kscans

Chapter 116 - The Main Selection Tournament, Fourth Match

"It's not looking good."

"Huh...?"

Just before the fourth match—my fight against the [Sword Protector]. I'd met up with Sora in the room that had become our private waiting room, courtesy of Lotta, and the first thing out of my mouth was a conclusion born of weakness.

"The matchup is just too bad... If I attack recklessly, I could be turned to dust in an instant."

"Well, I... I can't say anything irresponsible, given who your opponent is, but..."

Sora must have already known about him. I was aware that I was saying something pathetic, but her reaction was also along the lines of, "Well, as expected..."

"...Um, but still."

As she spoke, Sora scooped up my hand and looked up at me.

Reading the expectation in her eyes, I couldn't help but smile wryly and nod in return.

"I don't intend to go in there planning to lose. I've been saving a lot of tricks up my sleeve for this, so I'll do my best to give him a real shock."

And if I'm lucky—...Nah, that's probably asking for too much.

Even though I've been relying heavily on surprise tactics, I've managed to win my way this far. I'm starting to have some confidence in my own abilities—but there are limits to everything.

Even though it's a recently installed, makeshift understanding, the Rankers of Arcadia are like top athletes in the real world.

If I were asked if I, with my half-baked skills, could suddenly stand on their level... I'm not arrogant enough to nod without hesitation.

—Honestly, I'm trembling.

[Sword Protector] Irori... a celestial being, known even in the real world.

The fact that I am the one who will face and challenge such a person. My sense of reality, my resolve, my confidence—none of it is nearly enough.

—The fourth match of the selection tournament will begin shortly.

Still... yeah, that's right. It's still not enough.

"Sora."

I looked back into her amber eyes, which held unwavering faith in me. It's truly heartwarming—and it makes me want to live up to it so badly.

"I'm gonna go wild—just watch me."

"...Yes! Do your best!"

If this girl has expectations for me... then there's no way I can't put on a good show, right?

◇◆◇◆◇

"...Seriously?"

This is what I get the moment I enter the arena? The match hasn't even started yet.

Amidst the deafening cheers that sounded like a roar, I stood there dumbfounded, not even in the mood for a wry smile.

Everywhere I looked, there were people. People, people, people—a massive crowd of spectators, so many I couldn't even begin to guess the number. I've never actually seen one, but is this what a concert at the Budokan is like? That's the feeling I got.

It looked like there were no less than a four-digit number of players packed in here, and it was obvious what they had all gathered to see.

"—Hey, it's nice to meet you. The much-anticipated super rookie."

"...Y-You're too kind."

This was my third time on the colosseum stage. In the previous three matches, both my opponents and I had waited at opposite ends for the signal to begin—but now, the person who had walked right up to me and was smiling was the same handsome, blond-haired, blue-eyed man I had just been looking at on my phone screen.

[Sword Protector] Irori—seventh in the Istia rankings, a swordsman whose strength lies in his absolute defense.

"I've heard about you from others, so I was looking forward to meeting you."

"...You're too kind."

Damn it, all I can manage is the kind of response an ordinary person would give when meeting a celebrity—no, it's not like that, it is that. There's no way I can act natural!!

He chuckled at my obvious stiffness and casually extended his right hand.

"No need to be so tense—I'm expecting great things, so show me what you've got."

"—Tch...!"

This was a first for me. Feeling like I was about to be pushed back by words alone.

His features were so refined they could almost be described as androgynous, and his gentle smile could disarm anyone, man or woman—but what he exuded was, without a doubt, the pressure of a warrior.

With that pressure piled on top of my nervousness, I was about to freeze up even more—but then I glanced to the side, punched myself hard in the chest, and snapped myself out of it.

Don't just stand there frozen, you coward. Don't forget who's watching.

My eyes caught sight of a small figure with golden hair swaying in the special seats, and I swallowed the unnecessary emotions that were clouding my thoughts.

I just decided I was going to act cool—it doesn't matter who my opponent is.

"...Nice."

I kicked away my nervousness and fear and grasped the offered right hand. When I met his gaze directly, the smiling [Sword Protector]'s lips curled up in amusement.

"My apologies, I was scared out of my mind for a second there... I'll show you the full power you're hoping for, so please, feel free to expect great things."

"I'd be delighted—I'm looking forward to it."

—The fourth match of the selection tournament will now begin.

The countdown began. As I released his hand and watched the [Sword Protector] turn on his heel, I exhaled the breath that was growing hotter and hotter, like venting heat.

My nervousness hasn't gone away.

My resolve is still lacking.

There's no way I can just brush it all off so easily.

To move my body from here on out, all I have to fuel it with is sheer stubbornness.

No matter how big the wall is, there are three people I can't afford to look pathetic in front of. How could I ever face them if I lost because I was too scared?

As the countdown approached zero, I forced my virtual heartbeat to calm down, synchronizing with it.

The roar that had been shaking my eardrums faded into the distance, and the color of the world subtly changed.

Reaching for that feeling I've experienced in every life-or-death battle so far—my vision focused on one thing only: the 'enemy.'

Yeah, not bad.

The [Sword Protector] drew the katana sheathed at his waist. Just as the intel said, it was a magnificent blade, glowing with a bluish tinge. The tip of the blade was pointed straight at me, and behind it, his narrowed blue eyes urged me on.

"Right then—I guess it's time for a little demonstration."

With my right hand, I grasped the hilt of the shortsword that had long been just a decoration at my waist.

Without hesitation, I drew it in a single motion. The crimson-scarlet blade that emerged scraped against the black-lacquered scabbard, letting out a high-pitched ring.

[Rabbit Shortsword: Parabellum]—the blade of this shortsword was no ordinary thing.

From the middle to the tip, it tapered like a stiletto, a shape that could be seen as unsightly depending on how you looked at it.

Its crimson core seemed to sway and writhe, and its crimson-scarlet edge glittered as it caught the light.

It had a 2:1 blade-to-hilt ratio and a guardless hilt.

This feather-light blade—nevertheless, it radiated enough informational pressure to make the Title Holder facing me narrow his eyes.

Countdown 3—I inhaled and held my breath.

Countdown 2—I didn't take a stance with the drawn shortsword, just let it hang by my side.

Countdown 1—I raised my empty left hand. Fingers spread, I brought it up above my right shoulder, and—

Countdown zero—the sound was still distant, only the vibration of the opening system call and the cheers reaching me through the air. In accordance with them,

"—Parabellum Bullets!!"

With a single swing of my left hand, a multitude of 'crimson' projectiles soared through the air—and the battle began.