Winning the Bet

I'd pretty much given up on blocking attacks outright.

Instead, I focused on deflecting only the strikes aimed at my knees and wrists.

I had to stay properly balanced to attack, and I had to keep holding my sword to attack. Trying to block everything at once was what had worn me out before.

Combining it with Dragon Eye, I could reliably defend against the few spots she was definitely targeting.

Normally fatal areas like the head, solar plexus, organs, and balls—per the rules, if any of mine got burst or smashed, she'd lose. So she couldn't go all-out there.

If she couldn't inflict that level of damage anyway, there was no point guarding the rest. Why bother? For non-lethal spots, I could just tank the pain raw.

That's why I'd been waiting for this moment—until she'd fully analyzed me and her attacks turned ferocious.

I knew switching my guard stance like this would force her to analyze me all over again.

Now he's blocking wrists and knees clean as hell? Ignoring everything else?

Even if she targeted my blocks, anticipating exactly where the attack was coming would make it easy to parry.

In the end, she'd start hammering the other vitals as hard as possible. If she kept getting blocked blindly, it'd get boring—she'd figure landing a clean hit anywhere else would do.

That was the goal.

She was currently forcing her strength to stay restrained. A woman who'd sliced through countless foes with swords made of steel several dozen times heavier, or rare metals—what reason did she have to hold back her power from the blade in combat? Or use a practice tool like this instead of her main weapon? None.

And that casual remark earlier. First time in ages she'd come here, first student in ages...? Piling on all these self-imposed handicaps meant she couldn't use 100% of her real skill.

No matter how much of a genius, suddenly doing shit she wasn't used to—she couldn't control it perfectly and consistently.

She was drunk too; if she couldn't modulate her strength and shattered something, all the better for me. Easy win.

Valeria's sword strikes began targeting my solar plexus, liver, and such.

Guess this was one perk of my build. My organs, padded thick with fat, could handle focused hits better than the scattered pounding from before.

"Cocky little shit...? Fatass. You'd be dead ten times over in a real fight. Spreading your legs like a whore, you—"

"If it was real combat, I wouldn't even bother fighting you."

"You little fuck, if you mouth off like that after getting in as my disciple, I'll kill you. You hear—"

Valeria smirked, dodging my opportunistic thrust mid-sentence and circling to smack the back of my head.

"Twenty minutes left~ You'll get chased out without landing a single hit~"

She'd sized me up now, so she'd pound me at my limit's max—without breaking anything.

Now I could endure her attacks. The real issue was landing that one effective blow. Time was running out.

I didn't want to stoop to this. But facing actual failure and expulsion, I had no choice but to get dirty.

Ahh. Guess it can't be helped.

Time to use my class...!

Bracing for social suicide, I bellowed it out.

"Fuck... I can't—urk! focus."

"Making excuses, fatass? After getting your ass kicked for a whole hour, just admit you suck and—"

"FUCK, YOUR TITS ARE FUCKING BOUNCING SO MUCH I CAN'T CONCENTRATE!!!!!!"

She froze.

"You punk-ass brat. You think some lame provocation like that'll work on me, who's seen it all—"

"You think this is provocation, you fucking bitch??!? I'm about to get kicked out as your disciple—why the fuck should I care about your feelings!!! You wore those skin-tight leather pants and that shirt to make my dick explode, right?? You're so strong, your pussy must clamp down like a vice!!"

Valeria's face twisted in disgust. She gripped her sword tighter and started beating me even harder—like she didn't give a shit if I got hurt.

"You disgusting fuck, daring to talk about me like that? With my one arm gone, how dare a woman be—"

I cut her off again. Had to rattle her, shock her. No time for her to think.

"Your missing arm turns me on too, Valeria!!!!! I like your body, so why are you cockblocking me??? Tit owner, shut your mouth! Fuck!!!!!"

Valeria's swordsmanship career had never prepared her for a deranged, illogical psycho like this. Her head spun.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

What were Sword Masters?

Supreme geniuses. Talents that appeared once a generation, if that. The pinnacle of swordsmanship.

