The individual battle finals would begin in less than an hour. According to the tournament officials, today's spectator turnout was at an all-time high. With that, the stalls and betting operations set up in the venue naturally saw more customers, and the higher-ups couldn't stop laughing all day long.
"Tenma, are you nervous?"
My old man, who was here as my second, noticed that I'd been silent and assumed I was nervous, so he spoke up.
Normally, individual battles didn't allow seconds, but for the finals alone, one second was permitted. The stated reason was to protect the finalists from nobles' aggressive recruitment attempts and to let the participants focus on the tournament, with the second handling personal affairs.
"No, I'm not nervous. I just haven't really faced opponents smaller than myself in one-on-one fights before, so I was thinking about what kind of approach would work best."
This was true. Every opponent I'd fought until now had been either larger than me or about the same size. That was because many of them had underestimated me for being young and tried to take advantage of that.
"Well, I suppose that's true... I'm not exactly big myself, so I've hardly ever brawled with someone smaller than me either. But if I had to say objectively, the girl has you beat in power and agility, while you have her beat in everything else. In other words, as long as you fight normally, you have the advantage, Tenma."
What the old man meant by "normally" was "including magic." And he was right about that.
But fighting exactly the way he suggested would be boring. This was a serious match, but it was also a kind of festival. If I had room to spare, why not enjoy myself a little?
"From the looks of it, you don't seem inclined to use magic straightforwardly... Very Tenma-like, I suppose, or how should I put it..."
The old man read my thoughts and let out an exasperated voice.
"Well, whatever. I believe you'll win, Tenma... So fight hard for the sake of my pocket money!"
Saying that, he pulled a betting slip from his robe to prove he'd wagered on me. A rough calculation showed it was worth about one million gold—my odds were around 1.2, so if he won, he'd net about two hundred thousand gold.
"You're betting on me, huh... Well, I've got a bet in too. But that's not important. Old man, help me warm up for a bit."
At my words, the old man pulled off his hood. Incidentally, the old man had a body that didn't match his age. He was muscular and lean, without any excess fat. And he was quite strong—when it came to fistfighting, not magic combat.
His strength wasn't all that impressive given his age, but the old man was essentially a technical fighter. He relied on counters, joint locks, and throws—fighting that didn't require much raw power. Under no-magic conditions, he could even suppress me.
So recently, not just me, but Jeanne, Aura, and even Aina had been learning fighting techniques and self-defense from him. It was no idle claim that he possessed the God of War's Blessing.
After that, the old man and I sparred lightly, working up a sweat and warming our bodies. A staff member who'd come to check on me was startled to see the old man and me engaged in high-level sparring, rubbing his eyes repeatedly to confirm what he was seeing.
"Participant Tenma. It's almost time."
Called by the staff member, the old man and I headed to the arena.
On the way to the arena, I listened to the staff member's briefing and deposited my bag.
The entrance I was guided to was different from the one I'd used before. It was positioned directly opposite the royal viewing seats and was more than twice as wide as the previous corridor.
"Please wait here for a moment. Participant Amour will arrive shortly, and you'll enter together."
This tournament had originally been a victory prayer event, so the finals were designed to put the competitors' faces front and center for the royals. This was likely part of that performance.
"Participant Amour, over here please."
"Mm."
It seemed Amour had arrived right after I had, since I could hear footsteps approaching from quite close. I turned to get a look at her face—and found a tiny girl standing there. Well, it wasn't that Amour was any different from her normal self; it was just that she wasn't in her Bandit King form... but there was something strange about it.
And standing behind Amour as her second was a familiar man.
"Yo, kid!"
The man raised his hand with a savage grin on his face. His name was Branca—the man I'd defeated. He was also, incidentally, the opponent who'd given me the hardest fight in this tournament.
"Are you healed up, Branca? And why are you acting as Amour's second? Because you're both tiger beastkin?"
I replied to Branca's overly familiar greeting, and Branca laughed—his expression still as fierce as ever.
