The Duel (3)
As she charged at Gladia, Sella calmly assessed the situation.
For some reason, she isn't drawing her sword.
The reason was a mystery. Still, if a warrior of that caliber refused to unsheathe her blade, there had to be a purpose behind it.
Without letting her guard drop, Sella kept her eyes locked on Gladia's every motion and drove a fist straight at her head.
It was a blow packed with the monstrous strength befitting a great chief's bloodline. Sella's fist tore through the air and hurtled toward Gladia.
Even with that strike bearing down on her, Gladia's expression never wavered.
With a soft whisper of movement, Gladia's body drifted back half a step—as natural and effortless as a willow branch swaying in the wind.
Sella's fist skimmed past the tip of Gladia's nose by a hair's breadth and smashed into the training ground floor instead.
Sella did not falter. She pressed the attack without pause.
I never thought one hit would end it anyway!
Using the rebound from the shattered floor, Sella twisted her waist and spun. Her thick leg cracked through the air like a whip, streaking toward Gladia's side. It was a kick powerful enough to rupture organs if it connected.
And yet—
A light tap.
"?!"
Shock burst from Sella's lips. Gladia had deflected the kick as if it were nothing.
The tip of her staff, already tracing a gentle arc, brushed the incoming strike. The trajectory of the attack twisted like a lie, and Sella's body lost its balance, spinning helplessly through the air like a top.
"Kh!"
But a warrior of the great plains would not fall from something so small. Even as she dropped, Sella forced a hand against the floor, caught her center, and sprang up again at once.
She poured on the assault with a beast's ferocity. Fists, knees, kicks, elbows, head—every part of her body became a weapon, a storm of continuous blows raining down on Gladia. The air split again and again with the shriek of tearing wind.
Yet not once did that merciless barrage touch Gladia's body.
It was like watching a perfectly choreographed play. Gladia moved as though she were dancing, slipping past every attack by half a step or a single pace, or using her staff to gently redirect the force outward with soft taps.
"Hah… hah… hah."
The onslaught that had seemed endless finally ended. Sella's shoulders heaved as she gasped for breath. Her body was soaked through with sweat, as if she had stood in a downpour.
It doesn't even graze her—it doesn't even touch her…!
Sella had known there was a gap in skill between them, but she had never imagined it would be this vast.
She hasn't even drawn her sword, and I'm the only one left panting and exhausted.
It felt like fighting a ghost. Gladia's eyes were closed, yet she read every attack as if she had eyes all over her body. Her movements were strange—fast, yes, but what she had just displayed was not something mere speed could achieve. She answered each of Sella's strikes a full beat early, as though she already knew exactly how Sella would move.
Sella steadied her breathing and lifted her head to look at Gladia.
Gladia stood exactly as she had at the start of the match, waiting patiently for Sella to recover. Not a single breath out of place. Calm. Serene. Most unnerving of all was that she had stood at the very center of Sella's barrage, and yet her maid uniform held not one speck of dust, not one crease.
Looking at that unruffled face, Sella felt her competitive fire blaze even hotter. Out of sheer stubbornness, she wanted to put surprise on that expression.
She made her decision and fully released the power she had been holding back.
A deep, resonant thrum filled the air. Patterns bloomed across Sella's dark brown skin and began to shine with light. This was the proof that she carried the blood of the Cradle Great Chief—the unique mystery passed down only to chosen warriors even on the harsh, barren plains of Cradle.
Mana erupted from the core of her heart and raced along the glowing patterns, flooding every inch of her body.
The sweat that had soaked her skin could not withstand the boiling fighting spirit and heat; it flash-evaporated into white steam. Within the fierce light and heat pouring from the patterns, Sella's muscles swelled larger and tighter, beast-like.
"KRAAAAAH!!"
With a battle cry, Sella shot toward Gladia at a speed on an entirely different level. Her fist streaked out to shatter Gladia's face—
In that instant, behind tightly shut eyelids, Gladia read the movement through her Mind's Eye and murmured softly,
"Mm. Well. That should be enough for the evasion practice."
