I Said Make My Abilities Average! (LN) - Volume 3 - Chapter 23

Chapter 23:

A New Battle 

After those with the most severe wounds dropped out, fifty-one units remained in Viscount Boardman’s army, nine with minor injuries. Fifty-one versus the twelve of Pauline’s forces. 

The viscount himself did not count Pauline, Reina, or Theresa among Pauline’s numbers. Judging by the strong showing from the Count’s forces, the magic-users would not be a part of this fight. This battle was going to be decided with swords. 

Santos, of the royal guards, joined their forces as well, of his own accord. 

Still, speaking purely in terms of numbers, the viscount’s forces outstripped Pauline’s more than four-fold. If one analyzed the situation in terms of Lanchester’s laws, the odds of their winning were indescribably low. 

To start, situations where a very small number could beat back an overwhelming force were incredibly rare. Because they were so rare, any successful cases were widely heralded throughout the land. In other words, it was easy to prove that such things scarcely ever happened in reality. 

When such aspirational situations did come about, it was because one side had weapons that were phenomenally stronger than those of their opponents, a plan was in place ahead of time, or some other such advantage was at play. 

In this case, they had no special plan, their weapons were the same, and they were squaring off, face-to-face, with a group more than four times the number of their own troops. Not only was this not within the bounds of common sense, it was sheer madness. 

However, there were those among them who shattered the limits of so-called common sense on a regular basis. 

Indeed, just as a girl by the name of Kurihara Misato had shattered the balance of heaven and earth so very long ago. 

“Graaaaaaaaaaaaah!” 

Taking the lead, Count Austien charged forward into the enemy lines with a mighty roar. Following him, the count’s two sons and his subordinate knights rushed into the fray. 

Santos proceeded behind them, while Mile and Mavis, having allowed the others to take the vanguard, casually followed after them in turn. 

The mages stood by as spectators, but they had their spells prepared in advance. They were certain that the others would be fine, but it was better to be ready, on the off chance that they needed assistance. It was not a competition, after all. They would let off their spells when the moment came. Certainly, it was by their own choosing that the mages were not yet participating in this fight—not because of some promise to the enemy, or an obligation to honor the Count’s desires to settle this battle with swords alone. 

If it seemed that their friends or allies were about to take a loss, they would attack without hesitation. Just as they always did. 

And then, the count’s forces and the viscount’s forces clashed. 

A number of the viscount’s soldiers circled around from the sides, hoping to entrap the count’s forces; however, this maneuver was in vain. The count’s forces had already broken into the enemy’s front lines, and were pushing through to the other side. 

One after another, the viscount’s forces were blown away, as the count charged forth, magnificently wielding a sword in each hand. His two sons and his knights—along with Santos of the royal guard—were not to be shown up by the count’s ferocity, and swatted here and there, sending their enemies flying. The count’s fighters blasted through the enemy’s front lines, then turned about to face the soldiers once again. 

The viscount’s soldiers were startled at this sudden turnabout. They had been the ones attempting to come at their enemy from behind, and now, they hurriedly tried to launch a counterattack, only to be pounced upon, almost casually, by Mile and Mavis. 

They were suddenly pinned in place, trapped between the count’s group and the duo of Mile and Mavis. 

As Mavis matched blades with an enemy, she was stunned by her opponent’s skill and strength. Unthinkingly uttered, she spoke aloud: “…Th-they’re weak!” 

Yes, the viscount’s forces were incredibly weak. 

Any lord worth his salt should have the military forces to defend his fiefdom—in the same way the king had the royal guard. This particular viscount should have had top-class soldiers within his ranks. They should have easily been able to wipe out the count’s forces, as well as Mile and Mavis. 

The viscount’s forces should have been at least that good, shouldn’t they? 

So Mavis thought, but for the viscount’s forces themselves, this was a cruel way of framing the narrative. 

Indeed, it was not that the viscount’s forces were all that weak—it was that the count’s forces were too strong. That was all there was to it. And naturally, there was no way that Santos, of the royal guard, would be weaker than the soldiers belonging to some noble. 

