Chapter 3

A Cliché of Clichés: Suppose a Tournament from an Old-Timey Battle Manga Came to Life!

The day of the Continental Student Sorcery Tournament, there were blue skies over Azami’s coliseum, Maria Stadium. When the king’s daughter was born, he’d been so excited that he named the place after her.

While there had been little interest leading up to the event, news of the Holy Sword had really gotten the public’s attention, and the place was packed with tourists and reporters.

And the news that Rol from the Rokujou Sorcery Academy had stepped down from her prestigious role to enter a student tournament was also the talk of the town.

The hall was quite worked up, and this was clearly affecting the team led by Choline.

“Geez, too many people here,” Choline grumbled. “Can’t blame them for talking after that headmaster’s stunt, though.” She stood there, dumbfounded by the colossal crowd.

“Wow… So many people,” Lloyd said, looking ready to run for it. “More than the entire population of Kunlun!”

“You’re cute when you’re scared…!” Selen offered, worked up for very different reasons… So basically, operating at her normal capacity.

At the center of the group was Riho, looking determined, her eyes gleaming. As the noise of the crowd erupted, she kept her mithril arm cradled to her, glaring at the entrance.

“Come at me… I’m not about to lose…”

Her quiet oath was drowned out by the boos of the crowd.

Rol’s group had appeared—and the crowd wasn’t a fan of her stunt. The world considered her a coward, like a professional baseball player showing up to play in a little league game.

Rol sailed over to them, unaffected by the booing—possibly even enjoying it. “How are you, Choline?”

“Great, and you, Rol?”

Steam poured out of their ears as they made eye contact.

Mena immediately destroyed the mood. “’Sup, dudes! Rol made us pretend to be students even though we’re way too old! I’m Mena!”

“…You seem cheery.”

They were enemies, but Riho had been feeling sort of sorry for the sisters…so this attitude surprised her.

“Well, it’s not permanent. We’re gonna win this dumb thing and enjoy our student discounts all over Azami!”

This declaration certainly got a rise out of Riho.

“…Oh? Big talk,” she replied.

Mena’s eyes gleamed. “You seem like you’d be pretty good at magic, but this is three-on-three. The other two strike me as physical fighters…but this is a magic tournament. I know you’ve got a lot riding on this, but this is our job… Just don’t blame us when you lose.”

Mena clearly thought they had this in the bag.

Riho’s brow twitched. “You’ve got a burly fighter yourself.”

Said fighter, Phyllo, was ignoring everyone but Lloyd, moving directly toward him.

“…I really want an answer…”

Phyllo’s approach was like a tackle or… Nah, pretty much just a tackle.

But Selen saw her coming and nimbly slipped between them. Phyllo hit the brakes.

“Ha! I know how you operate, you thief!”

“…Phyllo. Not thief…”

“Oh, how polite! I’m Selen Hemein. No use hiding it—Lloyd and I are lov—”

“Wow! You’re the Cursed Belt Princess?!” Mena yelped.

A stir ran through the crowd.

“That was before! These days, I’m Lloyd’s lo—”

“I heard you have a cursed belt that’s actually an artifact that protects you from all malicious attacks… Weapons are limited to magic items, but there’s no such restrictions on armor. Could be trouble…”

Selen was getting sick of being interrupted right before the important bit.

“Well, that ain’t the only reason we’re confident,” Choline boasted.

But Rol’s confidence clearly matched hers.

“Yet you have this boy who clearly serves no use other than to boost your team’s numbers. Hoping to win every match, huh? I almost pity your selection pool.”

Lloyd’s fearful expression certainly would lead to that conclusion.

“Urp…,” he gulped, deflating. But…

“““You’ll see.”””

Everyone else knew better.

“Did I hit the nail on the head? …You poor thing.”

“Yeah, well… You go ahead and think that.”

Lloyd was more than just an ace up the sleeve—he was like bringing a cannon to play rock-paper-scissors. But the boy himself was totally unaware of that.

“…Mm.” Phyllo, well aware of his strength, tugged Rol’s sleeve—presumably warning her to be careful.

“Don’t worry. No matter how easy this is, your reward will be the same.”

But this was entirely lost on Rol.

The matches were ready to begin.

The shocking news that the Holy Sword had not only been retrieved but was a prize for the victors resulted in Choline’s team utterly failing to check the brackets at the drawing. They quickly briefed themselves on the tournament rules and brackets.

“Uh… Three people per team, generally one-on-one matches, only attacks allowed are with magic, conduits like wands, and magic items like magic stones.”

“But any defensive equipment is okay,” clarified Selen. “Hmm, people might have magic-resistant amulets…”

“We don’t want anyone getting badly injured, so we’ve got healers posted. Having decent equipment doesn’t hurt, though, no,” added Choline.

Lloyd looked relieved to hear this. “Good! I was scared I’d get hurt.”

Everyone else looked at him like he was nuts. This was the boy who’d torn through all those expensive resistant amulets.

“So…when do we fight Rokujou’s team?”

Choline scanned the brackets. “They’re on the opposite side! We gotta take it to the finals.”

“Hmm, looks like the Rokujou Sorcery Academy team is up first.”

The announcer called their name a moment later, and the Rokujou team took the stage. All of them were immediately showered in boos… Well, they were all aimed at Rol.

The headmaster herself entering to claim a prize—to the audience, this made for the perfect villain.

Listening to the jeers of the crowd, Rol’s usual smug look was nowhere to be found. Instead, she was fixing each and every jeerer with a serpentine stare.

“Shaddup! Silence! Just watch me win!”

The crowd got even angrier. She certainly had the basics of a pro wrestling heel down pat.

Neither of the Quinone sisters appeared bothered by any of this. Mena was still grinning, and Phyllo just stood there, expressionless.

“And they’re up against…”

A moment later, a group of knights in heavy armor strode slowly from the waiting area, headed to the ring. These were clearly no ordinary opponents.

“What? Knight in shining armor…at a magic tournament?”

“Temple Knights…from the Azami Temple School.”

“What’s a Temple Knight?” Lloyd asked.

“Good question,” Choline said. “Knights of the temple are our trump card when fighting magic crime—they specialize in it. To the point where our school has them stop by to give guest lectures sometimes.”

“Normally, they equip swords, but these guys have monk staffs studded with magic stones. Even their heads are covered in full-plate helmets… They’re really not messing around.”

One of the Temple School instructors overheard Riho and shot her a stern look.

“You there, military cadet! Of course we’re not messing around! Our school takes this tournament very seriously.”

“Why?” asked Selen.

With folded arms and fingers tightening around them, the teacher responded, voice choked with passion. “You see, with the attention that the Holy Sword brought to the tournament, they want to make a good show…so that ‘girls will like them!’ they told me, tears flowing.”

“…Riiiiiiiiiight.”

“Men aren’t their faces! They are their potential! Thus, full-plate armor! A pretty face isn’t the mark of a real man!”

Upon closer inspection, this instructor’s face definitely was a step in the direction of “zoo animal.” Also his body odor…was kinda zoo-like.

