Swoosh——.
Mixed with the vice commander's voice was a quiet rumble, distinct from the noise of the mercenary truck. Three luxury sedans glinted in the sunlight as they approached the orphanage. They parked gracefully, and chauffeurs stepped out to open the back doors.
The familiar faces that emerged were no strangers to me; there wasn't a member among Aurelia's elite that I didn't recognize. They were confidants of the eldest son, Leo, who considered the butler, Henry, his mentor.
My expression hardened, and my veins pulsed as I clenched my teeth. I couldn't help but stare at the third and final sedan, the one from which no one seemed to intend to emerge. Sia, the youngest of the Aurilia family, was known for her aversion to exposing herself to the outside world.
"The guests have arrived," the vice commander announced, making the tension in the air even more palpable. Sonu and the others looked on anxiously, while Butler Hery and his companions had already seated themselves in high-end chairs. It seemed they had brought the chairs with them, fitting for their status.
"Who will go first?" the vice commander inquired, casting his gaze towards us. Sonu, our representative, raised his hand enthusiastically. "I'll go first."
"Good. And who's our representative?"
"I'll do it," a female warrior chimed in. Her makeup was thick, her green hair vividly dyed, and she even wore a mask, as if she had picked up some mercenary merchandise somewhere.
"Oh, a woman."
Sonu's face momentarily flushed, and the mercenary chuckled at his reaction. "Swordsman?"
"Huh? Oh, yes. I use a sword."
"I'm a swordsman too. You can go first."
With a nod, Sonu gripped his broadsword. The Warrior raised her curved sword, a scimitar.
I observed the scene silently, contemplating the performance they were about to deliver in this match.
"The referees will be me and Roab here," the vice commander explained.
"Yes."
"The rules are international duel rules. If you surrender, you lose. If there seems to be a risk of injury, the referee will intervene. This is a match, not a real duel."
"Understood," Sonu replied with a nod.
"Then," the vice commander cleared his throat. "Come forward——!"
Sonu and the warrior ascended to the stage set up in the centre of the field.
"Ready!"
The Warrior extended her hand first, and Sonu, still tense, accepted the gesture.
After a brief handshake, they turned to stand ten paces apart.
"——Begin!"
The match began with a cautious exchange of blows, a reconnaissance battle. Neither Sonu nor she moved recklessly; this was a real sword fight, where even a graze could be deadly.
It was soon evident that Sonu was outmatched. The Warrior's movements were precise and controlled, and her skill level far exceeded his. She was playing with him, matching his level and wasting time appropriately.
Sonu was pouring all his energy into the fight. His determination and courage were clear, but it was a futile struggle against a vastly superior opponent. The audience watched as their swords clashed rhythmically.
At some point, Sonu took a deep breath, as if preparing for a desperate move due to fatigue. He twisted his body and swung his sword in a heavy strike.
The warrior gracefully sidestepped his attack and countered swiftly, her scimitar breaking through his guard.
The stage fell silent as both combatants froze, their weapons inches apart. They stared at each other wordlessly, their breaths ragged.
After a tense moment, the Warrior spoke, "Will you surrender, or should I stab?"
Sonu bowed his head with gritted teeth, and the children in the stands released sighs of disappointment.
The match continued one by one, with the mercenaries showcasing their exceptional control of the pace. All nine of our representatives lost their matches, each ending in a predictable defeat.
As the final match approached, the deputy commander sighed and scratched the back of his neck. The nine losers lay sprawled on the ground, and the playground was filled with the sounds of children crying.
"The last one must be that guy, the son of a knight," the deputy commander noted, pointing at me.
"Kevin Voss."
RRoan'sgaze turned to me, and I understood the weight of his expectation. It was time to show them what I could do.
"It's quite a coincidence; the best fighter in our mercenary group is still left..."
"Hey. Give it to me."
I reached out to Roan, who handed me his broadsword.
"Kevin, you said you wouldn't lose," he reminded me.
"I said that. But I don't know what will happen."
"What?"
Sonu seemed puzzled as I climbed onto the stage. The opposing mercenary was already waiting on the other side, a brown-haired man with camouflage cream between his eyes
"Are you a swordsman?"