"Ha ha ha. The injuries are all healed! As for being her second, the lady and I have known each other for a while. Since I lost to you, I happened to have free time, so I took up the role of her second."
The claim about being fully healed was probably half a lie, but walking around seemed fine.
While I was talking with Branca, Amour suddenly squeezed in between us.
And then she stared at me... That's when I noticed something.
"Hey... you've got drool running down your face."
Amour turned around at my comment, hurriedly wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and then faced me again.
"I'm the one fighting you, not Branca."
It seemed Amour didn't appreciate me chatting it up with Branca instead of focusing on her, my actual opponent.
"Right, sorry. I'm Tenma. Nice to meet you."
I apologized sincerely and extended my hand.
"Mm. Amour. Nice to meet you."
Amour nodded and shook my hand. Just as we finished the handshake, the time had apparently arrived, because the previously closed door opened wide.
When the door was fully open, the first thing visible was the royal viewing seats directly ahead. The King and all the royal family had risen to their feet, looking our way.
We were guided forward by the staff member, and the applause erupted. At first, it was directed at Amour and me, but once the spectators noticed the old man and Branca following behind us, the applause grew even louder with thunderous cheers.
When the four of us reached the center of the Fighting Stage, the old man and Branca bowed and withdrew. Apparently, this was a leftover tradition—carrying your second along like a retainer, then having them leave from this point on so that it was just the two combatants.
Once the seconds had withdrawn, the King descended the stairs to a position near the arena, lightly raised his hand, and signaled for the audience to quiet down.
"You have both fought well to reach the finals. I've heard that neither of you has yet reached adulthood. As the ruler of this kingdom, I am delighted to see such young competitors in this arena. No matter who wins, this match will go down in history. Both of you, engrave that in your hearts and fight without regret! Individual Battle Finals—begin!"
As the King finished speaking, the hushed audience erupted with renewed fervor.
Immediately after, Amour and I took distance and faced each other.
Then we both reached into our bags and drew our weapons.
Amour's weapon was the same type of axe she'd used in her fight with Jin. However, the color was different—a deeper black than when she'd used it against Jin. It was probably made of magic iron.
In response, I drew the Adamantine sword that Lord Ernest had given me.
The sight of the sword drew a massive roar from the crowd. It seemed they were anticipating an intense battle based on our weapons alone.
In contrast to the audience's excitement, several nobles wore disappointed expressions.
They probably knew who had owned this sword before, and were likely assuming I'd already been hired by
Lord Ernest.
"Individual Battle Finals! Tenma versus Amour—begin!"
The finals had finally started. The moment I raised my sword, Amour's body blurred.
It was the same movement Branca had used to shatter my arm. However, due to the weight of the weapon, it was slightly slower than Branca's version. Since this was my second time seeing the technique, I had enough leeway to handle it.
I brought my sword down from high guard to intercept Amour's horizontal slash.
However, while the speed was slower than Branca's, the weight behind the attack surpassed his. Because of that, having expected an attack on par with Branca's, I was sent flying by Amour's strike.
Being blown away left me in quite a vulnerable position, but fortunately, Amour's stance had also been disrupted. Additionally, I'd been launched farther than expected, creating a good amount of distance between us—so there was no follow-up attack.
If you only looked at that single exchange, it seemed like I'd been overpowered, but in reality it was just the difference in weapon momentum. I wasn't particularly bothered by it. Besides, I'd properly blocked it with my sword, so the damage wasn't significant.
"Besides, she probably can't pull that off consecutively..."
As expected from Branca's ace technique—it seemed Amour's small body couldn't repeat it.
Moreover, the more distance there was between the two fighters, the easier the technique was to read and counter. At the distance between Amour and me now, she shouldn't have been able to use it.
However, if things stayed this way, I'd be stuck on the defensive too often. So I decided to take the plunge and close in on Amour for close-quarters combat.
It was a hastily improvised plan, but I'd tried to replicate Branca's technique several times myself, so I could manage to some extent.
If this devolved into a mirror match of that technique, I'd be at a disadvantage. But using it as a surprise attack proved effective at catching her off guard, and I managed to seize the initiative.