Incidentally, Temple Knights were known for training day and night in full gear, so…the odor went with the territory.

Appalled by basically all of this, the girls looked toward the stage…

“…Girls.” “Say something.” “You say something!” “…Are you trying to kill me?’”

…and regretted it immediately with secondhand embarrassment.

These unpopular boys were being approached by a beautiful (if expressionless) girl with a model physique—Phyllo.

“…Hi.”

“““Oh, hi!”””

Phyllo gave out just enough of a “dispassionate beauty” vibe to wrap the Temple Knights around her finger.

“…Dibs.” “For real?” “What?! It’s my turn!” “…Drop dead.”

This was definitely the kind of team that would leave a mixer still single.

Armor clanking wildly, the Temple Knights settled things in a no-holds-barred round of rock-paper-scissors, and with the turn order finally established, it was time for the battle to begin.

“First match! Rokujou Sorcery Academy versus Azami Temple School! Start!”

At the ref’s bellow, the armored knight charged forward.

“Hngg! Win and prove my worth! To get girls to like meeeeeeeee!”

The stones at the tip of his staff glowed, becoming wreathed in fire.

Putting the force of his charge behind it, he thrust—

“…Mm.” Phyllo didn’t bat an eye.

She just leaned sideways and gave the staff a quick tug.

And the Temple Knight went flying through the air like a ball of cotton, landing on his back.

“Gah!”

It sounded like all the air in his lungs had been forcibly ejected.

A fall onto one’s back in full-plate armor must be one hell of a body blow, but the Temple Knight was not so easily daunted.

“Great moves!” he roared, praising his opponent as he scrambled to his feet.

As he did, a shadow fell over him.

He looked up, puzzled.

“…Mm.” Phyllo was rummaging through her pocket.

She’d closed the distance between them in an instant.

The crowd was just as shocked by this as the knight.

“Hngg.”

Just as the knight was fully upright, Phyllo held out a bronze stone.

A magic stone.

The Temple Knight quickly held out the buckler attached to his left hand.

Fire? Water? Lightning? Or an explosion?

He could soak at least one blow from any of these.

The shield was his pride as a Temple Knight. He watched Phyllo carefully around the rim of it.

“…Mm.”

With that faint noise, there was a deafening explosion, right before the knight’s eyes.

“Sh-she just hit him with the stone!” Riho screeched.

The crowd reacted a moment later.

The Temple Knight’s armor was blown off, leaving him half-naked, limbs flung out like a frog on its back.

…And his face was sort of frog-like, too, FYI.

“I—I just want to be popular…”

Yeah, that’ll have to be way in the future.

Phyllo was just standing there—the palm of her hand smoking with shards of the magic stone embedded in it.

She glanced down at it like she would a skinned knee but soon lost interest and started walking toward the Temple Knight.

“W-winner! Phyllo Quinone!” the ref yelped, sensing danger. “Quickly, get a stretcher!” He placed himself between them.

“…It’s over?” Phyllo repeated. She turned and left the stage, taking her place by her sister’s side.

“She’s insane,” Choline said, as horrified by Phyllo’s entirely emotionless behavior as she was by her total lack of concern for her own injuries. “It’s like punching with a bomb. And destroying a magic stone every round is hardly cost effective!”

An expensive battle technique must have been coming directly from Rol Calcife’s personal funds. It definitely had the crowd buzzing.

She clearly meant business.

This was no ordinary tournament.

Meanwhile, the second match was starting.

Totally unaffected by any of this, Mena was flouncing up onstage, skirt twirling.

Her opponent…a grimly silent Temple Knight.

“…Girls…”

“Whatever. This ain’t that kinda establishment.”

A taciturn knight versus a chatterbox.

The ref gave the signal.

This time, the Temple Knight didn’t charge in.

After that last display, he was playing it safe, watching for his opponent’s every move.

“…Go on.”

“Sorry…my sister’s just ridiculous. I’m a totally ordinary mage.”

She used a sigil to deploy a spell, and a moment later, a mass of water shot out of her hand toward the knight.

“Here’s a Water Ball!”

“…This…was covered in class…”

Spitting a cliché line from an amateur manga, the Temple Knight swung his arm, slicing the ball with his buckler and deflecting it.

She’d drawn that sigil accurately and quickly. The Temple Knight knew she really was a normal mage.

Deciding he didn’t need to worry, he quickly advanced…

But Mena showed no signs of backing away. She just waggled her fingers.

“Eh-heh-heh. But—I am a water specialist.” The waggling fingers suddenly snapped closed. “A simple deflect won’t end my spells.”

The remains of the Water Ball suddenly covered the Temple Knight’s face.

“Gah…cough… I’m dying…”

Unable to breathe, the Temple Knight started thrashing at the side of the stage, drowning on dry land. He managed to get his helmet off, but his movements were growing slower and slower…

Ten seconds, then twenty. Looking like he’d dunked his head in a goldfish bowl, he was clearly in agony—screams went up from the crowd.

“Whoops, I keep this up, he’ll die—man, it’s hard to know when to stop with humans!”

Mena released the spell.

The water dissipated, and the Temple Knight collapsed, limbs sprawled in all directions.

With water pouring out of every hole on his face, his mouth was wide open like a yawning hippo, his face blue from lack of oxygen. And his face was sort of hippo-like, too, FYI.

“W-winner! Mena Quinone! Someone give the kid CPR, now!”

“…Please let it…be…a cute girl…”

“He seems fine! Just drag him offstage!”

And like that, Rokujou Sorcery Academy had two wins, qualifying them to the next round.

“…I figured Rol was the biggest threat, but those two are bad news, too.”

As if the boos of the crowd were pleasing to the ear, Rol glanced over at Lloyd’s group, grinning.

The matches afterward—well, honestly, they were pretty forgettable.

After those two bouts, everyone else just looked like nothing special. No matches were as one-sided as the Temple Knights’ had been.

“Only surprises here are the Rokujou Sorcery Academy people, huh?” Selen observed.

Choline shook her head. “Well, before they went nuts, people thought Jiou Monk Seminary had the best shot at winning this.”

But before she could explain further, a group of young men wrapped in yellow cloth stepped forward. They carried the scent of incense on them—their hands clasped symbolically, their shaved heads gleaming in the light.

“I believe you are from the Azami Military Academy. We’re from the Jiou Monk Seminary.” The student monk in front placed his palms together and bowed low.

The two behind him went all the way down to the ground in prayer.

“Uh, hi…”

“There have been many problems between Jiou and the troops of Azami, but as monks-in-training, we have no ties to those matters. Please pay them no concern. I look forward to a good match.”

He seemed like a really nice guy, which sort of pulled the rug out from under the Azami brigade.

“R-right…”

He was clearly nice. But the students praying prostrate behind him—well, that was just plain weird.

“Um,” Lloyd said. “Why are those two praying?”

