The Substitute Driver is Rampaging (5)
The opponent was strong. She commanded a massive force within this arena, and her underlings feared her retaliation more than death at my hands, so much so that they faced me with resolve to die. Empire Swordsmanship?
Rookies in the first playthrough wouldn't know it, but as a regressor, I thrust my rapier forward into the proper stance.
So she's an imperial knight.
One piece of info only a regressor like me could know. Tutorial candidates would learn it later, but from that stance alone, I'd grasped one clear fact. The Empire selected knights purely on merit. Even if she'd washed up here and been used like a rag, as long as her core hadn't completely eroded, she was still quality goods—even if rotten, a bonito worth pickling.
Clang! I parried her charging rapier with my spear, creating distance.
Clearly, my weapon had the longer reach, but the pressure from her thrusting rapier was no joke. The gap was closing. Partly because I was backing away, but the actual distance between our weapons was shrinking too.
Scrape, scrape!
Just before the spearhead clashed, Helma whipped her rapier in a quick slash. In that brief instant, the spear shaft started slicing off from the tip.
"Impressive enough to make noise, but not against me, it seems?"
We'd barely clashed weapons a few times, yet her face was full of leisure. With a crunching sound, the spearhead hit the ground, and I kicked up a fallen dagger, snatching it from the air.
"Think that'll do? It's one of my minions'."
"We'll see."
"Not so cocky now?"
Despite armor that looked heavy even to move in, Helma pressed me with light, nimble steps.
Clang, clang!
I gripped the dagger short and deflected her rapier. Precisely catching the tip that dove in with pure thrusts, I retreated. Pinned against the arena wall at the edge.
Helma smirked at me, then kicked off the ground and lunged.
To thrust straight in—
No chance.
Her opponent was a woman worn down in this very arena. She'd faced countless foes using the terrain here. Even indirectly, watching others fight.
So.
Not a thrust.
It looked like one, but with a slight wrist flick, she aimed for—
My shoulder!
Claaang!
The rapier grazed my dagger's blade as it extended toward my shoulder and shot upward. A hair more sideways, and my cheek would've been pierced.
"Oh ho. Not using the wall?"
Clang!
"Usually, folks lure it in to embed the rapier in the wall!"
"If that worked, you'd have been monster chow ages ago."
"You know your stuff! But now that you're there, what next?!"
I'd blocked the attack, but counter chances weren't coming.
"Too busy defending!"
True enough, I was scrambling to fend off her onslaught. I'd dodged the sure-kill blow, but every follow-up targeted my vitals precisely.
Even—
"Kuh?!"
"Look at that. Balls that precious?"
Her blade aimed at my groin too. I managed to thrust my dagger down to block, but my thigh got grazed by the rapier.
"You fucking bitch."
"Hilarious. Think I'd hesitate to skewer your dick?"
Taat! I leaped back quick, widening the gap.
A burning thigh leaked thick blood scent, but not enough to hobble me yet.
"You've caused more than a little damage. Four of our top fighters—guys who knew their blades—dead by your hand."
"Can't you see the corpses scattered around?"
"Just the blade experts. The rest weren't quite that level."
Helma rested a hand on her hip, glancing at the crowd.
"Guess it's time for a reorganization. You've wiped out all the execs, so who to promote up?"
"Think you'll have time for that?"
"Huh?"
"Talking like there's a next round. Ridiculous."
I gripped one dagger reverse in my off-hand. The other hand snatched another from the floor.
Was my blood boiling from her skill exceeding expectations? The shock from dropping the hammer was fading, and strength properly returned to my wrist as I spun the daggers lightly.
"No next for you."
"All talk. Could take down the Demon King too, huh?"
"Planning to."
Everyone's goal as a hero. Other candidates might think I was bluffing to win the mind game against Helma, but I meant it.
"Can't have the Demon King's killer fall here, right?"
"Big talk."
"Keep going and see if it's bluff or not. Sorry, but my 'adjustment' is over."