"From this distance, you can't use that technique, right?"
I closed to within barely two meters of Amour and swung my sword. Not to be outdone, Amour swung her axe, and from there a clash of heavy weapons began.
For the next several minutes, the exchange continued without either of us moving from the spot. In terms of number of strikes I had the edge, but there was a significant gap in weapon mastery. Amour, who was accustomed to wielding the axe, would deflect two or three of my attacks and then unleash a devastating blow.
Neither of us had a finishing move, and eventually Amour tried to create distance.
I judged this to be a mistake and stepped forward, matching her movement with a sword swing. But—
"Too slow."
Amour suddenly burst forward with an acceleration, dodging backward. My sword cut through empty air.
"Got you."
In a quiet voice, Amour launched a sharp strike aimed at my midsection.
—This is bad! That blow clearly had enough force to take me out of the fight!
"Gotta make it—!"
I released my sword in an instant, reinforced my hands with Magic Power, and clamped them around the blade of the axe. Then, rather than resisting the axe's momentum, I threw myself sideways.
It was a desperate gamble, but I won the bet and managed to minimize the damage.
Once the axe's momentum died, I planted my feet on the ground. Before the stunned Amour could react, I tried to wrench the axe from her grip and fling it away.
However, at the exact moment I tried to throw, Amour pulled back with even more force. So I was forced to let go.
Amour, suddenly losing all resistance, nearly toppled backward.
"Ha!"
Seizing the opening, I threw a punch.
That strike was just about to connect with Amour's face when her arm inserted itself at the last possible moment.
But the defense was insufficient—my fist broke through her arm and connected with her face.
Amour toppled backward, but she used the momentum to roll and spring back to her feet.
The moment she stood, Amour adopted a posture ready for my follow-up, but I prioritized picking up my sword instead. Once again, the flow of the fight was broken, and we reset to a neutral position.
I readied my sword and glared at Amour. She raised her axe—her weapon taller than she was—and took her stance. I marveled at what kind of power she was hiding in that tiny frame.
Then Amour charged first. This time it was a straightforward charge—she wasn't using Branca's technique—but the speed was still formidable.
If I took this hit, I'd likely be sent flying like before, so I focused on dodging. But Amour only feinted with the axe and charged in even harder.
"Hmph!"
With that cry, Amour threw not the axe but her fist.
I tried to cut down the Amour who'd entered my sword's range, but I hesitated for just an instant.
As a result, Amour's fist connected with my face, nearly sending me sprawling backward. She pressed the advantage with a follow-up, but I managed to twist out of the way of the second blow.
Having dodged the second strike, Amour tried to swing her axe, but my counter was faster.
Amour reflexively tried to block with the axe handle, but it was too late—my sword struck her side.
However, we were too close for me to generate the full power, and I couldn't knock Amour away.
Worse still, Amour grabbed onto my sword, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
There, the axe was raised overhead. Amour had shortened her grip on the handle to ensure the blade would land.
"Take this!"
Amour brought the axe down like a hammer. An instant before it fell, I grabbed Amour's shoulder and pulled her toward me, closing our bodies together.
And in the process, I headbutted her. A body shot followed, then an uppercut, and finally a sweeping leg takedown.
I slammed her hard into the ground, but before I could land the finishing blow, Amour rolled away and put distance between us.
However, she had dropped her axe, so I took the opportunity to kick it far away.
But the axe was heavier than I'd expected—it only flew about five meters.
"You're not going to surrender... are you?"
Amour was wobbling on her feet, but her eyes were sharper than before the match.
She clearly hadn't given up yet, and Jin had been defeated by Amour in this state, so I couldn't let my guard down.
As proof, a change began to surface in Amour's aura. Before, she'd still felt like a human, but now she was like a wild beast—similar to the feeling when Branca got serious.
"ROOAAARRR!"
Charging in a straight line without her axe, Amour came barreling toward me. It seemed she had no intention of defending herself.
I readied myself to counter her reckless charge, but Amour paid no mind and kept running.