“Ah, they are offering up a prayer of thanks for their first encounter with a female in eons. Pay them no mind.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Is everyone in this tournament so desperate?” asked Selen.

Like students from an all-boys school at a girls’ school festival—No, high school boys would never go this far. They’d just get a bit too close and try to catch a whiff of the girls.

Ignoring the girls’ glazed looks, the lead monk continued his spiel. “They may go for the occasional body contact during combat, but please, pay that no mind. We look forward to a good fight!”

“Oh, hell no! We’ll absolutely mind the hell out of that!”

But Riho’s cry was met with placid, unwavering shades of worldly desires.

“Later.” They left, heads sparkling.

“That’s the best they have to offer?” Selen asked, incredulous.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Choline said, shaking her head. “Monks of Jiou hole up in the mountains, training…just as their hormones start raging. They almost never come down to populated areas…making them desperate for the slightest glimpse of the fairer sex. So…”

“What?”

“This Continental Student Sorcery Tournament is the one means their students have of experiencing the real world! The battles are fierce and bloody, and the contestants are truly the seminary’s best!”

“It’s like dropping starving leeches into your fish tank…”

“Their monks use techniques that seal your magic powers. Acquiring that skill requires both natural aptitude and a ton of hard work…but that’s why they’ve been able to conquer so many neighbors.”

“Meaning horniness expands the empire, eh…”

“Wait!” Lloyd spluttered. He’d been listening intently and saw this as a clear threat. “You mean they fight by sealing other people’s magic? If your magic gets sealed in a magic tournament, you’ve got no way to win!”

Riho seemed unconcerned. She knew how to handle this. “They can only seal your magic if they touch you. So don’t let ’em.”

She gave Selen’s cursed belt a pointed glance.

“Oh…she’s a good match, all right!” Choline said.

Whether she got that hint or not, Selen seemed confident. “I wouldn’t let anyone but Lloyd lay a finger on me! I’m going to send those baldies packing!”

She headed up onstage, cackling.

“The Azami Military Academy versus the Jiou Monk Seminary! Start!” the ref yelled.

The monk threw himself forward, muttering under his breath, eyes wide open, hands making groping gestures. There was a very small electric current running over the hands, so this must have been a lightning spell.

“Allow me to massage the worldly desires out of you!”

Said a bundle of worldly desires.

“Go away, creep! I will defeat you in the name of true love!”

Said the stalker.

In a sense, this was a duel worth watching…but Selen had known nothing about magic a few days before. Only one thing could make up for that…

Snap! Craaaaack!

“What?!”

“Ha! My impenetrable defense! Nothing gets past the cursed belt!”

The cursed belt. An artifact from Kunlun, it was originally the hide of Vritra, the Divine Beast—now made into a piece of equipment that would protect its wearer from any malicious intent. The curse had caused nothing but suffering for most of her life, but now it had become her trademark look.

The monk changed directions, moving his palms on a new trajectory—from the boobs to the thighs, to be specific.

But again, the belt slapped him away, like an experienced hostess brooking no nonsense.

Having been properly chided, the pervy monk’s serene expression faded, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Hngg… C’mon, just a little!”

The whiny kid inside him was coming out.

Selen exploited this opportunity. “—Flame!”

The chant and spell deployment took some time, showing how hastily she’d acquired these new skills. And the flame produced was hardly significant—but it was flung directly at the face from a short distance. Effective enough.

“Hngg! Let me grope you!” Burning, the monk desperately struggled on.

“…Flame!”

“Buttocks!”

“…Flame!”

“T-tits!”

“…Flame!”

“…At least…the legs…please…”

Witnessing the monk go from medium rare to well done, the crowd began shrieking.

They were yelling things like, “One more to finish him!” or “That’s our Cursed Belt Princess! No mercy!” or “Stop ruining the rep of the local lords!” That last one had to be Allan.

For ten minutes, Selen’s clumsy spells made him into roast beef until he crumpled to the ground without ever managing to touch her.

“Chagrin! Chagrin…,” he sobbed. Like, seriously wept.

“Winner! Selen Hemein!”

When she heard that, Selen looked relieved and dragged herself off the stage, looking exhausted.

“Well done, Selen! That belt’s amazing! You totally handled him.”

“Thank you…but I’m so out of magic…”

She did look really drained. She’d had to endure the student monk’s sexual harassment attacks on top of using recently acquired skills.

“A-are you okay?” Lloyd asked, worried. As if she’d been waiting for that very moment, Selen collapsed against him.

“Oh…I feel faint! But I’ll be okay. Clinging to your side will allow my magic to recover faster…”

“Er, uh…th-that tickles!”

“That’s the magic! Proof that my magic is recovering!”

Selen’s logic was suspect but her desires fulfilled.

Seeing no point in arguing the matter, Riho just grabbed Selen by the nape of her neck and peeled her off Lloyd.

“I think drinking a magic potion will help you recover a lot faster than clinging to Lloyd.”

“What are you talking about?! The victor deserves a reward! …Mmph!”

Riho shoved a small potion bottle between Selen’s lips, silencing her. It went down the wrong pipe, and Selen was left coughing.

“Gah, hack, cough! So…so bitter! Blegh!”

Magic potions were made from flower petals and butterfly wings mixed with weeds, so they were gritty, bitter, and tended to sting. If they weren’t proven to be effective, nobody in their right mind would ever drink them.

Leaving Selen choking, Riho waved a hand and walked away. “Geez… Time for the next match! Later!”

“G-good luck!” Lloyd said.

Riho shot him a genuine smile—a rarity. “I got this.”

Riho took the stage to find the first monk they’d spoken to already standing there, forming symbols with his hands.

A relaxed stance, a calm demeanor—this one could be trouble. Riho braced herself.

“Oh, you’re next?” he said. “Which means that boy’s your team leader? Surprising.”

“We got our reasons.”

“Oh? I’m curious.”

“Sorry, but that’s not for perverted monks to know.”

“Heh-heh. Can’t have you looking down on us. Me and that last man? From completely different dimensions.”

“That’s quite the claim.”

“Yes! I only love in 2-D.”

“Ew.” She’d thought he’d be trouble. But not in this way.

“So before the sun sets, I need to tour all the bookstores in town! Sorry, but I’m gonna end this one quick.”

“Oh, okay. I agree with that last part.”

Sensing they were ready, the ref gave the signal. “Right! Start!”

“I’ll go easy on you,” the monk said, his serene expression never flickering. He held out his hand.

Riho regarded the handshake suspiciously…but then bared her fangs and accepted it.

“I’ll go easy on you,” she said.

She held out her mithril arm. The monk’s expression clouded.

“…That’s…”

“Cheating? You were trying to use that handshake to touch me and seal my magic, right?”

“…But my techniques won’t work on a false hand. In which case…!”

The monk withdrew his hand, immediately deploying a spell.

“Divide! Flame Wall!”

A wall of fire appeared between them, splitting the stage in two.

“Thin wall! I guess this is part of your whole 2-D shtick?”

“What?!”