They weren't treated as people. A single one was an army, a destroyer god on the battlefield.

They could slaughter hundreds barehanded in a second.

So Valeria, reaching Sword Master at 17, had never been a girl or even a person from childhood—she'd been raised as a weapon, a tool of war.

Romance? Irrelevant. She'd butchered every man who approached. Her reputation grew terrifying.

Love and marriage just meant subjugation to men, becoming possessions and cum dumps, right?

Disgusting. Daring to cage her? Claim her?

She killed them or crippled them, and men steered clear. Everyone was weaker anyway.

Then she lost her arm, and as a weapon, she became worthless.

Still strong, but she couldn't compete with top active Sword Masters or fight at her old level.

It was a massive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠loss. The gap between realms was huge—she could've overwhelmed armies of dozens or hundreds if things went right.

Like an angel cast from heaven to hell. She quit everything, drowning in booze and heavy narcotic herbs.

She'd once taught disciples with pride, but they were all frauds or dead. She gave up. Daily stress and agony.

Who would risk their life spouting vulgar shit at Valeria like that?

Even weakened without her arm, her status remained: lower-tier genius, still top 0.1%.

Her arm complex made romance, marriage, sex pure triggers for freakouts.

Thirty-seven now.

Sometimes she'd wonder about marriage when others did it, but nah. A one-armed cripple, a burden—who'd take her? Like her?

That certainty was shaking now.

This lump of flesh bellowing in her face. A stranger whose name she didn't even know.

Choo Ye-jun's looks gave it plausibility: blubbery fat, ragged breaths from low lung capacity, ugly and repulsive.

Pathetic. Hateful. Unfathomable motives.

But... with a guy like this, maybe... really, truly. Not just provocation. Had he been aroused by someone like her from the start?

It fit!

She should've noticed from that first piercing stare. Men get hard when excited, right? His cock was huge!! Looked soft, so she ignored it, but that size screamed erection.

Thinking that way, his fatty voice rang sincere. Believable.

This pig of a man was in heat for her.

"Urk."

One second.

A former Sword Master—even she couldn't resist that one second if it landed.

Effective Gaslighting kicked in too. The passive persuasion boost made her believe Choo Ye-jun was genuinely hot for her.

It worked. One second freeze.

Ye-jun hurled his sword aside and activated the skill he'd earned raping Beatrice.

Guaranteed hit. Even if the Earth exploded, if he activated this, he'd pulverize Valeria's womb.

That's why he'd bought it mid-way. Just one hit, right? Effect seemed nerfed a bit, but the surefire accuracy was irresistible. He gritted his teeth, threw his body forward, and unleashed the punch.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Oh shit.

During that one-second freeze, Valeria could do nothing but watch Choo Ye-jun move.

What happened? How? Why?

If normal human fights ended in seconds, Sword Master perception was dozens or hundreds of times faster and fiercer.

So being utterly unable to move now was absurd. No. Why? Why now?

Something got her, but... that cheap sexual harassment...?

In slow motion, his massive bulk charged. Ah. Block—dodge—something...!!!!

When she tried swinging her sword, his fist was already sailing in, slow but inevitable.

Why ditch the sword? Wasting a golden chance.

She blocked easily with her wooden sword.

Crack—

What...!? The wooden sword shattered...!

Backstep in her mind.

Won't dodge.

Twist body?

Won't dodge.

Trip him or deflect?

No good.

No matter the tactic, nothing stopped that fist. In the end—

"Oof."

Uterus smashed.

"Hah, hah, hah, hah..."

Breathing ragged. Over fifty minutes of beatings. Body black-and-blue, swollen red. Left eye too puffy to see. Bones intact, but everything throbbed. Any spot unbruised?

I couldn't take the pain anymore and collapsed to my knees on the floor.

The loser stood fine clutching her gut; the winner was combat-invalid.

Choo Ye-jun rasped through his wheezing, gravelly throat.

"So... now that I've succeeded... I'm your disciple, right?"

"Get out."

"Pardon?"

Valeria shrieked, trembling, face beet-red.

"I said you're in, now fuck off!!!"

