As long as the opponent is within a 15-meter range, the [Power Loan] skill can be activated without them even noticing, giving it a somewhat magical curse-like feel.
As [Power Loan] activated, a warm surge of energy filled Ron's body, making him feel as if he had the strength of a raging lion.
"This Lice is really strong. Even with just 80% of his power, it's nearly twice my own. Without the Power Loan skill, he would be tough to handle," Ron thought to himself, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes.
Knowing he only had ten minutes, Ron needed to end the fight quickly.
Without further ado, Ron entered the arena, drew his longsword, and slashed diagonally across Lice's shoulder.
The strike was swift, but he controlled the force, using only 30% of his strength.
This was Ron's habit: in any duel or fight, his initial attacks were always probes.
If he revealed his full strength right away, he might end up in a prolonged battle, something he couldn't accept.
Though Lice had spoken arrogantly and seemed rough, when it came to actual combat, his gladiator instincts made him cautious.
He didn't rush to counterattack but rather blocked with his sword while retreating.
Ron guessed that Lice was also testing his strength, so he continued to attack, each time pretending to go all out, but in reality, he was only using 30% of his power, waiting for Lice to let his guard down.
Sure enough, after several probing strikes, Lice thought he had gauged Ron's strength.
"His sword is fast, but the power is weak. He's already giving his all, just as I suspected. He's no real threat."
With that thought, Lice began his counterattack.
First, he forcefully blocked one of Ron's strikes, pushing him back, and then swiftly unleashed several powerful slashes, targeting Ron's left side.
Seeing that Lice had taken the bait, Ron blocked while retreating.
Thanks to the passive skill [Sword Block], though it hadn't reached its maximum level, meaning it couldn't block 100% of all attacks, Ron was confident he could block 100% of Lice's attacks given his speed and strength. So, the fight was fairly evenly matched.
"How does such a small guy have so much strength? He can block Lice's heavy slashes?"
"His blocking technique is impressive, redirecting Lice's power by deflecting the sword's edge. But if all he can do is block, he'll still lose."
"He's almost done for. Look at his footwork."
Ron ignored the spectators' comments, sticking to his own rhythm.
Because he consistently used only 30% of his strength, his sword was always outmatched by Lice's force. Even though he successfully absorbed some of Lice's power with each block, his sword would still be knocked aside, causing him to stumble.
Of course, this was all part of Ron's plan.
He was waiting for the right moment to counterattack and end the match with a single strike.
Lice swung another heavy slash, and Ron blocked it as usual.
Given the setup, Ron believed he had deceived Lice. He intentionally exaggerated his stumble and left his center open, creating a vulnerability.
Seeing the opening, Lice took the bait, quickly stepping forward, abandoning defense altogether, and slashed horizontally at Ron's head.
The slash was fast and vicious—against an ordinary person, there would be no chance to block.
But Ron smiled as he stopped retreating, using his full strength to block the strike.
To divert the immense force from the swords clashing, Ron spun his sword around his wrist.
This was a sword technique taught at the academy, known as the spinning sword technique, which quickly redirects the opponent's force and uses it to launch a counterattack, turning defense into offense in an instant.
Ron's sword spun swiftly around his wrist and then slashed forward like lightning.
At this point, Lice, not expecting such strength from Ron, was thrown off balance by the powerful block, losing his footing completely.
Just as Lice tried to regain his balance, Ron's sword was already at his throat.
The strike was incredibly fast, impossible to dodge. When the sword touched his throat, Lice thought he was done for, but it stopped just in time.
Lice was grateful Ron didn't kill him and was astonished by Ron's control over his sword.
With a clang, he dropped his sword.
"How could this be? Lice lost?"
"This guy was pretending all along—he's actually really strong!"
"What was that last technique? It looked amazing! If I learn it, I could instantly turn defense into offense!"
"I want to learn it!"
"A master in skill, and a master in character."
...
"You win! Young Master Ron!" Lice conceded sincerely.
Ron smiled and slowly sheathed his sword.