For the first time, she got a rise out of him. Riho stuck out the mithril arm, holding the palm toward her opponent and moving it around like she was stirring the fire.

“How…?”

“This is nothing… Thunderbolt!”

A bolt shot out of her hand like a rocket, and lightning struck the monk’s stance.

“Hngg!” He quickly leaped back, clearly flustered but already calculating his next move.

“If the wall of fire does nothing…then I’ll have to touch her directly and seal her magic…if I can touch her anywhere but that arm…”

“And? How you gonna do that?”

“…What?!” He looked up to find himself surrounded by walls of fire.

Walls thicker than his own, in all directions…

“I’m outclassed…”

The crowd and the monk seemed equally taken with the power and grace of the gleaming mithril arm.

“Hard to read books when you’re covered in burns.”

“I-if my fingers are clumsy, I might flip too many pages and see crucial spoilers! I’d like to avoid that.”

Perhaps it was not a fear we all share equally, but the monk accepted his defeat.

“Winner! Riho Flavin! Azami Military Academy advances to the next round!”

She left the stage to a chorus of cheers.

“Well done, Riho! The power of mithril strikes again.”

“If I can control it, it’s a great weapon…but if I let it, the thing’ll drain my magic and…boom.”

Riho glared down at it…and then Lloyd stepped up, holding a little bottle.

“Good work, Riho! Here’s a potion.”

“Oh, I’m good. I’ve got plenty of magic left…”

“Don’t be silly, Riho,” Selen said, clutching her shoulder. “No reason to deprive yourself!” Her face twisted demonically, tears welling in her eyes.

“…Are you seriously holding this against me?”

“I can still feel it in my nose!”

“W-wait, don’t pour it in mine! It’s not a nasal spray!”

Lloyd turned to look around. “Hmm, I don’t see Marie anywhere… She said she’d be here, cheering me on.”

But he didn’t see her pointy hat in the stadium.

Back at Marie’s house on the East Side, trouble was brewing.

“Where are you going all dolled up?”

“…Er, shopping?”

The moment Marie tried to leave to watch the match, Alka had sensed something and teleported over.

Fully done up, perfume sprayed over her black robes—it was definitely not a look for a shopping trip.

“Liar! Before Lloyd came, you were way too lazy to ever wear makeup! Any time you ran into someone you knew, you were forced to hide yourself like someone with a guilty conscience!”

“How do you even know that?!” Marie yelped, turning bright red.

Alka thumped the table. “You’re not off to see Lloyd strut his stuff, are you? I’ve looked into this! You tried to use the fact that I can’t go to keep it hidden from me!”

“So how did you find out?!”

Just then…the vibration of the table thump dislodged the lid of a small box on top.

Inside—clearly a lunch, stuffed with all kinds of food, neatly arranged.

“…Ah!”

“…A lunch, huh. Not made by Lloyd, either. He’d do a better job.”

Yep, this was Marie’s special lunch, made with love. All her pent-up gratitude—which, let’s be honest, is just love—crammed into this offering unto Lloyd.

But just before she left to deliver it to him at the tournament location, she’d been caught by Alka, the Love Cop.

“…It’s for me.”

“LIAAAAAAAAAAAAAR! Would you decorate your own lunch with HEARTS?!”

“Yes, I would! I love myself!”

“Liar! Before Lloyd came, you were a dried fish of a woman living on canned food and coffee! You ate so few vegetables that you got constipated and had to force yourself to choke down some veggies raw! You were so starved for home cooking, you’d specifically deliver things to neighbors at dinnertime to trick them into inviting you to stay for supper!”

“How much time did you spend spying on my life?! This is criminal!”

Marie was technically the princess. Yet after that list of horrors, this sounded totally unconvincing. Digging up all manner of indignities certainly left her red-faced, though!

Alka took a quick glance back at the crystal. The villagers were starting to notice her absence.

She angrily clicked her tongue. Reluctantly, she started dragging her feet back toward it.

The crystal served as an Alka-exclusive teleportation gate, allowing her to travel from one end of the continent to the other in the blink of an eye—well beyond what any mortal could accomplish.

“…Sadly, the villagers are getting suspicious. I have to get back.”

“Bon voyage! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Marie gave Alka a merry wave.

“Marie, you’d better not be planning on going to see Lloyd in action without telling me.”

“Heavens, no!” Marie said, sounding like she was reading cue cards. “It would never do for a student to go see something that her master can’t!”

Alka scowled at her. She was obviously going. This called for desperate measures.

“Okay, fine. Then just to be sure, I’ll put a curse on you that makes you get a gurgling stomachache every ten minutes.”

“What? That’s mean, even for you!”

Alka ignored that protest, drawing something in ancient runes.

“Just making sure you keep your word and don’t sneak off to see him! You spoke words of respect for your master, and in return, I offer you a solution to your constipation! Do me the honor of accepting it!”

“Don’t worry, master! Lloyd’s cooking has me smooth and regular!”

“Now you’re just bragging!” Alka slammed the runes into Marie’s belly. Marie quickly turned green, goose bumps rising all over. That first wave was already hitting her.

“You loli grandmaaaaa! Aughhhh!” With a scream, she vanished into the toilet.

Grinning, Alka shouted through the door. “Whoops, I might have overdone it a bit! That rune was for serious blockage! Well, if you prostrate yourself before the crystal and repent in detail, perhaps I’ll release the spell early.”

Then she vanished into the crystal.

A few minutes later, Marie staggered out of the bathroom.

“You monster… Curse the ancients who left those stupid runes with her…”

With these frequent, severe spasms, she could never go see the match. Marie was done for.

“Knowing her, it’ll wear off this evening…and it’s…”

The church bells rang twelve times.

“Oh god… She’d better not have set it to midnight! I can’t take twelve hours of this!”

Marie turned pale at the thought.

A few minutes later, Marie was supplicating herself before the crystal like a drought-plagued tribe praying for rain.

“Noon, huh?”

The church bells were just audible over the din of the hall. The finals were swiftly approaching.

The unusually fast pace of the tournament was a combination of Rokujou Sorcery Academy’s rampage and Azami Military Academy’s steady forward march.

Phyllo and Mena. The Quinone sisters’ battle with the Temple Knights had been enough to make all further opponents lose the will to fight.

Meanwhile, on the Azami side, Selen’s impenetrable defense soon forced her opponents to give up, and the ordinary spells that Riho’s opponents used were no match for the high-level ones afforded by her mithril arm.

These two pairs were now facing each other onstage for the finals.

As the two teams lined up to greet each other, Choline spoke to Rol. “Do you remember when the two of us squared off in mock combat when we were students? We each won once.”

Rol just looked surprised. “Nope, it’s been totally wiped from my memory. As long as I get that Holy Sword, nothing else matters.”

“…Right.”

Whether it was because her attempt to start an argument had whiffed or because the change that her old classmate had undergone came as a shock, all Choline could manage was a sad response.

“First-match contestants, stay put. Everyone else, clear the stage, please.”

First up was Phyllo versus Selen.

