Takwin
Takwin. He was utterly obsessed with women.
As if he'd been denied them his whole life and held a grudge, he'd pounce on any remotely pretty female he spotted, panting like a dog in heat.
That woman-crazed bastard.
Woman fiend, seriously.
Woman-crazed fucker. Shortened to "woman fiend." That was what they called Takwin.
Guys who chased skirts too hard usually ended up in deep shit sooner or later. But Takwin had sharp instincts. He always toed the line just right, never quite crossing it.
That was why, despite the constant "woman fiend" jabs, he'd never caused any real trouble—until now.
"Heh, king mantis clan, huh? Up close, you're my type. Hit me up after the tournament. Big bro here might even get you into the Overlord Club."
True to form, he'd tossed a sleazy line at Bishier the moment she stepped up.
His eyes raking her body from head to toe with filthy intent, he grinned and flicked his tongue.
Body's a ten, face is cute as hell... damn, she's hot.
Takwin eyed Bishier like he'd unearthed buried treasure. This conquest would be easy. In Mantis Hall, dropping the Overlord Club name was like playing the ultimate trump card. No doubt she'd crumble at the mention.
"Sorry, but I'm not interested in joining the Overlord Club."
But Takwin didn't know. Bishier had already knocked on the club's door once before—and gotten shut down hard.
Sure, it was mostly Zakai toying with her, but either way, she'd washed her hands of the place completely. She'd even promised Kind they'd find a club to join together.
"What? Do you even know how good the Overlord Club is—"
"Player Yang, prepare for your match!"
The referee's shout cut Takwin off mid-sentence.
"Ahem. We'll talk after."
Takwin figured he'd corner Bishier later. A shrill whistle pierced the air, signaling the start.
They leveled their blades at each other.
Takwin favored swift strikes with his rapier-like sword, broad near the hilt for perfect balance in quick cuts.
Bishier, on the other hand, wielded a standard longsword suited to her thrusting style.
"Come at me. Let's see what you've got."
Takwin's taunt drew no hesitation. Bishier lunged first.
Clang, clang, clang!
Blades clashed, echoes ringing out.
She poured everything into each strike, but the gap was wide. Takwin, teetering on the edge of Growth Stage, dominated in raw power, technique—everything.
"Oh, solid basics."
Takwin's eyes sparkled brighter as he sized her up.
"Nice. You're really growing on me. Meet me after the tournament for real."
His voice dripped with insinuation as he shifted to offense.
Soon, Bishier's sword flew from her grip, just like Kind's had.
Beep!
"Match over! Takwin wins!"
The referee declared victory.
"Woooah!"
"Takwin never fails!"
"All-kill warrior!"
"Give us another sweep!"
The crowd roared for him again.
"......"
Bishier bit her lip, descending from the arena. Defeat wasn't a shock—she knew he outclassed her. But...
I thought I'd at least make him hold back a little...
Maybe the growth she'd felt in this tournament had gone to her head. A harsh reminder of how far she had to go. And failing to score even one win in the crucial finals? She felt awful for the team.
"It's fine, Bishier. You did great."
"He was too strong. You held your own."
"Yeah, don't beat yourself up."
Aleck and the others consoled her slumped form.
"My turn."
Ruslan rose with his sword in hand.
"Ruslan, fighting!"
"Show 'em, Ruslan!"
Boosted by the team's cheers, he strode to the arena.
"Heh, look who it is. The shield clan's golden boy."
Takwin greeted him with mock warmth.
"......Pleased to meet you."
"Heh heh, I've heard plenty about you."
Takwin grinned at Ruslan. The prodigy who'd drawn all the hype from the shield clan. He'd always wondered if the talent lived up to the buzz.
"Let's see what you're made of."
Takwin raised his blade eagerly. The match began.
* * *
Hm.
I let out a soft groan watching Ruslan and Takwin duel.
Ruslan's at a huge disadvantage.
Ruslan's style revolved around heavy swords, leveraging his natural power and instincts to overwhelm foes physically.
Having sparred with him myself, I knew exactly how crushing that pressure felt against someone with inferior stats.
But Takwin prioritizes speed.
