by form, friend. What matters is the flow."
With a light breath, the magic circle shone toward my staff. A magic technique. The Xun (Wind) of the Primordial Eight Trigrams. Striking. The mystery of wind, simply striking with force. As the magic circle activated, my staff was imbued with power incomparable to before. The air in the training ground shifted in an instant, all converging toward me. This was how a martial arts faction used attribute magic. The staff overflowed with wind-infused energy. The moment I swung it, a typhoon-like force blasted forth and sent her flying out of the training ground.
A single strike decided the match. The teacher looked at me with that strange expression again as she declared the result.
"…Ring-out loss. The winner is Kim Jihye of Class 2."
That's one win down.
✮✮✮
The selection tournament was run as a round-robin. We had to face every other student once. The one with the highest total score would earn a ticket for a one-on-one match against the current four magical girls, but ties were possible. In case of a tie, the teachers would evaluate the match quality to determine the final winner. Of course, the teachers' opinions could split, in which case the tied students would have to rematch.
…This is why even numbers of participants make things difficult. Anyway, after the match against the Class 3 friend who used punches, my next opponent was—
"Hi? Nice to meet you."
"Huaaam… Same here."
A Class 4 student with an extremely positive personality. Her signature weapon was apparently dual swords.
"Were you originally a martial arts type?"
She asked after seeing me activate a magic technique earlier. It was a natural question, since I hadn't used magic techniques in front of others before. The criterion for distinguishing martial arts types was whether one could use magic techniques or not, so their pride in those techniques was immense. If someone claiming to be a pure magic type like me used them so easily, it would make the martial arts types uncomfortable—their pride would turn to nothing.
"No. I'm a pure magic type."
"Really? But you use magic techniques better than me, a martial arts type? That's amazing."
This opponent was unusual. She praised me without any hint of displeasure. She was on a completely different level from typical martial arts magical girls. Her mind was so open that I was momentarily taken aback.
"Uh… Yeah. Thanks."
"It might not be much, but I'll do my best in the match."
Watching her smile gently, I understood how she maintained her relationship with the friend she'd sparred against earlier.