Chapter: 359
When I decided to gain experience in the arena, I set one restriction for myself.
Unless it’s a genuinely desperate situation, I wouldn’t use the Mesugaki Skill’s provocation ability.
The provocation ability of the Mesugaki Skill is so powerful that it can completely disrupt the balance. It affects not just people at my level but even those way stronger than me, up to the Evil God level!
And what’s it like when provoked? It obliterates a person’s rationality, making them act like NPCs in a game. They can’t help but move instinctively to teach a lesson to the arrogant brat right in front of them.
Of course, it doesn’t have infinite range. No matter how game-breaking a skill is, a person can resist it with their own power since it’s a type of debuff.
Just like how the Second Queen managed to keep her composure even in a fit of rage.
In other words, only someone as strong as the Second Queen can still think straight when their rationality evaporates.
But seriously, doesn’t Soladin’s taste seem a bit strange? The First Queen was a fearsome opponent even in the game. According to Benedict, the Second Queen would have been a tough lady if she hadn’t become a queen, leading the knights in her original family.
Strong women. Distorted desires.
…Could it be that Soladin laughed off Lucy’s insults because of that?
Ahem. Anyway, back to the main point. If I use this powerful skill recklessly in the arena…
Rather than getting used to the intense mind games over a matter of seconds while clashing weapons with others, I’d just be confirmed to be a rotten mess again.
So, unless urgent, I had planned to stick to silence and proceed with the fight.
[Look at that red face. Their rationality is clearly long gone.]
‘…Maybe they’re just a little heated?’
“I hope their skills match that arrogance.”
[Is it alright to use the word ‘just a little’ after hearing that voice filled with resentment?]
I couldn’t bring myself to rebut Grandpa’s words. The resentment I felt in my hands gripping the axe was anything but light.
Sigh. I guess I should just shut up and remain quiet. Otherwise, I don’t think there’ll be any answer to this.
[This is going to be fun!]
‘You mean my reputation’s getting wrecked in real time?’
Check out the crowd. They’re glaring at me like I’m a filthy wretch who deserves to die.
I guess it’s pretty annoying that a weakling like me picked a fight with Baldy…
[How do you see yourself? It’s not like that.]
‘Then what is it?’
[Why didn’t you just explain that earlier? People here worship the strong.]
‘Why’s that?’
[That means if you smash that bald guy, they'll flip their attitudes. Wouldn't that be quite amusing?]
Grandpa’s mischievous chuckle quickly infected me.
He was right. Imagining the bewildered faces of those who were hurling curses but were now scrambling for words was quite enjoyable.
“Are both sides ready?”
“Ready.”
‘Yep.’
“Can’t you tell? Are those things on your face just for show?”
“…Then I’ll start right away.”
As soon as the referee declared the duel open, Baldy – no, Baut – charged at me with ferocity.
He was clearly confident he could pin me down with his own power.
I could only watch his honest and foolish attack, which didn’t even deserve to hear about Iron Wall. I smiled and channeled the divine onto my shield.
With the might of a giant behind his downward blow, the attack was threatening enough to split a person like firewood.
A timid person would cover their eyes, imagining the horrid scene that would follow, but not me.
I knew that strike couldn’t even scratch my shield, so I boldly stood my ground.
Clang!
The moment my shield met the axe, I heard a gasp from the audience.
It wasn’t a shout of horror over the gruesome sight the axe created but rather a gasp of surprise at what a small kid could accomplish.
As I caught a glimpse of the bewildered eyes past the flung axe, my mouth itched to laugh, but I forced myself to hold it back.
If I kept talking, I felt like that bald guy might actually go nuts.
Ah, I ended up calling him Baldy again.
But what can I do? That hair glittering in the sunlight is just too eye-catching!
Even while my mind wandered with silly thoughts, my body didn’t miss a beat.
As I dodged Baut’s axe, I struck downwards, slamming my mace into his exposed waist, producing a sound of something breaking.
“Guh!”
Baldy gritted his teeth and endured the pain, but his body reacted differently. As his ribs shattered, his body wobbled under the weight of the axe, creating new openings.
Perfectly seizing that opportunity, I hoisted my mace again.
After smashing his knee to the ground, I swung down towards his face.
Seeing that, Baldy squeezed his eyes shut, as if predicting a horrific future, but his assumption was off the mark.
The mace, which was supposed to crush his face, came to a perfect stop just before it.
“Pfft.”
Seeing a bandit-like guy too scared to even open his eyes, I just couldn’t hold back my laughter.
I pushed Baldy over with the mace’s tip and turned my gaze toward the referee.
The referee, having met my gaze, shook himself free from his trance and urgently raised his voice.
“Winner! Lucy Allen!”
Even before the previous battle, people had been cheering for the victor. So why was it so quiet now? An audience at a play would probably make more noise than this.
“That’s my girl! Brilliant, Lucy!”
…
Heh.
Ah, just with Benedict shouting, the whole arena fills up. At this point, there’s no need for anyone else to compliment her.
*
Day 2 of the arena matches. The expression on Count Bardronel’s face, down below watching the weapons clash, was not good at all.
It wasn’t because of an accident. This round of matches went more smoothly than ever.
Those who came flocking at the mention of the Allen name wanted to put on a commendable show for their idol, resulting in smiles on the faces of those running the event.