This was quite a matchup; even world tournaments rarely saw anything this good. The crowd was getting pretty hyped.

On the one side, Phyllo Quinone, who went around punching people with magic stones.

On the other, Selen Hemein, with her absolute defense protecting her from all magic as she slowly whittled them down.

The proverbial spear and shield.

Selen herself was getting heated for entirely different reasons.

Everything that this woman’s done with Lloyd! It’s envia— Unforgivable!

Meanwhile, Phyllo was paying Selen no attention at all, waving at Lloyd behind her.

“Ah…ah-ha-ha…” Riho was elbowing him in the ribs. Maybe a bit too hard.

“Tempting the husband before the wife’s very eyes! Have you no common sense…?!”

You mean the kind of common sense that mistakes an imaginary marriage certificate for reality?

But as the delusion took hold, the light in Selen’s eyes faded. The dark, empty orbs bore through Phyllo…who seemed entirely unconcerned.

“…Common sense?”

“That’s right! Just grabbing his hand and acting like his girlfriend without consent! Barbaric actions with no heed for his feelings! Anyone with common sense would know better!” Selen thrust a finger up, confident her point was made.

“Right back atcha,” said Riho.

“Pot calling the kettle…,” offered Choline.

She was literally calling out her own actions, so nobody found it very convincing.

“…You…do the same…”

“Sh-shut up! I’m allowed! I’m his wife! In the future!”

Even an opponent as silent as Phyllo was openly arguing against her.

“Um, can I start things?” the ref asked, unsure of himself.

“…Mm.” Phyllo nodded.

“Okay…final round, everyone! Phyllo Quinone versus Selen Hemein! Let the match begin!”

The crowd—which had been unable to hear much of their argument—erupted in applause.

“…Mm.” Phyllo whipped out a magic stone, and the audience roared again.

“…I’ll be fine. My bond with Lloyd is secured by the red belt of destiny!”

Selen had spent over a decade with this belt wrapped around her face, and when Lloyd freed her from that nightmare, it had left her somewhat uncomfortably devoted to him.

With the curse lifted, the belt had become much more useful, protecting her from all ill will.

But despite Selen’s confidence, Phyllo appeared undaunted.

As the crowd cheered, she walked forward, holding the stone before her.

It’ll be fine! This belt can handle any attack!

Phyllo swung her arm to smash the magic stone.

But the belt didn’t move at all. It just hung limp at her side, like it couldn’t be bothered.

It’ll be fine! It always protects me!

Phyllo’s swing had almost hit her.

I’m fine! I’m fine!

Just as the stone was about to strike her head, Selen lost her nerve and leaped backward.

“Why isn’t it doing anythiiiing?!”

The stone hit the ground and exploded, sending Selen flying. She scrambled to her feet, covered in dust, yelling at her belt.

“What the hell, belt?! You’ve always protected me before! Aren’t you supposed to protect me from all malice?!”

The belt just hung there, unresponsive.

Was it on strike? Before Selen could ponder it further, Phyllo caught up with her.

“…Next.”

An even bigger boom shook the stage.

“H-how can you attack with insane force and zero facial expression? Is there no thought in your head? No emotions? Wait…is that why?”

Selen’s own monologue had given her an idea.

It protects me from all malice, but…if there is none…

On the sidelines, Riho and Choline were reaching the same conclusion.

“Y-you mean…”

“She’s not hostile at all?!”

No expression. A martial artist who lived to fight. If she bore Selen no ill will and just demonstrated her own skills…

She was no different from a machine. The idea horrified them all.

“That’s the most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard!”

Without the belt, all Selen had was a hastily learned, wimpy fire spell.

Did she stand any chance here?

Shielding herself from the blast, pebbles showering her body, Selen asked herself, I can’t win? Against her? Against the thief toying with Lloyd’s heart?!

There was a line she could not cross. Selen found that line again, marked it for herself, and stepped forward.

“Ten years belittled as the Cursed Belt Princess! Ten long years together! It won’t hurt you to listen to me once in a while! Otherwise, I might as well just have some string dangling off my hips!”

The belt endured this torrent of abuse in silence.

“…Mm.”

Another merciless attack with a magic stone.

Was she finished? Everyone thought so.

But then there was a snap, and the belt formed a wall, blocking the stone’s blow.

The woven layers of the belt withstood the force of the blast, and the cry from the crowd was the loudest it had been all day.

“…Mm?”

“Heh-heh-heh…finally. Finally, it has awakened!” Selen roared, gleefully. Peals of laughter rang out. “My passions for Lloyd have risen! I have, at last, tamed the cursed belt!”

Phyllo just got ready for another attack. “…Again.”

“Useless!” The belt snapped out, weaving together in front of her. “I can control it at will…and that makes me invincible!”

“…Then…double…”

Phyllo pulled out two stones and tried to slam them both home.

But…

“Nope!” Selen’s belt wrapped itself around Phyllo’s body.

There was a squeak as the leather pulled tight. Phyllo’s movement stopped.

“…Ugh.”

“I can squeeze tighter if you like,” Selen purred, triumphant. She’d turned the tables and was sure she’d bested her rival in love.

“…Not that easy.” Phyllo dropped the magic stones, clenching her fist.

A tiny gesture that no one in the stands could see.

Yet every hair on Selen, Lloyd, and the crowd stood on end.

A chill swept through the arena. Only Lloyd managed to remain calm—and only barely.

“Quite the aura…,” he observed. “Reminds me of my grandpa’s… Those fists might be more of a threat than the magic stones.”

“More dangerous than an explosion?!”

Punching with the stones was nothing more than a means of attack that adhered to the tournament rules. Without those… Well, those stones were nothing but a burden.

Phyllo’s inflating aura seemed to be saying just that. It was like an intimidating heat haze writhing around her.

Selen’s spine had frozen stiff. Her triumphant look had faded, and she didn’t dare speak a word.

Choline’s lecture flickered across her mind. Phyllo had trained in the style of Pyrid the Fierce God, who legends claimed had punched a hole in a mountain.

I scoffed when she said that…but now I’m thinking it might be true…

She tried to get a grip on her emotions, focusing intently on Phyllo’s every move.

“…Mm.”

Phyllo snaked her hand through a gap and grabbed the belt…and went into a throw.

Selen’s body was flung helplessly through the air.

“Er, what?!”

She’d not been expecting that. Unable to stop it with the belt, she landed on her head.

“Bleargh!”

Not the most ladylike noise.

An instant later, the belt bindings went loose, and Phyllo leaped free.

She closed the gap between her and Selen instantly, ready to pound her fists down on her prone form.

The same fists that supposedly shattered a mountain.

“Wha—?!”

Her life was in danger. Selen’s final word was an instant away from being Wha—?!

“F-foul! Rule violation!”

The ref flung himself between them, stopping the match.

“…Huh?” Phyllo turned to him, confused. From the ground below her came a low chuckle. Selen grinned up to her. Oblivious to her nosebleed.