No need to hold back anymore, she grabbed him like a plush toy and hurled him out of the training hall.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Beatrice de Valois approached slowly from the corner, smirking like she'd predicted it all.

"You... you fucking bitch. This why you lost? To shit like that?"

"Who knows, 'former' teacher. What do you think?"

Beatrice leaned in close, whispering as if savoring it.

"You'll lose pathetically to Master. Train him and see."

"M-Master??!? You crazy slut, what the hell are you two doing!!!"

Valeria's already flushed face burned hotter.

"Heh. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Do what you want, auntie."

"...Don't let me see your face again. Get out before I kill you. Tell that fatass to come tomorrow morning."

"Yes, ma'am~"

Beatrice left the empty arena with a refreshed grin. No one noticed after.

"..... Haaah...?!"

Dozens of seconds later, Valeria collapsed, finally overwhelmed by the strange sensation, leaking sticky fluid.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

I lay glumly in the temple on duty, getting healed by Beatrice de Valois.

"Ah, our guild handles wounds like this... whew. Did a carriage run you over? Not even sword cuts—how'd you get messed up like that?"

After weird stares from the Swordsmanship Guild, Beatrice had supported me straight to the Temple.

Fuck. That shitty skill. Wanted to win the bet fair without cheap tricks, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first impressions were fucked from the start.

If she wasn't pissed at my flushed, raging ejection, what else?

Beatrice, channeling Holy Power into me, hummed faintly with a pleased smile.

"Why're you grinning? Happy seeing me get pummeled? Feel better now?"

"...Just. Happy."

"I see."

"Yes."

Silence stretched.

Her brainwashing was... effective? Too awkward.

"Master."

"Yeah?"

"You can trust me."

"...Mm."

"So I'll help you."

"Sure..."

"Until that crippled bitch Valeria squeals and submits to your cock...! And all the other women too—"

"Wh—no, what the fuck are you talking about!!?!"

Beatrice's eyes sparkled, gazing at me lying there getting healed.

"I heard your ambition loud and clear, Master! Yelling that boldly even before a former Sword Master...♡ You must want every woman you see, right~? Yes, I get it."

"No, you don't get it at all."

"Oh, really~? So you brutally raped me on our second meeting♡ and sexually harassed Lady Valeria~"

Beatrice whispered in my ear, slipping the Holy Power-emitting hand into my pants, gently stroking my cock to hardness.

"I know once isn't enough for you. Taking a promising future holy knight's virginity like mine and then ignoring me after one fuck—you're so cold."

"Cut that shit. It was self-defense with you. Teacher seemed unshakable by simple taunts, so..."

She smirked, stroking faster. I swelled huge, fully erect. Hah. Couldn't resist. Not a eunuch—when she came on this strong...

"Right, right. Self-defense until you flooded my pussy raw. Must've been tough."

"Skill effect. The skill made me cross the line that far, and—"

"Shh."

Beatrice climbed atop my now-healed body and started sucking my cock voraciously.

Sluuuuurp...... Slurp...... Sluuurp......

She blew eagerly, then pulled off to rub and jerk with her palm.

"You love this, backed up and hurting...!! Chuuuuurp...... You kept me alive as your onahole, right? Sluurp— sluuuurp— You changed your mind from killing me... because of this...!!!"

Should argue it wasn't why. Irritated by her weird fetishes, brainwashed for control, more useful alive than dead.

I came watching her devour my cock fiercely.

Ugh?! Uuung...♡ Pop!

She swallowed every drop, then smiled. "Sex... want to?"

Choo Ye-jun stood silently, stripping her clothes. She felt relief.

A lesson from her family surfaced: wife training, etiquette classes she'd heard endlessly.

A woman should eagerly tend her husband even unasked—deny vigorously if needed.

Overzealous denial was affirmation. Men dreamed of harems. Beatrice believed that. She'd nailed his intent.

From his actions, she trusted he'd make as many women happy as her in the future, supported him.

This short afternoon of fucking without protest marked the start. Beatrice began secretly planning gifts and rewards for Choo Ye-jun ahead.