Martial Arts Tournament — The Semifinals
The round of sixteen had come and gone in rapid succession, giving way at once to the quarterfinals.
Waiting for Schwarz after his advance from the round of sixteen was the young mage he had glimpsed during the preliminaries.
The outcome needed no suspense: Schwarz won.
A mage, after all, required time—enough time to weave a spell. Against the raw physical might of a dragon, further honed by the mana reinforcement Milia had taught him, that luxury simply did not exist. Schwarz closed the distance in a heartbeat, subdued the boy before a single incantation could form, and listened without comment as the defeated mage spat a bitter “Just you wait” before stalking from the stage. Ticket to the semifinals secured with almost casual ease, Schwarz settled into the competitors’ waiting room to watch Milia’s next match.
As expected of last year’s runner-up! What a ferocious onslaught! Belstead is completely on the defensive!
Milia’s relentless assault battered the boy called Belstead, forcing him into a desperate, stumbling defense. The heavy clash of metal rang through the arena as her halberd met his greatsword again and again, sparks showering in every direction.
It lasted only moments. In a single fluid shift of stance, Milia drove her foot forward and poured every ounce of strength into the shaft of her weapon.
“Hyaaaaah!!”
With a fierce battle cry she swung. Belstead, still recovering his footing, managed to raise his greatsword in time—only for a ringing clang to send the massive blade spinning skyward. A heartbeat later it slammed into the arena floor with a solid thunk, burying itself deep. Weaponless, Belstead sank to his knees in bitter frustration.
“Well fought.”
“Kh…!!”
Milia offered him a brief, polite bow, then stepped down from the stage.
The winner! Milia Valentine!!
Cheers erupted throughout the arena.
“You did well.”
“Ah. Thanks.”
A short while later Milia entered the waiting room. Schwarz held out a water bottle. She accepted it with a faint smile, drained it in one long pull, and exhaled a soft phew.
“Come to think of it, your next opponent is Senior Amelia, right?”
“Yes.”
Having claimed his own ticket to the final four, Schwarz’s next match would be against a girl named Amelia bein Rosenberg—daughter of Duke Rosenberg, one of the kingdom’s five great houses, just as Arge’s House of Rumenia was. Last year she had defeated Milia herself and taken the tournament crown.
“You’d better stay sharp. Even I could barely keep up with her with my eyes.”
“If My Lady says so…”
The prowess Milia had just displayed already far surpassed ordinary human limits. For her to speak of someone in such terms meant that person was no ordinary foe.
“Of course, I’m no pushover this year either. I’ve spent the last twelve months training for the sole purpose of beating her.”
“I am certain My Lady will achieve an excellent result.”
Schwarz regarded her with a quiet smile and a small nod.
Just then the arena speakers crackled to life.
The first match of the semifinals will begin shortly. Contestants, please prepare yourselves in advance.
“That’s my cue. I’ll be going, then.”
Schwarz rose from his seat.
“Go get ’em. I’ll be cheering.”
“Yes. I will be certain to live up to that expectation.”
Milia flashed him a fighting pose. Schwarz answered with another faint smile, nodded, and set off down the corridor.
At last—the semifinals! Of the four who have climbed this high, who will seize the championship?! We now begin the first match of the final four… staaaaaaaart!!
“I’ve heard a few things about you. Your hair color is every bit as unusual as the rumors claimed.”
“I am honored that the Lady of House Rosenberg would remember the name of a mere servant of no consequence.”
Schwarz inclined his head politely toward Amelia’s calm, measured voice.
She stood roughly his height. If one word could capture her overall impression, it was sharp. Crimson hair and eyes the color of polished rubies, paired with features so keen they seemed cut from glass, combined into an aura that kept others at a respectful distance.
Amelia bein Rosenberg. Eldest daughter of the Rosenberg ducal house—one of the kingdom’s five great pillars, known as the Sword of the Realm. In the three martial tournaments held during her years at the academy she had never once tasted defeat, earning her the moniker Invincible Princess.
“Drop the ‘Lady.’ Here, you and I stand as equals.”
“…”
The quiet pressure in her voice alone was enough to make Schwarz understand she was no ordinary opponent.
“I watched your round-of-sixteen match. Impressive.”
“It was nothing so remarkable.”
Schwarz bowed his head again as Amelia regarded him with open interest.
“You seem to have a habit of underselling yourself. How many people in this place do you think can afford that luxury?”
“…”
“Have some confidence. Belittling yourself too much can become a weakness.”
“I appreciate the advice.”
He bowed once more. Amelia’s lips curved in a faint smile as she extended her hand.