I went for a diagonal slash, but Amour blocked it with her left arm as a shield.
"It doesn't... hurt!"
Amour was apparently reinforcing her left arm with magic, but from the feedback through the sword, there should have been at least hairline fractures in her bones. The pain twisting her face made it obvious she was gritting through it.
And then, using the left arm that should have been in agony, she grabbed my sword and punched with her right.
I tried to dodge the hand reaching for my face by pulling back, but just before I could avoid it, Amour extended her fingers, aiming for my eyes. As a result, the fingers missed my eyes but grazed my left temple, and blood began to flow.
The crowd gasped at my bleeding. Amour pressed her advantage and continued her assault, but I couldn't afford to yield the initiative.
I released the sword that Amour was gripping and made a feint as if to jab at her eyes with my right hand.
Amour's attention shifted to my extended fingers. I pulled my right hand back mid-motion and instead struck Amour's jaw with my left.
My left fist cleanly snapped Amour's head back, and for a moment it looked like she'd collapse—but before she could, she threw her arms around my body.
"Got... you!"
Amour locked her arms around me tightly and tried to lift me. I immediately dropped my weight to resist, but since Amour was smaller than me, she'd gotten underneath my center of gravity, and I couldn't plant my feet properly. I was lifted into the air.
And then she threw me sideways. Amour's throw was so forceful that I couldn't even get a proper breakfall before slamming into the ground. Worse, the moment I hit, Amour grabbed my leg and started spinning me around.
Despite spinning me with one hand, Amour showed no signs of strain.
She was probably the strongest in the tournament when it came to raw physical power alone.
I was nearly smashed into the ground several times, but each time I punched the ground with my magic-reinforced hand to cushion the impact. But that trick couldn't last forever.
On the umpteenth collision with the ground, I drove my fist hard into the earth, embedding it deep.
The embedded fist momentarily arrested my momentum, killing the rotational force Amour had been generating.
Using that opening, I launched into something like a backflip to wrench myself free.
But that alone wasn't enough for Amour to let go. Instead, she moved to wrap herself around my legs.
If this continued, she'd lock my ankle. Realizing this, I made my move before Amour could grab my legs—slamming myself into the ground.
Amour released her grip to brace against the impact, placing one hand on the ground—but that was exactly what I'd been aiming for.
The instant Amour's attention was on the ground and her hand touched down, I kicked her in the face with my free leg.
The kick connected flush. Amour couldn't hold on and released my leg.
She quickly put distance between us, which was actually a relief for me.
After all, I'd had to stretch my body from an awkward position just to stand, and if Amour had pressed the attack, I would have had to fight from a crouching stance.
Another reset, and we squared off at a distance.
From the outside, it might have looked like we were starting over from scratch. But Amour was heaving her shoulders with heavy breaths—the situation was steadily turning in my favor.
My body was grimy all over, with scrapes across my leather armor, but nothing critical. The cut on my temple had stopped bleeding.
Amour, on the other hand, looked about the same physically, but her face told a different story.
She was bleeding heavily from the nose, breathing with difficulty, and it was clear that the labored breathing was what made her pant.
Given the amount of blood, her nasal bone was almost certainly broken. Her nose also looked slightly crooked.
I was about to ask Amour if she wanted to surrender, but before I could, she pinched her nose, forcibly straightened it, and clenched tight.
The bleeding nearly stopped, and her breathing seemed to steady.
"I'm fine now. Let's continue..."
Amour gave me a slight bow. She'd probably mistaken my hesitation for waiting for her to treat her injuries, but in truth I'd just been shocked that a girl had fixed her own broken nose and stopped the blood on her own.
That said, I had been about to suggest surrender, so even if Amour hadn't taken the initiative to address her injuries, I wouldn't have attacked. I'd still missed an opening, though.
Among the spectators, some apparently interpreted my not attacking as a "gentlemanly act," and applause rose.
It was a little embarrassing, but I had no time to be flustered. Amour and I were each looking for an opening.
Our weapons had fallen in separate locations, out of reach.