And then, there were Mile and Mavis… 

On the one side, there were the soldiers belonging to the forces of a lesser noble. On the other, there were a martially renowned count and his sons, their personal knights, and a strong and virile knight of the royal guard, along with Mile and Mavis—who, of course, were an incomparable oddity. Honestly, they might as well have been a bunch of bullies. 

And then, the battle was over. 

The difference in the two forces’ strength was overwhelming enough that the victors had been able to hold back, ending the skirmish with no deaths and few serious injuries on the part of the losers—though their hearts were certainly shattered by such a decisive loss. 

Holding back like this required that there be a tremendous difference in ability. If their abilities had been matched, then they couldn’t have avoided fighting at full strength, and if that happened, then fatal injuries became almost inevitable. Yet with this refreshing difference in their strengths, that had not become necessary. 

“Now then, might I persuade you to take a trip with me, Viscount?” 

“Wh-what…? I have no reason to go along with this practical joke!” Startled by Santos’s sudden words, the viscount sputtered a refusal. 

“Up until a short while ago, the idea was that the members of the Order of the Crazy Broa… ahem, the Order of the Crimson Blood are operating independently, and not on anyone’s orders. The testimony of the men who are imprisoned in the capital pertains only to this merchant. Neither testimony nor accusation has been officially levied at you, Lord Boardman. One could say that you only came to investigate a disturbance within your own territory and attempted to apprehend the perpetrators…” 

Hearing this, the viscount looked as though he had suddenly understood the gist of the situation. 

“Hm, that’s a royal guard for you. How incredibly astute!” 

Santos, however, was not finished speaking. 

“That was the idea. But now, Viscount, you are a rebel who has ordered your subordinates to kill not only the Count and his party, but also an agent of the master of the capital guild branch—as well as myself: a direct, authorized representative of His Majesty, the king. In other words, you are a traitor to your country. Even if you are a noble, I cannot overlook such a serious crime.” 

“Wh…?” 

“You seem to have suffered a lapse in judgment. Well, I don’t deny that had you been able to kill everyone here, there was a possibility that you might have been able to take back control of this situation. However, I believe it would take an exceptional amount of time and money for you to amass a strong enough army to make that happen. Now then, Count, if you would…” 

Count Austien nodded at Santos’ request and directed his subordinates to apprehend Viscount Boardman, who was pale and quivering. He no longer had the will to resist, and silently allowed them to bind him. 

“I guess it’s over, then,” said Mile. 

“So it is.” 

“Yeah…” 

Reina and Mavis nodded in reply. 

Pauline stared at the ground, silent. 

Vengeance was now complete. It had been two and half years since her father had been murdered and everything stolen away, and the entirety of her life since then had been dedicated to the pursuit of vengeance. Now, they had won a complete—truly unimaginable—victory, and felled a black-hearted lord in the process. She would never have thought all this would be possible. 

Thanks to her companions—her friends—her dream had come true. 

“Pauline…” 

Noticing how Pauline’s shoulders trembled, Mile called out to her, but Reina gently held her back. 

And as Pauline looked down at the ground beneath her feet, dark drops began to appear. 

“Now then, while the viscount is restrained, let us gather some evidence. We must confirm whether the viscount’s wife, son, relatives, or associates were accomplices to his crimes, mustn’t we?” Count Austien proposed. 

“Yes, that is correct,” Santos agreed. 

The results of this investigation would have an enormous effect on determining the fate of the Boardman family assets. On the one hand, they might be dismantled, but on the other, it was possible that one of the viscount’s children or relatives would be instated as the head of the family in order to continue the noble line. Even if he had a legitimate heir, if any of that heir’s associates turned out to be rotten, then the entire upper ranks would need to be replaced. And that was in addition to rooting out any associated merchants. 

Along with his two sons and his guards, the count started to turn toward the viscount’s estate, but stopped, and turned to Mavis. “The guard wagon from the capital will be arriving in two days’ time. We will hand over the criminals then, and three days after, we shall return to our estate. Enjoy these final days with your friends.” 