“You finally did it, Phyllo! You swung a fist in a magic tournament!”

“…Urp.”

Her expression may not have wavered, but there was definitely a hint of dismay in her voice.

“This isn’t a street fight! This is the Continental Student Sorcery Tournament! Even for you…”

“Uh, sorry,” the ref interrupted. “Selen Hemein—you’re the one who violated the rules.”

“Wh-what? How?”

“Well, using the artifact to defend yourself is okay, but you attacked with it! And not magically. You physically restrained her with the belt…”

“…Oh?”

“I should have stopped it sooner…”

“…Uh-oh.”

Instead, she’d been thrown to her defeat.

“How you feeling? She really slammed you in the ground. Plus, getting disqualified on top of that…”

“Don’t rub salt in my wounds.”

Riho was definitely teasing Selen.

“Are you okay, Selen? You’re injured!”

“I’m fine! If I just cling to you, Lloyd, my wounds will heal faster!”

Her nose was gushing with blood, and her mystery logic was possibly even more unsound than before.

“Well, we may have lost one, but let’s put that behind us. Next up is…”

Phyllo’s sister was already onstage. Mena Quinone on standby. She was doing stretches and what looked like practice golf swings. Like she was trying to wind people up.

But she was a water magic specialist.

Her trick where she suffocated people with a ball of water was to be feared.

And that was likely not the only trick up her sleeve.

“Unlike her sister, she’s a pure mage and a very good one…,” Choline muttered.

Mena Quinone was a mage who could probably do very well in the World Tournament. It was ridiculous that she’d even been allowed in a student one. Definitely a big leaguer in a little league game.

“With one loss, we’ve got nowhere to go,” Riho said, glancing over at Rol.

Rol noticed and shot back a triumphant grin.

“…I wanna put the fear in her so hard, every pore on her face opens.”

“What a coincidence, Riho! I was thinkin’ the exact same thing.”

Both turned their grins toward Lloyd.

“Lloyd, you’re up.”

“Huh?”

He’d been preoccupied with Selen’s clinging and just looked baffled by this sudden directive.

“Uh, but if I lose…”

His self-esteem was so low that he remained convinced he was only here because they needed three people. He seemed prepared to give up before fighting, so Riho had to gently ease him into it.

“Don’t be silly. You’ll be fine.”

“Er…but…”

“I know people always say this,” she interrupted. “But I know you can win.”

“Um…”

“I’ve got an eye for these things. Trust me.”

He looked down at the mithril arm she’d placed on his shoulder, thinking.

Then he looked up again, eyes gleaming.

“…Okay, Riho. I trust you. I don’t know what I can do up there, but…”

“Just do like you always do.”

Lloyd nodded and headed toward the stage, steady on his feet.

“…I’m a little worried,” Riho started.

“About Lloyd?

“Hardly.” She cackled. “No, Mena Quinone. I’m sure she knows her defensive spells, so she probably won’t die, but…”

All concerns lay not with Lloyd but with the person who had to fight him.

A big leaguer might be able to run roughshod over the little league players, but there was nothing they could do against a bear or a tiger on the pitch.

They’d get eaten alive before they could even say, “Play ball!”

When Mena saw her opponent wasn’t Riho but Lloyd, she was a little shaken.

“Y-you’re…”

“Yes! Let’s have a good match!”

Lloyd bowed so hard he nearly cracked his head on the ground, and Mena bowed back, still a little rattled.

Calm down… Lloyd may be enough of a superhuman to withstand Phyllo’s assault back at the info broker’s, but magic is a totally unknown factor…

Recovering somewhat, she managed to get her usual insolent smile back. Hiding her real thoughts, disguising her secret tricks—this was how she navigated the world.

And I’ve got the perfect spell to use on humans—one that stops them from breathing.

Her eyes opened just a crack, looking the boy over. He smiled gently.

His physical talents might be out of this world, but he can’t hold his breath for ten minutes… Nobody can. I’ve got this in the bag.

She would never have imagined that this ordinary, nervous-looking boy could stay underwater for a full hour…

“Let the match begin!”

At the signal, Mena jumped backward.

Lloyd seemed unsure what to do, so he took a relaxed fighting pose, waiting for her to go first.

Stance is amateurish… I’m overthinking this.

You couldn’t tell from looking at her that she was scrutinizing him. Smiling, she deployed a spell.

“Welp, time for this week’s tricky-wicky magic show!” she announced, using the same Water Ball she’d been using all morning.

Block his breathing, force him to forfeit—the perfect spell for a one-on-one match.

“Mm?”

Lloyd didn’t even try to dodge. The magic hit him head-on.

The crowd sighed loudly. “It’s over.” “He’s done.” Everyone was sure.

Lloyd looked like he had his head stuck inside a goldfish bowl. Mena grinned at him, adjusting her hat.

“Now I just gotta wait! I should have brought some milk and cookies.”

Any moment now, he’d start to drown and collapse. Then she’d let him go. She braced herself, ready to release the spell at a moment’s notice.

Five minutes had passed.

“Hang in there!”

This boy was every bit as strong as Phyllo. She had to wait patiently. Would never do to underestimate him.

Lloyd’s head was still in the bowl of water. He didn’t seem to mind. She watched him like a hawk.

Ten minutes had passed.

“…Really?”

Lloyd was showing no signs of suffering.

Or did he pass out standing up?

But a moment later, he cocked his head.

Nope! Then…what?

If he hadn’t passed out and he wasn’t struggling to breathe…was he just standing there?

…All humans need to breathe, though… He can’t be…

Twenty minutes had passed.

“What does this mean, boy?! What’s the trick?! Fine, you got me! How did you do it? Dammit!”

The impish grin had long since faded, and the real Mena was showing. She was upset, like she’d lost something important.

The crowd had long since moved from wondering at the mechanics of his trick to cheering him on. This was probably the most excited they’d been all day. People were taking bets on how long he’d be able to hold his breath.

“Colonel Choline…how long do you think he can hold it?”

“No point betting, Riho. It’ll be no contest.”

They were both cracking jokes like an old movie.

Across the ring, Rol’s pores and nostrils were all open, totally contorting her face into an ugly mug, yelling at the top of her lungs.

“Ref! Not fair! Violation! He’s up to something!”

The Azami side just shook their heads.

“Nope, he’s not.”

“He can hold his breath for an hour.”

“Like anyone would believe that craaaap!” Rol was turning bright red now. “Ref! Check him! He might already be dead!”

The ref seemed somewhat concerned. He took a few steps toward Lloyd.

“…Uh, Lloyd? Are you dead?”

“Blub-blub! (I’m not dead!)”

“He’s not dead!” The ref threw out a thumbs-up like it wasn’t his problem anymore.

“Cheating! Violation!” Rol screamed.

Mena was starting to sweat, unable to maintain the Water Ball much longer. She was scrambling to think of another move.

I never thought anyone would overcome this spell…but now someone has…

Whatever trick lay behind this, she just had to turn this into a straightforward magic duel. She could win that, she thought.