It wasn’t because the arena’s draw had failed either. The audience seats showed not a single empty spot, with people spilling over into the aisles, showcasing just how much interest had gathered for this arena.
“Is that the daughter of the Allen family?”
“She’s so beautiful.”
“They say she’s incredibly strong? Doesn’t look like it.”
“Just watch. You’ll see.”
The only reason his expression was sour was that it was all due to Lucy Allen, the girl who had captured the audience’s focus just by showing up.
When Lucy entered the arena, Count Bardronel had never expected her to reach a high rank.
Rumors said she had overwhelming talent for her age, but she was still just a kid from Soladin who hadn’t even graduated from the academy.
There was no way she’d survive long amidst the strong of the Terasha Empire, who made a life of battle.
He thought it would be nice if she could hold out until she met his son, but even if she fell before that, he figured it’d make for a good laugh.
However, his expectations were shattered on the first day itself.
Baut, who had been performing decently with each entry, went down to Lucy without even landing a solid hit.
Those who hadn’t seen the match might chatter that it was merely luck, but Count Bardronel couldn’t possibly think so.
He’d seen Baut’s mighty blow bounce right off her shield.
He’d watched the mace come flying in and couldn’t help but gasp.
He’d involuntarily let out a noise as he witnessed the consecutive strikes.
Count Bardronel accepted that rumor about Lucy wasn’t exaggerated at all, and in fact, with all the fuss over her, she might have been underrated.
Separating personal emotions from the truth, the actions displayed by Lucy Allen must certainly be recognized.
After that, Lucy Allen continued to win.
Even as the one known for a plethora of spirits, Dial ended up losing hopelessly against Lucy’s shield after claiming the victory is all that matters.
Hanan, a noble from an illustrious household, managed to land a meaningful attack but ultimately faltered before her shield.
Gab, known for his prowess as a knight, tried to push through within the shield but fell prey to Lucy’s relentless recovery with her magic.
By the end of the first day’s last match, Count Bardronel was sure he had underestimated the bloodline of the Allen family.
“Oh, it seems the son of Count Bardronel and Lucy finally meet.”
“…Indeed.”
Though he forced a smile while watching his son walk into the arena, Count Bardronel’s mind was filled with anxiety.
Having observed Lucy Allen for the entire day, he couldn’t help but believe that she truly was the offspring of the Allen family, possessing overwhelming talent.
Unimaginable physical abilities for someone of her small stature.
A shield proficiency that had overwhelmed several participants.
A mace that could quickly deliver fatal strikes upon seizing an opportunity.
None of her qualities weren’t impressive. But the most frightening of all was her calmness.
Her arrogant and aggressive tone, the condescending look in her eyes, and the laughter that would boil one’s blood were often hard to read, but Bardronel had watched enough of her battles to be sure Lucy Allen’s true strength was grounded in her composure.
No matter who her opponent was, she never rushed into things.
She didn’t recklessly charge forward.
Her scene of perfectly orchestrating victory from behind her shield was something only a veteran knight would do, making it hard for Bardronel to be confident that his son could win.
Sure, his son’s physical abilities are superior.
He has far more battle experience.
So it should be his son who has the upper hand, yet how could he not envision his son winning?
“Damn it! That accursed shield!”
“Pfft. You look pretty desperate, huh? But what’s gonna change by acting all panicky? Swinging that sword like a kid playing knight isn’t gonna even scratch the shield!”
As the battle went on for a few minutes, Count Bardronel couldn’t bear to watch the humiliation of his son and ducked his head.
The result was obvious. As long as Lucy Allen was pulling the strings, all the advantages his son might have were rendered meaningless, and he’d tire out just bashing the shield.
“Give it your all. Maybe your sincerity will touch her heart enough that she’ll deliberately let you win. Right?”
“Shut it! My sword hasn’t even finished yet!”
“Does my voice bother you? Then why don’t you try to make me shut up? Can’t do it? Well then, just listen quietly. Like the sloppy person you are.”
As the battle grew increasingly lopsided, the once cheering Benedict began to cast wary glances at Count Bardronel.
“Uh, um… Count Bardronel, my daughter doesn’t have ill intentions. It’s just that during battle, emotions can run high.”
Each encouraging word only added to Count Bardronel’s lament, yet he forced a smile.
Benedict Allen was someone deserving of endless respect, after all.
“It’s all good. Count Bardronel, you don’t have to comfort me.”
“…But.”
“There’s no need for comfort when my son’s lacking and your daughter’s so outstanding.”
While Count Bardronel tried to appear calm, the outcome had already been determined. The winner was Lucy Allen, and sprawled on the ground was the eldest son of the Bardronel family.
“…Given how things have turned out, we should hope for your daughter to take first place.”
This was the sincerity of Count Bardronel. Proving her strength would lessen the humiliation headed for their family.
“I wish that too, but it seems difficult. My daughter is certainly a genius, but she still has a lot to work on.”
“No need to be humble. Allen Count.”
“No, no, Count Bardronel. This isn’t humility. I’m merely stating the facts.”
Typically, Benedict would be the one making noise to the point others might sigh in annoyance, but today was different.
With a cold stare, he carefully examined the match-up sheet.
That sheet contained a name—a name of someone he had once faced in combat.
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