"If you hadn't been careless, you might not have lost so quickly!"
"Thank you for the advice. I won't underestimate any opponent again!"
As the other gladiators saw the result, they couldn't believe it and gathered around.
Seeing them approach, Ron smiled and asked, "Am I qualified to be your swordsmanship instructor now?"
"Yes! Absolutely!"
"Master Ron, what was that last move called? I want to learn it!"
"I want to learn it too! I'll stay up all night if I have to!"
...
Just as everyone was chattering excitedly...
Clap, clap, clap... A round of applause echoed from behind the crowd.
Everyone turned to see a middle-aged man in a wide white robe walking towards them, clapping as he approached.
Behind him was a tall figure cloaked in black, with his face hidden.
The crowd quickly greeted the man with respect, "Lord Bell!"
Ron saw the person in charge had returned and also greeted him politely.
Bell waved his hand to acknowledge them and walked straight to Ron.
"Your name is Ron, and you're here to apply as a swordsmanship instructor?"
"That's right, Mr. Bell!" Ron replied courteously.
"I watched your duel just now. It was quite impressive!" Bell said. "Your swordsmanship is exceptional, very eye-opening. To be honest, I'd be happy to hire you as the swordsmanship instructor.
However, you've come at an unfortunate time. I've already found a swordsmanship instructor for the gladiators.
So, I'm afraid I can't hire you!"
Hearing this, Ron felt as if a thunderbolt had struck him.
He had thought the position was secure, only to be disappointed.
"Well, at least the Power Loan skill gave me something, so it's not a total loss."
Ron consoled himself. Although he was reluctant, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't exactly force them to hire him at sword point.
Ron forced a smile, "Sorry for the trouble. I'll be on my way then."
He smiled weakly and prepared to leave.
But Lice wasn't satisfied with this outcome. First, he had already recognized Ron's exceptional swordsmanship after losing to him. Second, he had promised that if Ron defeated him, he would become their instructor, and he intended to keep his word.
He stepped forward and said, "Lord Bell, I don't mean to question your decision, but I want to know why you won't hire Mr. Ron. We need someone like him, whose swordsmanship is extraordinary. If he's not the one teaching us, I'm afraid I might accidentally kill someone again."
Bell was annoyed by this. How dare a lowly gladiator question him?
But money is money, and he kept his cool.
Smiling, he pulled the cloaked figure forward.
"This is the swordsmanship instructor I've hired for you. You might have heard of him. Ten years ago, he was known as The Butcher."
As soon as he said this, the gladiators were in an uproar.
"The Butcher Woris?"
"The one with a record of 140 undefeated matches!"
"The legendary gladiator who holds the highest winning streak in Lane Town—The Butcher, Woris?"
...
Bell was pleased with their reactions.
"Yes, it's The Butcher, Woris. I went to great lengths to get him to train you. So, any objections now?"
As a gladiator, Lice had of course heard of The Butcher, Woris. Anyone in Lane Town's gladiatorial world knew his name.
He was a god among gladiators, an undefeated legend.
Even so, Lice wasn't impressed.
"He's a gladiator from ten years ago. How much strength could he have left?"
"So what if he's Woris? Can he even hold a sword now? If he can't beat me, what's the point of hiring him?"
It wasn't unreasonable for Lice to say this. A gladiator's career is always short-lived.
No matter how brilliant, it's just a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things.
But his words shocked everyone present.
The cloaked figure, unfazed by the challenge, slowly pulled back his hood, revealing his face—he was a black man.
A terrifying scar ran across his face, cutting through his nose, making him look every bit as fearsome as his name suggested.
Woris said nothing. He walked to the center of the training ground, picked up the short sword Lice had thrown aside, and tossed it back to him.
Then, with a gesture, he signaled Lice to come and spar.
"He's going to fight Lice bare-handed?"
"That's crazy!"
"Unbelievable. After ten years, he's still so arrogant."
"Lice, take him down!"
...
Lice couldn't tolerate the humiliation. He grabbed the sword from the ground and charged at Woris...