At the same quiet murmur—
"Ghk!"
A sound like air being punched from lungs. Sella's eyes bulged. The tip of Gladia's staff had struck her solar plexus dead-on. All the speed of her charge turned into damage; her breath locked and she dropped into a dazed state.
"Kh… uugh…!"
As her body seized up, Gladia's voice drifted into her ear.
"Now then—shall we try a little offense as well?"
A sharp whoosh. A solid crack. Gladia recovered her staff with casual ease and smashed it up into Sella's jaw.
"Kh…!"
Sella's knees wobbled from the blow to the chin, and Gladia's assault only grew fiercer. It became a one-sided thrashing. The staff in Gladia's hand carved the air and hammered Sella's entire body without mercy.
Every single hit punched through muscle and sank damage into bone. The ferocity of the barrage was impossible to believe came from such slender arms.
How can arms that thin produce power like this?!
Under the rain of blows, Sella instinctively raised her arms to guard her vitals and clenched her teeth.
If this keeps up… I'll collapse without landing a single hit!
The gap in skill was overwhelming. Yet even in that desperate position, the warrior of the great plains did not lose her fighting spirit. Cornered at the edge of the cliff, her wild instincts flared and found a single opening.
Sacrifice flesh to take bone.
Reading the staff's incoming path, Sella deliberately dropped her guard for a split second and left her left side completely exposed.
A heavy impact.
"Ghhhk!"
As expected, Gladia's staff slammed mercilessly into Sella's side. Agony like cracking bone ripped through her whole body. But instead of retreating to lessen the shock, Sella forced her eyes wide and shoved her body roughly into Gladia. She locked her arms around that slender waist in a crushing hug.
If I can just get a joint lock from here…!
A triumphant smile rose as Sella clamped down and poured her full weight into the hold. Her frame was larger; if it came down to grappling, she had a real chance.
That was her calculation.
But—
"…?"
She would not go down.
Sella strained until every muscle screamed, trying to topple Gladia, yet Gladia stood as immovable as a tree whose roots drove deep into the earth.
"Your judgment was sound, but what a shame."
Gently, Gladia's hand settled over the arms that held her.
"You chose the wrong opponent for a contest of strength."
A sickening grind of bone.
"…?!"
Sella's eyes flew open in pure shock. The grip of Gladia's delicate fingers peeled Sella's arms—straining with every last ounce of power—off her body as if they weighed nothing. Stunned by the absurd difference in raw strength, Sella froze for a heartbeat. In that instant Gladia's soft palm settled lightly against the center of her solar plexus.
A thunderous boom exploded outward.
"Kh—hgh!!"
Sella's body was launched like a cannonball. She skipped across the training ground floor like a stone across water and finally sprawled flat on her back in a full spread-eagle.
"Uuugh…"
The patterns that had blazed so fiercely across her dark brown skin while she wrung her core dry now dimmed and faded. With Ancestral Protection completely released, her body no longer held the strength to twitch a single finger.
Total defeat…
An overwhelming loss with not a single excuse to be found. As she lay there gasping, staring blankly at the ceiling of the training ground, a steady rhythm of sound began to approach.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The leisurely click of a staff against the floor, accompanied by light footsteps. Then Gladia's face suddenly entered the corner of Sella's vision—still filled only with the ceiling.
That face looked so beautiful and delicate it was hard to believe it belonged to the person who had just savagely beaten her.
Gladia gazed down at the sprawled, panting Sella and asked in a gentle voice,
"Will you continue?"
At the question, a hollow laugh escaped between Sella's lips. She could not move a finger—what more was there to do? Every place Gladia had struck still hurt like hell.
Sella forced the words out toward the monster of a maid looking down at her.
"Call them. Healer. Dying. Me…"
With that, her consciousness sank steadily into darkness. As she blacked out, the last thing she saw was Gladia's flustered expression, and she thought,
Still… I did get to see a surprised face after all…