I remained silent, gripping the heavy broadsword tightly. My opponent held a similar broadsword, his lazy laughter filling the air.
"Cute. Well, you're the son of a knight. But you know what? These days, the world has changed, and more knights don't use swords."
Ready!
My opponent was undoubtedly strong. I couldn't gauge his exact strength yet, but to me, he seemed to exist in a realm beyond my reach.
However, this presented an advantage.
He would underestimate me.
I was like a hidden gun in the hands of an infant. Instead of being on guard, he might worry about me stumbling or falling.
Perhaps, in his eyes, I was nothing more than a newborn baby.
Start!
The chance of victory was not zero.
I stepped forward, determined to prove that I wasn't to be underestimated.
Start!
As soon as the word was given, my opponent charged with full force, swinging his sword aggressively. The blade sliced through the air with deadly intent.
I knew better than to directly clash swords with this skilled mercenary. Instead, I decided to use my abilities strategically. I focused my attention on 'Copy-and-Do' and the hidden trump card from my journal - mana drugs.
Our swords clashed with a resounding thud. I deflected his attack, swiftly moved away, and maintained a cautious distance. His pause in the face of my manoeuvre didn't go unnoticed.
"…Oh?"
He chuckled, showing amusement at my tactics.
The fight began in earnest. The clash of steel echoed through the dojo, creating a tense atmosphere. My opponent moved with incredible speed and precision. Each of his strikes was aimed at my vital points, and his footwork was impeccable.
I utilized 'Copy-and-Do' to mimic his movements to the best of my ability, but it was clear that he was still a league above me. His attacks were relentless, forcing me to stay on the defensive.
Amid the battle, I decided it was time to use the [ mana drug ].
The rush of magic surged through my body, enhancing my strength, speed, and reflexes. My senses sharpened, and I could see his strikes coming a fraction of a second before they landed.
Despite the boost from the mana drugs, my opponent was still overpowering me. His skills were honed through years of experience, while I was just a teenager with newfound abilities.
Blow after blow rained down on me, and I struggled to keep up. Each party, each dodge, took immense effort. Sweat poured down my face as fatigue began to set in.
The fight was intense, but the outcome was becoming increasingly clear. My opponent was simply too strong for me to handle.
As the minutes ticked by, I realized that victory was slipping further away. But I refused to give up. I would fight until the very end, giving it my all.
The intense battle raged on, and despite my best efforts, the vast difference in skill and experience became increasingly evident. My opponent, the seasoned mercenary, continued to dominate the fight.
His strikes were calculated and precise, and he left me with very little room to counter. My defences were pushed to their limits as I desperately parried, dodged, and blocked his relentless attacks.
Even with the boost from the mana drugs, I could feel the toll it was taking on my body. Fatigue was setting in, and my muscles ached from the constant exertion.
"Is that all you've got, kid?" my opponent taunted, a smirk on his face as he pressed his advantage.
I didn't respond. I knew that words were meaningless in the heat of battle. Instead, I focused on my breathing, trying to steady my pounding heart and regain my composure.
With renewed determination, I decided to try a different approach. Rather than directly engaging in a contest of strength and speed, I focused on analyzing his movements and anticipating his strikes.
My 'Copy-and-Do' ability allowed me to mimic his techniques more accurately. I started to predict his attacks a fraction of a second before they came, allowing me to evade with greater precision.
For a moment, it seemed like I might gain the upper hand. I managed to land a few counterattacks, catching him off guard. But my opponent quickly adjusted, and the battle once again shifted in his favour.
Despite my efforts, the skill gap was just too wide. The seasoned mercenary had faced countless opponents in his career, while I was still a novice.
As the fight dragged on, my energy waned, and my movements grew sluggish. It became increasingly clear that I was running out of options.
In the end, victory was not within my reach. But I refused to give in easily. I fought until I could no longer lift my sword until my body gave in to exhaustion.
With a final, powerful strike, my opponent disarmed me. My sword clattered to the ground, and I fell to my knees, panting heavily.
The dojo was filled with the sound of applause, but it wasn't for me. It was for the victorious Warrior who had proven his superiority.
I had given it my all, but in the end, I was defeated.