“Huh…?” 

Mavis looked on, bewildered, hardly comprehending what she had just been told. 

“This shop will most likely be returned to the girl’s family. And then, in the time to come, her family will need to conserve their strength to protect the place—the beloved shop that her father left behind. In other words, your days of playing ‘Mavis, the adventuring hero’ are through. And furthermore, Mavis, you must complete the bridal training lessons that you abandoned when you ran off!” 

“That is completely UNNECESSARY!!!” Mavis, Ewan, and their older brother all shouted in unison. 

“Mavis has no need to prepare herself for marriage!” 

“That’s right! Mavis will always be by our—” 

“No, that’s not it…” 

It was not because she wished to remain single for the rest of her life that Mavis had objected to the Count’s plan, which meant that she also had to protest at her brothers’ interjections. 

“In any case, who knows when danger such as the one that befell you here might come upon you again? This is the last time that I will tolerate your little games. If you want to play at being a knight, then I might be willing to let you train—now and then—around our estate. Basic self-defense is required, after all, of the wife of a noble, for the sake of both you and your children. 

“Well, we shall discuss the details of this tomorrow. For now, enjoy the day with your friends.” 

With these words, the count collected his sons and his underlings, then departed. 

Once the count’s party was gone, the Crimson Vow turned their backs on the crowd, which was still abuzz with chatter, and returned to their inn. 

Santos and Theresa had joined the Count, heading for the viscount’s estate. Naturally, this was part of their duties. 

“…………” 

This was someone’s future they were talking about—someone who was their precious companion, and furthermore, the daughter of a powerful noble. It was not a topic of conversation they could just shoot their mouths off about. 

Yet keeping silent about it would not see anything settled, and Mile was the first to set the gears in motion. 

“So, Mavis, what are you going to do?” 

“Refuse, of course!! I still haven’t accomplished anything at all! Am I just supposed to give up everything and go live my life in some cage?!” 

Mavis was half in tears. 

Pauline, who should have been happy now that her family’s problems were solved, felt responsible. She hung her head in silence at the notion that her joy had come at the cost of Mavis’s strife. 

Reina’s mind was on the reality of the situation: if both Pauline and Mavis left, the Crimson Vow would be no more. She hung her head too, her expression dark. 

Even if she and Mile were to recruit new members, they would never be equal to their classmates, the allies who fought and learned alongside them, the “allies bound at the soul, sworn to each other in eternal friendship.” They could no longer call themselves the Crimson Vow. They would have to change their name, and start out again as a new party. 

Plus, if that happened, there was a chance that Mile might not even come along. 

They were a party of classmates—of roommates—so of course, she had joined them without any objections. If it was Reina alone, and Mile suddenly saw her as nothing more than “someone who just happened to be my roommate, out of a class of forty,” then that was far too weak a reason for Mile to stay with her. 

Plus, mightn’t any new members covet Mile’s abilities? Or, wouldn’t Mile start getting invitations from higher-ranking parties? Wouldn’t the Roaring Mithrils have her join them without a second thought? For Mile, that would be a far better… 

Yet Mavis, the daughter of a noble family, had a life of her own, and certain duties to fulfill as someone born into a noble household. Hers was not the sort of problem that Reina could simply overpower with her own concerns. 

When she thought about it that way, there was not a thing that Reina could say. 

And so, silence fell upon them once more… 

“Well then, let’s just turn Mavis’s family away!” 

“Huh?” 

Mavis, Reina, and Pauline all gaped at Mile’s sudden, unexpected proposal. 

“What? I mean, none of us wants Mavis to return to her home, right? Um, am I wrong? Umm… Anyone who thinks it would be better if Mavis stayed with the Crimson Vow, raise your hand!” 

Ping! Ping! Ping! 

All of their hands, including Mile’s, shot straight up. 

They all turned to look at each other’s faces. 

“Then it’s settled.” 