Her smile was long gone, her eyes open wide, boring through Lloyd. Like she was ready to kill him.

“You may have beat my Water Ball, but you haven’t beat me!”

She threw everything she had into it, shored up her defenses with a Water Wall, and blocked his eyesight with Mist.

I’ll finish this with an advanced water spell—Tidal Wave!

Advanced magic was classified as summons, and Tidal Wave was strong enough to wash away an entire military division.

Meanwhile, with his head stuck in the water, Lloyd was thinking, too.

Hmm… I thought she’d have a follow-up here, but she’s not doing anything…

He’d figured it was safer to wait and see, but he was starting to get worried.

And the ref had come over and asked him if he was dead, which was weird.

She can’t be trying to stop my breathing and force a forfeit… Even I can hold my breath for an hour, so that would be really inefficient.

Once again, Lloyd’s notions were miles from base.

Then, through the water’s distortion, he saw Mena doing something. The water around him suddenly fell away, and cheers went up all around.

“Huh? What’s happening?”

The crowd was clearly beside itself. This was because he’d overcome the invincible water spell, but that idea never occurred to him. From Lloyd’s perspective, he’d just been standing there.

Before he recovered from his surprise, Mena deployed a spell, creating walls of water.

Like waterfalls in all directions. Once she was surrounded, a thick fog started spewing out from above her head.

“Mist…?”

Spraying like a broken sprinkler in all directions, it soon blanketed the area until the entire stage was obscured. Most people would not have been able to see through it, but it didn’t really bother Lloyd. He just squinted a bit, peering through the mist and waterfalls, watching Mena closely.

Oh, she’s chanting…

Chanting, weaving, and deploying a summoning for advanced magic took some time. Watching her struggle with it gave Lloyd an idea.

Right! This is a magic tournament! I need to cast a spell!

Lloyd was pretty mad at himself for forgetting this. He began chanting.

Honestly, I don’t know if this will do anything…but Marie said what matters is that I try. And…

Riho had placed her faith in him. Wanting to live up to her hopes, he cast…a super beginner’s spell, Aero.

“A-Aer-yo!” He tripped over his own tongue.

Normally, a blown chant wouldn’t even cause a breeze, but this was Lloyd.

The air pressure around him was instantly disrupted. With an audible whoosh, a heavy gust gathered around his palm.

And from there, the gale rocketed toward Mena—blowing the Mist away, scattering the Water Walls…

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!”

…and slamming Mena into the wall a few dozen yards behind her.

The incredible force of it shocked the hall into silence. What kind of magic was that? There’d been no signs of anything this powerful brewing in the mist…

“A failed chant…,” someone whispered.

And the whisper began to spread.

“She was trying to cast an advanced spell, and it backfired!”

“Meaning…a fluke victory?”

“Not entirely… I mean, he did overcome the water spell, and that rattled her enough that she self-destructed.”

“Oh! A strategic victory!”

Lloyd caught pieces of this and put his own spin on it.

Oh, I guess she panicked and messed up her spell? Right, there’s no way my spell would have done anything. I mean, I totally tripped over the words and everything.

Lloyd bowed in all directions, breathed a sigh of relief, and walked off the stage.

“Sounds like she self-destructed!” he said. “But you’re amazing, Riho! I can’t believe you predicted all that and sent me in!”

“Uh, sure…right…”

Riho was trying to straighten her hair, which the gale had completely messed up. Meanwhile, the human weapon of mass destruction kept babbling.

“I’m glad I trusted you, Riho! Now if you win the next round, the tournament is ours! Good luck!”

Lloyd’s performance had rather taken the wind out of her sails, but he grabbed both her hands and gave them a squeeze. He didn’t mean anything by it, but…

“…Uh, thanks.”

It was extremely effective. The WMD had pierced her heart. Although she didn’t realize it.

“Right, right, too close! Maintain appropriate distance!” Selen blared, shattering the romantic vibe like a ref separating clutching boxers. Her heart had been pierced long ago, and now there was a wind whistling through the hole.

“We weren’t— That’s not what this is!”

“I think that response is a dead giveaway, Riho…”

Meanwhile, Mena was slumped at the base of the wall she’d hit, unconscious. Her gear was designed to protect against magic, but it had not done much for the impact.

Phyllo was cradling her, looking worried.

“…He’s strong.”

She glanced over at Lloyd.

“…Mm.”

The corners of her lips curled up.

“Let’s get her to an examination room. Make sure not to move her too much.”

When the healer spoke to her, Phyllo quickly let the expression fade.

“…Mm.”

She carefully picked her sister up and began tiptoeing toward the back. “That’s a bit too careful,” the healer commented.

They passed Rol, who didn’t even bother to glance at Mena. She was more focused on gnawing her thumb in frustration.

“…Dammit. How could she have panicked and blown herself up?”

Naturally, Mena had done no such thing.

“She’ll pay for this later…but I suppose this doesn’t really derail my plans.”

Rol had not been expecting to get dragged up onstage herself, but there were still plenty of ways for her to win.

“Riho’s been fighting all morning…which means she’ll be worn out. And I’m the one who taught her magic… Plus, I know how to handle that mithril arm.” Her eyes glinted like a snake’s. “I give you credit for forcing my hand…but as long as I get that Holy Sword, nothing else matters.”

She slithered toward the stage like a serpent.

“I will get that sword and attain greater heights!”

The crowd was really worked up now.

But it wasn’t because this was the final round of the Continental Student Sorcery Tournament.

Their frenzy could be attributed to the fact that the person who was desperate to get the Holy Sword—to the extent that she’d cast aside her profession and made herself a student again—was advancing to the stage, paying no heed to the jeers.

The perfect villain. Rol Calcife took the stage for the first time.

The crowd’s heckling was getting downright ugly.

But Riho was as calm as the spectators weren’t as they roared in a frenzy. With too much running through her mind, her eyes were locked on Rol.

“My, aren’t you scary,” Rol purred. She had the eyes of someone who’d thrown everything away.

“Let’s settle this, Rol.”

“You’ve got no chance of winning, not one in a million. You had the misfortune of finding yourself under the tutelage of an incompetent fool who was never good at anything but outdated healing spells. If you’d at least had a reputable mage…”

Riho interrupted before she could say another word. “And that healing magic is gonna leave you in tears, Rol.”

Rol’s eyes widened for a second before she flashed a grin, baring her fangs. Her haughty demeanor was a thing of the past. “All talk, eh. Seems that’s the only thing that’s gotten better.”

The ref saw his chance and started the match. “The Continental Student Sorcery Tournament finals! Begin!”

The instant the match began, blue fireworks whizzed up from the center of the stage.

On one side, there were bolts of lightning. On the other, flames.

Both spells fired at once and crashed into each other hard enough to shake the entire hall.

Neither took so much as a step to one side—just firing spell after spell after spell.

Now, this was a sorcery tournament! The crowd’s cheers were every bit as loud as the roar of the spells.

They were evenly matched.

For now.

