Finals
"The finals of the First Internal Ranking Tournament will now begin."
Norton announced the start of the finals from atop the platform in a resounding voice. I stood in the center of the training ground, facing Ruslan and exchanging greetings.
Standing face-to-face like this, his presence is no joke.
Ruslan had a sturdy build at least 1.5 times larger than mine. I'd always known he was big, but facing him in the arena felt entirely different. He seemed even larger than usual.
"Let's have a good match."
Ruslan extended his thick right fist toward me. A fist bump—the pre-match greeting commonly known as a knuckle salute.
I stared blankly at his large, thick right fist before lightly tapping it with my own right hand.
"……?"
Ruslan's face briefly twisted in confusion. My awkward posture as I met his fist looked off to him. He had no way of knowing it was because of my injured left shoulder, so he tilted his head at me.
"Both fighters, to your positions!"
Ruslan didn't dwell on the question and prepared for the finals.
"Hoo."
He gripped his main weapon, the bastard sword, with both hands and assumed his stance. I drew my sword from its scabbard to match him.
"……!"
Surprise flickered in Ruslan's eyes once more. It wasn't the standard long sword I usually favored. This was a wakizashi, and a slender one at that—closer to a saber.
Swords like this were typically used for quick-draw or variable techniques. It was far removed from the swordsmanship I normally employed, so Ruslan looked even more puzzled.
"What's that? Why such a flimsy sword……?"
"It's like the one Robed uses."
"Switching swords mid-tournament will tank his proficiency."
"What's he thinking?"
The watching trainees began murmuring as they saw the wakizashi I'd drawn.
* * *
"What do you think Aleck's planning?"
"Hm……."
The instructors were just as puzzled. Bardwin's question made Norton cross his arms and stroke his chin.
"Looks like he's injured."
"Pardon? Injured?"
"Yeah, look at Aleck's left arm. It's hanging limp—he can't bend it properly."
"Ah……!"
Bardwin nodded as if it suddenly made sense. He'd felt an odd discomfort in Aleck's posture today, and now he realized it was because he couldn't use his left arm.
"Even without using his arm, his movements are remarkably natural. It's like he's done this a hundred times…… You can't fake that with just good training."
That was why Norton had only sensed something off about Aleck's stance at first, without immediately spotting the injury. He watched Aleck's movements with a puzzled expression but focused on the match. The clash was about to begin.
* * *
Swoosh!
A vicious slicing sound cut the air as Ruslan's bastard sword grazed past me. The mere wind pressure from it nearly threw off my balance.
Whoosh!
And he swung that heavy blade with incredible speed. As I dodged the first strike, he immediately flattened the blade and swept it sideways.
His swordsmanship proficiency is top-notch!
Ruslan wasn't some fool relying solely on his natural physique. He'd steadily honed both his body and his sword skills. With talent and effort combined, his achievements were beyond words.
They said he beat someone who'd entered the Growth Stage before coming here—and it wasn't empty talk.
Now that our blades had crossed, I could see it. He might still lag behind those in Growth Stage, but he had the solid foundation to overcome any who'd slacked in their training.
Whoosh—slash!
Even amid the chaos, Ruslan's sword relentlessly targeted me. I twisted and dodged his blade by the narrowest margins.
Too bad about my shoulder.
Normally, I'd have parried it outright. Though I'd be overwhelmingly outmatched in power, his technical mastery was on another level—one I couldn't rival.
I was the lord of the Hercules beetle clan, one of the Four Great Lords, deemed incomparably strongest and most ferocious in raw strength. I'd even clashed head-on with Jangdaran and won.
I could've handled him by deflecting and countering…… but not like this.
If I could wield ether, sure—but right now, with one arm in this body, it was tough. That's why I'd picked up this wakizashi.
"What's he thinking?"
"He's just getting pushed back."
"Can't compete, huh……."
The trainees watching what seemed like a one-sided bout let out deflated sighs. Some even sighed in disappointment.
But amid them, a few watched my movements with gleaming eyes.
* * *
He's wielding a wakizashi. Is he planning to use quick-draw and variable strikes?
Robed eyed the wakizashi Aleck had chosen and guessed his intent. That insane speed quick-draw he'd used to overwhelm her. Aleck's technique wasn't just pure quick-draw finesse—it blended in thrusting and heavy strikes too.
Thrusting made sense with his usual sword, but handling quick and heavy on top was a fresh shock.
I knew he was skilled, but not this skilled.
She and Aleck were still mere juveniles. Far too early to master even one style, yet he'd shown thrusting, heavy, and quick-draw.
If he pulls off quick-draw and variable today too…….
It'd mean he was a heaven-sent genius swordsman, unbound even by the praying mantis clan's limits. Her head said it was impossible, but her heart harbored a flicker of hope.
With her expectations rising, the battle between Ruslan and Aleck passed its opening phase.
* * *
Hoo.
I faced Ruslan and let out a slow breath. His style was heavy sword and thrusting.
Sword techniques had no absolute counters, but advantages existed. Thrusting favored flexible blades; heavy sword favored quick-draw and variable.
Quick-draw and variable—swords I wielded countless times before regression.
My main art was Wind White Swordsmanship (SS). A wind-attuned style. Wind was capricious, ever-changing—which meant Wind White Swordsmanship incorporated many quick-draw and variable forms.
To beat Ruslan today, even if tough, I'd need to draw on those nuances.
Start soft.