Even if I wanted to pull a new weapon from my bag, there wasn't time for that.
That meant a bare-handed fight—which seemed to suit Amour just fine, as she stood ready to pounce at any moment.
Amour's nosebleed had stopped, and her ragged breathing had settled. There was no visible trace of magic, so either her recovery rate was extremely high, or there was some other explanation.
As someone with at least a passing knowledge of medicine, I was curious—but there was no time to think about that.
Shuffling closer with small, grinding steps, Amour finally entered my striking range. The instant she did—
"GROAAH!"
With a beast-like roar, Amour exploded into motion.
She swung her right arm down in a massive overhead strike, aiming to crush me. It came fast enough that if it had been a surprise attack, it would have landed clean. But I'd been expecting it.
After all, her aura had turned just like Branca's, and the two of them were clearly acquainted and friendly. I'd figured their fighting methods might share similarities—so I'd been ready with a counter.
Everything unfolded exactly as I planned. I pivoted into a half-stance, took a light step to evade, and swung a counterpunch with my left.
But from that point, two unexpected things happened in rapid succession.
First, Amour's attack was so sharp that it generated a wind-blade-like phenomenon, slashing across my arm. It was more of a graze than a cut, so the wound itself wasn't a big deal.
The real problem was the second thing: after swinging her arm down, Amour used the momentum to spin around completely.
That genuinely caught me off guard, and I pulled my punch back instead of following through.
"YAAAH!"
Amour's heel came flying at me. It was what you'd call a flying knee kick in professional wrestling.
I blocked with my left arm, but the force drove the guard straight through and into me.
Because Amour was small and light, she didn't flatten me completely, but it was still enough to crack my shoulder bone and force me to one knee. My left arm went numb.
"Nngh!"
Taking advantage of my kneeling, Amour reset her stance and followed up with a middle kick from her right leg.
I barely dodged by rolling out of the way. But Amour's attacks didn't stop.
She chased after the rolling me, trying to stomp me down.
After rolling several meters, I found an opening and used my momentum to spring to my feet.
Even then, Amour didn't let up—she launched a full body tackle.
I treated Amour like a vaulting horse, pushing off with one hand, flipping through the air, and landing.
When I landed, my aching shoulder throbbed even harder, but I gritted my teeth, put distance between us, and cast a healing spell on my shoulder. With no time to spare, I focused only on reknitting the bone and left the pain relief for later. That was the right call—Amour was closing in the instant the bone was repaired, so I cut off the healing and took a fighting stance.
From there, it devolved into a wild brawl. We stood our ground and traded blows.
But the slugfest didn't last long.
At the start, Amour's superior strength let her dominate with those devastating fists. But her technique wasn't particularly refined, and the accumulated damage was catching up—her wide swings and misses became more frequent as time went on.
I, on the other hand, focused on evasion and counter-punching, making sure Amour's blows didn't land clean.
Using ducking and sway to dodge, parrying Amour's punches away, and firing back with counters.
Between the shoulder pain and the risk of losing balance from overcommitting to a swing, I kept each punch small and precise, prioritizing accuracy over power.
I also drew on boxing techniques I vaguely remembered from television and books in my previous life.
Even rough approximations, practiced on a whim, brought back surprising memories from childhood.
In this world, such
techniques didn't exist, so even at a basic level, they were devastatingly effective. Boxing was specialized for hand-to-hand combat, and its effectiveness transcended worlds.
My fists, bolstered by techniques from my past life, connecting with Amour's increasingly sluggish face was only a matter of time.
And that moment arrived.
I'll add a brief note about the "gentlemanly act" that came up in the chapter.
The "gentlemanly act" as described in the story is from Tenma's perspective, measured by adventurer standards.
To the audience, it appeared that in a fight bordering on a death match, he'd given his opponent time to treat her injuries—hence the applause.
Many adventurers are fairly barbaric, so the audience saw Tenma not attacking Amour while she had a broken nasal bone as a rare gesture "for an adventurer." Tenma's mind was racing for something to describe the applause he'd received, and the closest word he could think of was "gentlemanly."