“I’ve talked long enough. Shall we?”
“The pleasure is mine.”
Schwarz clasped her hand briefly, then walked to his mark. Amelia took her place opposite him and drew her rapier from its scabbard with a soft shing. Even to Schwarz, who knew little of blades, the thin sword’s cold, flawless gleam marked it as a masterpiece.
Begin!!
A chill silence settled over the arena. It shattered with the clear ring of the starting gong.
“Hup!”
In that same instant Amelia exploded forward, rapier flashing. The sheer speed made Schwarz flinch; he twisted aside, but a fraction too late. A thin red line opened across his cheek.
“Excellent reaction speed.”
“Are you trying to kill me?”
Amelia flicked a droplet of blood from her blade while Schwarz wiped the trickle from his face. Had he failed to dodge, that single thrust would have ended him on the spot.
“Hardly. I simply never imagined you wouldn’t be able to avoid it.”
“…”
A dozen retorts rose to Schwarz’s throat, but there was no time for banter.
“Well then. Let’s continue.”
“Kh…!!”
Amelia surged in again, unleashing a storm of strikes. Milia’s claim that even she could barely track the girl proved no exaggeration; Amelia’s form seemed to multiply, afterimages dancing in every direction.
“Tch…!!”
Too fast—far too fast—and laced with feints. Even as he dodged, shallow cuts bloomed across his body. At this rate he would be overwhelmed without landing a single meaningful counter.
Then, in the midst of another evasion, Schwarz’s eyes caught a fleeting opening—the briefest pause as Amelia prepared a feint.
“Hah!!”
He seized the instant, clamping a hand around her arm.
“Oh?”
“That’s enough of that!!”
Amelia’s voice held genuine surprise. Schwarz planted his feet and heaved. Her body left the ground; an instant later he slammed her into the arena floor hard enough to crack the stone.
A thunderous boom rolled across the stands.
And yet—
“Just as I expected. Truly splendid.”
Amelia rose as though nothing had happened, brushing dust from her clothes.
“What…!?”
“Hmm… that expression is rather rude to a lady, don’t you think?”
What in the world is her body made of? Schwarz clicked his tongue. Amelia’s eyes narrowed, as if she had read the thought.
“You were the one who said we stand as equals, Lady Rosenberg.”
“True enough. In that case, I suppose I should take this a little more seriously.”
Her brow twitched; then she smiled and settled into a new stance. Somehow she looked… annoyed.
“If you keep spacing out, you really might die.”
“…!!”
The words reached him at the same moment her figure vanished—or rather, closed the distance so swiftly it seemed she had.
“Dodge.”
“…!!”
Schwarz flung his head back on pure reflex; the rapier’s tip whispered past the tip of his nose. A relentless chain of thrusts followed, each packing enough force that he had to pour every shred of concentration into evasion.
Then—
“Damn it…!?”
A fractional misstep opened a gap. Amelia’s blade flashed toward it. This is bad—! Schwarz threw up an arm; a wet slash carved a deep gash across his forearm.
“Guh…!!”
Pain lanced through him. He leapt backward, teeth clenched, trying to create space. Amelia gave him none. She closed the gap in a heartbeat and resumed her blistering assault.
“Until now… you were holding back?!”
“I’m merely pushing myself a little.”
Her reply was flat, almost bored, even as she poured on still greater speed.
Ah! Schwarz is completely overwhelmed by Amelia’s onslaught!!
“Tch…!!”
Schwarz clicked his tongue at the announcer’s excited cry. Distance meant nothing; her speed erased it in an instant. Minor damage bounced off her like rain. Magic might have changed the equation, but with every eye in the arena fixed on them, revealing his true nature was too great a risk.
That left only one path.
End it with a single, maximum-power blow.
Decision made, Schwarz thrust his open hand into the path of the next lunge. A sickening, searing pain tore through his nerves as the rapier punched clean through his palm.
Ah! Schwarz failed to dodge! Rosenberg’s blade has pierced straight through his hand!!
“What on earth are you—!!”
Amelia’s eyes widened as blood ran down the length of her rapier.
“My apologies in advance.”
Schwarz managed a strained smile. With mana-reinforced strength he locked the blade in place, pinning her weapon—and her—where she stood. At the same time he gathered every scrap of mana he could muster into his free fist.
Understanding dawned on Amelia’s face. She released the hilt and tried to leap clear, but it was already too late.
“This is going to hurt.”
Grinning fiercely, Schwarz drove his mana-charged fist straight into her midsection.
In the next instant, the entire arena fell into stunned silence.