Takwin wielded swift-sword techniques—chains of strikes, ambushes, counters.
With physicals far surpassing Ruslan's Infant Stage limits, the matchup favored him heavily against Ruslan's Juvenile edge.
"Ah......"
A collective sigh escaped the tense team as we watched.
Ruslan landed no clean hits, hemorrhaging damage from Takwin's hit-and-run tactics.
He won't last like this.
Takwin was a nightmare matchup for anyone on the team but me.
"Ooh!"
But Ruslan didn't go down easy. Proving his prodigy status, he unleashed impossible instincts, landing counters that chilled Takwin to the bone.
A hair's breadth apart—like the thickness of a dragonfly wing.
That sliver decided it. Ruslan's blade never connected.
He drank the bitter cup of defeat.
"I have no face."
Ruslan couldn't even look at us. He'd banked on at least one win to keep our chances alive.
"It's okay. You fought well."
All we could offer was the same consolation as before.
"Sorry, Robed."
Even amid our words, Ruslan apologized to her again.
The reason was obvious. Her matchup against Takwin sucked too.
Robed specialized in variable and illusory swords—styles that crumbled against swift blades.
Ruslan had aimed to take Takwin out himself, sparing her the burden.
"Nah, I'll handle it. Cheer me on, everyone!"
Robed flashed a bright smile and headed up, but...
I could only watch her back with a bitter smile.
* * *
"Guh."
Takwin grunted in genuine awe, facing Robed up close for the first time.
He'd noticed her from afar, but this near—blades at the ready—her overwhelming beauty hit him like a truck. He couldn't think straight.
"You're gorgeous."
Takwin dropped the playboy act, his words raw sincerity.
"......You're too kind."
"No, really. Prettiest I've ever seen. My heart's pounding like crazy."
"......"
Robed's brow twitched faintly at the overwhelming creepiness, but Takwin missed it.
"Meet me after the tournament. Got it?"
He issued it like an order.
"Sorry."
"What? I'm Overlord Club exec material. I can hook you up big time. You'll regret ignoring me."
"......"
Takwin kept throwing his lame lines, but Robed stayed ice-cold.
"Heh heh, fine. Show me your appeal with that sword, then."
Even her clear rejection only made his eyes gleam sleazier.
Robed held her composure despite his scumminess. Tension built as the whistle blew.
Go all-out from the start. Keep the pressure till the end.
Fortune favored her—Takwin was slacking hard.
Seize this chance.
With steely resolve, Robed unleashed her full Orchid Swordsmanship.
Form 3: Blossoms in Profusion.
Dozens of illusory blades bloomed instantly. True to its name—flowers bursting in full, riotous splendor—each fork traced petal-like arcs, hypnotic and beautiful.
"Whoa!"
"What the—?"
The crowd erupted in stunned admiration. Her illusions were masterful.
"......!"
Takwin reeled too. He hadn't expected her skill level.
Clang, clatter-clang!
Sparks flew as steel met in midair.
Takwin barely parried, on the defensive for the first time. Without his swift-sword training, his cockiness might've cost him the match right there.
Robed matched his Juvenile Stage, her technique honed sharper under Norton.
"Tch."
Takwin realized he'd lost control. He scrambled just to block her chaining strikes.
First real struggle of the tournament. Sweat poured as he flailed.
Press harder.
Robed sensed it instinctively: strike while she held the advantage.
Orchid Swordsmanship.
Form 4: Blossoming Spring.
Illusions blended with variable feints as flowers symbolized ripe spring.
Clang, clatter-clatter!
Takwin floundered more; Robed ramped up the assault.
Just a bit more—!
Orchid Swordsmanship.
Form 6: Hidden Flame in Embers.
Discarding flash for substance, her killing blow to seal victory.
All-in gamble.
"Tch, damn it!"
Takwin snapped alert. Every cell screamed danger.
I'm losing!
His earlier smugness? Fatal error.
"Raaagh!"
Roaring, he swung with everything.
Flash!
Lightning-like beams erupted from his blade.
BOOM!
The clash thundered, shaking the arena.
And the result...
"......!"
Every spectator's eyes bulged like saucers.