“Uh-oh. Poor Riho’s gonna lose…,” Choline muttered, crossing her arms.

“Wh-what? I thought she was doing fine!” Selen said in surprise.

“Don’t forget about Rol’s rotten personality. You think she’d just go for a head-on assault? She’s baiting Riho into running outta magic.”

“Oh…because this isn’t Riho’s first fight!” Lloyd observed, looking worried. “While Rol came in at full strength…”

Riho was definitely starting to sweat. For the first time, she started moving around the stage.

Seeing her back off from the shoot-out, Rol smirked, certain her plan was working.

“Already getting low on magic? Geez, that mithril arm is so inefficient!”

Without giving Riho a chance to rest, she kept blasting fire spells at her.

Riho shot back, but the bolts were getting thinner. Her magic was dropping, making her chants less on point—she was clearly at a disadvantage.

Seeing her exhausted, Rol broke off her furious volley. “You’re done for. Why not just surrender?”

“No way!” Riho barked back, defiant.

Realizing Riho still had plenty of fight left in her, Rol returned to chanting. “This is getting boring… I’ll finish you with my next shot.”

Flaring in unprecedented size, flames coiled around Rol’s hand.

“How’s…oh?”

Riho’s reaction took Rol by surprise.

When Rol started channeling the fire, Riho had started to chant, too—but not a lightning spell.

“Heal!”

It was a healing spell. It seemed to be a slow one, as the wounds on Riho’s body were healing gradually.

“My, my, healing yourself?”

What for? Rol and the audience were wondering the same thing.

“You have some plan that will help you win a battle of endurance? Or is it just a bluff?”

She was trying to get a rise out of Riho, but Riho didn’t give her one. She just used the mithril arm to stack the healing effect.

“Whatever. No use trying to guess what goes through your head…”

Rol let the fire around her hand go out and started chanting a different spell.

With a serpentine smile, fangs bared, she shouted, “I’ll just make your trump card useless!”

Strong winds billowed out from her feet. Rol hadn’t moved a step away from her starting position this whole time, but now she was suddenly right in front of Riho.

“Wha—?!” Riho yelped, completely unprepared for this burst of speed.

She must have used the wind to launch herself—

And it took Riho a moment to realize that, an opening Rol used to get in close.

With a grin wide enough to see the inside of her lips, both Rol’s hands grabbed hold of the mithril arm.

“Checkmate, slowpoke,” she hissed.

There was a crack, and the mithril hand came off. The shell fell away, leaving her thin, badly burned arm exposed.

“h!” Riho let out a voiceless scream, and the magic stored in the mithril vanished, leaving a shimmer of heat.

Rol shot her a satisfied smirk. “I’m the one who put it on you. I know how to get it off.”

The mithril arm hit the ground with a clang.

Her trump card was gone.

Everyone present knew right then that Riho had lost.

And Rol herself knew she’d won. She grinned ecstatically—waiting to savor the look of dismay and watching Riho’s face with anticipatory interest.

But Riho was grinning every bit as maliciously as Rol was.

“Thought you’d do that… Of course you’d want to kill the mithril arm. And…”

“Hmm?”

“…I was waiting for it! For you to get too close to protect yourself!”

“What in the—? No use bluffing now—”

“My trump card…is this arm!”

Riho’s hand struck the side of Rol’s face as hard as she could.

It wasn’t a metal limb, just an ordinary girl’s right arm—but the hit sounded like a thunderclap.

Smoke rose. Vibrations shook the earth.

Rol and Riho went rolling across the stage like their cars had crashed. Their resistance equipment minimized the damage, but the impact was still severe. Neither of them seemed capable of getting up.

Rol seemed to have hurt her legs. She managed to sit up but got stuck there.

This really rattled her. Her confidence had been blown away with the shock wave.

“What happened? What was that?!”

The crowd was wondering the same thing. All eyes peered through the smoke to Riho.

Somewhere in the stadium, someone let out a scream, and a stir ran through the stands.

“…Shit, that hurts.”

Riho was lying on the ground…and one arm, the healthy one, had been blasted so hard you could see bone—like her fist had been the center of the explosion.

Sweat running down her face, Riho grinned. “What were you saying about outdated healing magic? This shit works, you know!”

“What are you—?”

“But you gotta be careful. If you don’t realize there’s something in the wound, the healing magic will seal it under your skin. You might not be able to tell from the outside, but you can get gravel or bits of wood stuck in you. Or even…magic stones.”

Only then did Rol finally realize what had happened.

She gulped. “Y-you mean…you implanted a magic stone in your arm?!”

Just as Phyllo had been punching people with magic stones, this was a primitive way of fighting, without a need to chant or deploy any kind of spell. But to implant a magic stone in your own hand and disguise what was inside with healing magic…

“And, well, you always did mock healing magic, so I figured it’d be a nice surprise.”

Would you really go that far to win? Would you slice your own arm open and hollow out your own blood and sinew?

“Is this…a suicide mission? Are you ready to take us both down?”

“No, no, I had a plan for that!” Riho hopped to her feet, looking totally fine, even though she had clearly taken more damage than Rol.

What’s going on? When she figured it out, Rol gasped aloud.

Not only was the bone no longer exposed, the wound itself was gone… A layer of skin was already beginning to regenerate.

“Just to be sure, I stacked several layers of a slow heal spell on myself. Didn’t help with the pain, but…”

By the time Riho finished walking over to Rol, her body was totally healed.

“I…I thought you were wasting your time, but…this is why you cast all those healing spells?” Unable to get up, Rol was left grabbing dirt on the ground.

“How’s that for turned tables, Rol Calcife?”

Rol realized it wasn’t the injuries but fear that kept her frozen to the ground.

For the first time, she was afraid of Riho Flavin.

“But this match ain’t over yet, is it?” Riho asked, leaning over her, grinning.

Looming like a ghoul, her dead limb dangling—still intact, but clearly not functional—Riho started to chant.

“From your land, I wish not to summon a torrent—”

Rol flinched at the ominous words. “Wait, that’s—!”

“My words act as an offering—”

“That’s advanced magic…!”

“As one who does not wish to take on malice—”

“W-wait, don’t! Stop! You already blew all my resistance gear off!”

“Heed my will—”

“S-see, I can’t even walk! I can’t fight! I give up!”

But the ref had been blown out of the ring by the explosion and couldn’t hear her.

“Deluge, thy name is—”

“S-seriously, stop! Not yet! I don’t want to die! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything, just don’t—”

Rol’s pleas could be heard over the roar of the crowd.

“TIDAL WAVE!” Riho roared, right in her ear.

“Noooooooooooooooooooo!” Rol let out a shriek, her eyes rolled up, and she fainted, foaming at the mouth.

“There’s no way I can cast advanced spells… I mean, I’m already out of magic.”

Riho took one parting glance down at her former sister figure.

“Well…I guess you’re the reason I got so good at lying.”

Then she threw her good arm in the air, signaling her victory.

The applause nearly split the hall in two.