Helma's eyes narrowed. She resumed the imperial stance, charging with sharper momentum than before.
Claang!
Half a beat slower.
"Ugh?!"
The instant I swung my dagger a touch late, Helma pulled her rapier back.
"What...?! How suddenly—?!"
"Nothing special."
Just recalibration done. It rarely synced properly against weaklings, but a strong foe like her triggered it.
"Not telling you shit."
A mind-body issue. My reason and psyche were a 10-year veteran's, but this body was a fresh-out-of-military early-20s college kid.
The gap between flesh and mind was finally aligning. I'd been forced to match the body since it lagged behind consciousness—but
Claaang!
"Ugh?!"
I deflected Helma's silent thrust, scraping past the finger guard and slamming with force.
"This...!"
Helma reeled back big. She recovered her rapier to thrust again.
My eyes tracked the blade's path. A demon using rapier flashed in mind—one targeting shoulder, thigh, flank, nape all at once.
Eyes read how to swing the dagger against attacks at range, but body couldn't keep up.
So, simplify.
My movement range was limited; foe wasn't some Demon King exec monster.
Claaaang!
"Ngh...?! How?!"
"How? Watched and blocked."
Unless a rapier master who could retarget with one wrist twist, just position the blade to deflect toward her aim.
Clangclang!
I swung the other dagger forward. Didn't cut flesh, but Helma freaked and leaped back huge.
"You crazy fuck!!"
Just scraped her armor, yet she raged harder than before.
"How dare you slash a woman's face...!"
"Who was just trying to stab my fucking dick with that rapier? Can't nick your face?!"
This wasn't honorable knightly duel or pure skill match against a demon. It was kill-or-be-killed survival.
Backstory later; win and live was key.
"You can't beat me anyway."
"You...!"
"Some knight who can't even use mana."
"!!"
Helma's face twisted wildly. Her spear-wielding minions gaped in shock, like I'd touched taboo.
"Knights I knew used auras, channeled mana into swords, all that."
Said for Helma's ears, but really for others. Chekhov watched above, but higher still, for the listener above her.
"Fight like a knight—channel mana into that sword. Oh, can't? Tough luck then."
"...Fine."
Helma reset her stance. Unlike before, rapier forward like a fencer, torso low to thrust.
"Fuck speed and all, I'll punch a hole in that heart."
Killing intent burned. Murky brownish haze rose from her body, mana thick with malice. So tainted, not even "worn black"—just filthy.
It's over.
The moment she tried mana, I sensed victory. Just endure some pain, seize the win.
"You—"
"Die!"
Before I spoke, Helma lunged.
"!!"
Speed incomparable to before. The flash-thrust was beyond sword-deflect range. For this body.
I see it.
Eyes read the rapier's angle. But body couldn't fully evade.
Then, quick—reverse grip the dagger. Twist body max as possible.
Puuk!
"!!"
Rapier pierced shoulder. Barely missed heart, razor-sharp clean through from front to back near it.
"Th—"
Mana-boosted thrust. Tiny mana, but rapier pierced torso like an awl, harder and sharper.
Heart missed. Vital dodged—my turn.
Puk!
Thrust dagger. Both top-down into helm-chestplate joint gap. Perfect crevice.
Not deep, but both blades sank two finger joints in.
"Aaaargh!!"
"Drama queen."
Released dagger, palmed down hard to shove Helma back, then yanked my hand inward.
"Told you from the start. Wanna live? Suck my dick."
Her rapier impaled in me.
"You refused."
Thwack!
Still gripping it, so I smashed her wrist, forcing release.
"Over."
"N-no—"
Rapier dropped. Her hand reached, but I snatched it faster.
"Merc—"
Our eyes met. Death-sensed Helma pleaded with hers.
Past me—what would've answered? Those who begged you for life—how'd you treat them? Think I'd show mercy now?
....
"Bullshit."
I drove the rapier into staring Helma.
"Gotta live too."
To live, kill foes. That was it now.
Puuk.