A shift blew through the one-sided match. As I slowly raised the wakizashi in my right hand, Ruslan charging at me froze for a split second.
The angle I aimed at was exquisitely perfect—precisely blocking his sword's entry path.
"Hah!"
Only Norton, recognizing the advanced technique, let out an exclamation of awe.
I'd planted the seed of change and focused harder.
I can't use full Wind White Swordsmanship. But…… I can pull off the quick-draw and variable in certain forms.
The wakizashi's tip trembled faintly—a signal of quick-draw and variable's onset.
One became two, two four. Four became eight, eight sixteen.
My blade's afterimages multiplied infinitely.
"Hup."
Discomfort crossed Ruslan's face for the first time. Sure, one swing could dispel most afterimages. But instinct screamed the remnants would target his throat, heart, head.
He hesitated, unable to swing recklessly.
Good instincts.
I grinned at him. A rash swing would've ended it in one counter.
If he won't come, I'll go.
For the first time since the match began, I stepped forward.
Swoooosh!
My blade danced through the air from my hand.
"Whoa—!"
"Insane…… what the hell?!"
In an instant, my sword multiplied into dozens. Afterimages filled the arena, showcasing quick-draw and variable at their peak. The trainees gasped in awe at the spectacle.
"My god!"
Robed was the most stunned. As a quick-draw and variable specialist, she saw Aleck had surpassed her by leaps.
"Kuh."
Ruslan desperately swung defensively, dispelling the onslaught—but couldn't erase every change. My blade struck his arms, legs, torso without mercy.
Pop, paat.
Wounds bloomed rapidly on Ruslan. His movements grew frantic, cold sweat beading on his brow.
He realized one exchange had fully shifted momentum to Aleck.
I'll lose like this.
Ruslan gripped his hilt tighter, swallowing a groan.
Blunt Mountain Swordsmanship.
Fifth Form: Mountain Splitter.
Mount-like weight settled on his raised greatsword. Mastered, it could crush mountains—an ultra-heavy form.
Ruslan's imitation crashed down.
Boom!
Air churned, wind pressure raging outward.
Now or never.
I instantly knew this strike would decide victory.
Even my myriad changes can't withstand that weight.
Ruslan indeed. His innate divine strength unleashed heavy sword's pinnacle—beyond my current changes.
With two hands or ether, it'd differ. But one-armed, quick-draw and variable alone couldn't clash head-on.
But dodging now means eventual defeat.
My non-optimal body drained stamina faster. Right-hand-only variable and quick-draw was straining my wrist. Prolonged fight was loss; we settle now.
And I wasn't without odds here.
Softness overcomes hardness.
Yielding mastery bloomed at my blade's tip.
My slender wakizashi met Ruslan's mountain-cleaving greatsword.
"Th-that……."
"Reckless!"
"Why now……."
"Like hitting a rock with a spiderweb."
It looked utterly mad. Onlookers frowned in disbelief.
But my counter was just beginning.
Swoosh!
Like salmon upstream, my blade deflected his, coiling up its length.
"……!"
Ruslan's eyes widened huge as my sword rode his.
This trajectory would sever his throat.
Then—
His eyes flashed feral. He released the hilt and jerked his head back.
"……!"
My turn to be shocked. His response exceeded expectations.
He'd absorbed Norton's training more thoroughly than thought. Once impossible, now he flowed elegantly hilt-free.
Thwack!
Head back, he kicked my blade's base with his right foot. The impact flung it from my grip.
Pain flared in my palm; crimson blood sprayed. Skin torn.
Whoosh!
Crisis wasn't over. Ruslan spun midair from the recoil, centrifugal force powering a fist thrust.
Pot-lid-sized fist hurtled at me.
Checkmate.
All sensed Ruslan's win. Weaponless, airborne, unbalanced—surrounded.
Yet I realized something: time slowed for me.
Woooong.
Ruslan's fist crawled like a turtle. My thoughts accelerated in the surreal.
Wind swirled around it.
Wind's grain!
The wind trailed his fist's path. Its power birthed massive pressure—my opportunity.
I focused on the flow.
……!
A forgotten sense flickered awake.
Ultimate Body forms a core; ether gathers there, attuned to one element.
Mine pre-regression: wind. I'd earned "Wind God."
Fwaa.
Starlight gleamed in my eyes; consciousness plunged inward.
Awakening, an ether sea stretched before me—vast, covering my inner world.
Wind rose.
Groooar—
Vortices spawned, birthing an ether storm.
Same wind affinity as before.
Obvious for same body, but glad.
Crisis awakened my ether affinity handling.
I knew why.
Good to have you back.
I smiled, feeling wind envelop me. Even briefly, it'd turn crisis to victory.
But as I grinned to return—
Crackle!
Hm?
Blue lightning flashed in the storming ether.
What’s that?
Vision blinked.
Flash.
Back, Ruslan's fist still approached. No time to ponder; body reacted.
Wind's grain.
I reached along the visible flow. Hand to his, time normalized.
Taat!
My right hand traced the wind on his fist, somersaulting my body.
Unbelievable feat! Using his wind pressure.
Now!
I flashed past wide-eyed Ruslan, knife-hand to his nape.
Screee!
Blade cut air.
Thud!
Precisely struck vital point.
Crash!
Shockwave; Ruslan tumbled forward. I rolled uncontrolled.
Ugh.
Exhaustion pinned me—fingers immovable. I'd laced faint ether into the strike.
Shaking right arm propped me up. I eyed ahead.
How's Ruslan?