As she said so, Mile’s face lit up with a wicked grin. 

Pauline smiled too. Before, she had been wallowing in her own sense of guilt for bringing this situation about by drawing her friend’s into her own family’s problems. But really, she realized, all they had to do was drive Mavis’s father away. It was a simple matter, wasn’t it? 

Even as she thought to herself, Shouldn’t I object to this? Reina’s eyes sparkled. 

“B-but how?! My father won’t listen to anything anyone has to say…” 

Mile grinned wide and replied, “There’s a saying in my home country: Know thy enemy, and know thyself, and in a hundred battles thou shalt never know fear… ” 

It was the first time they had ever heard this saying, but all of them were experienced in battle. They could easily fill in the blanks. 

“We know a lot about you, Mavis. And about your family as well…” 

“Ah!” 

Reina and Pauline both understood. 

Only Mavis still stared blankly, obviously in the dark. 

It seemed she did not realize how many times she had told them tales of her family in the over half a year that they had been together. 

Indeed, Mile, Reina, and Pauline all knew quite a bit about Mavis’s family. Perhaps more than anyone but the members of the family themselves. 

*** 

“What? You’d like for me to train with you, Father? No, I’ll have to pass. That won’t help me improve myself any—” 

“Wh-what?” 

The next morning, the count returned, proposing once more to take Mavis back home with him. Mavis, however, refused his offer with a grimace, leaving the count wide-eyed. 

“Wh-what are you saying?” 

“Well, it’s just as I said… You’re nowhere near my master’s level, Father.” 

“Wh…?” 

Before her father’s expression could morph into anger, the look on his face was one of utter shock. 

Her two brothers and the other knights all looked on in bewilderment. 

Count Austien was an accomplished individual, renowned throughout the land for his martial prowess. There was no teacher of swordsmanship anywhere in the vicinity who could hope to best him. Therefore, if Mavis wished to grow stronger, it only made sense that he would be the one to train her. He had offered to as a bribe, and yet this was her reply. 

Once he had recovered from his surprise, the count, who assumed that Mavis was only spewing nonsense out of desperation, chuckled internally. Now, he knew he had a way to bring his stubborn daughter back home peacefully. If he could show Mavis just how weak her so-called master was, and prove that she hadn’t really grown all that strong, then the grounds on which she objected to his plan would be completely dashed. He didn’t want Mavis to be angry or to hate him. If possible, he wanted his daughter to consent to returning home of her own accord, so he felt he had been tossed a lifeline. 

“Oho! Well then, you must have quite an illustrious master. If they’re really so strong, I should like to face them in one-on-one combat. If this person is truly stronger than I am, and you can prove to me that you have been earnestly following their teachings, then I will have no objection to you continuing with your training. However, if this is all just bluster, then I hope that you will quietly…” 

“Understood! If you lose, Father—and, hmm, if I can win against First Brother—then we’ll quit this talk of my returning home, and you’ll let me live however I choose! And everyone gathered here can serve as witnesses to that fact!” 

“Wh…?” 

The count, his two sons, and the attendant knights once again appeared to be utterly taken aback at Mavis’s declaration. A satisfied grin had spread across her face. 

The count, who should have been pleased with the way the discussion of Mavis’s return home was proceeding, had a bad feeling about all this. Perhaps it was his intuition as a tactical genius… 

“No! If that happens, then I shall invite this master to reside with us…” 

Even if it seemed cowardly, or made their loved ones hate them, it was the job of family to take precautionary measures in order to keep their relatives out of danger, no matter how faint that possibility of danger might be. 

“No. My master is not one to be tied down to a single household’s whims. You’re only saying this because then I would naturally come along as well. Or, Father, could it be that you are not confident that you’ll win?” 

“All right… Have it your way! When shall we hold the match?” 

“Tomorrow evening, after we have handed over the viscount and the merchant. In this town’s arena.” 

“What? Will your master be able to make it here in time? Well, that’s fine. I accept. Tomorrow evening. You had better enjoy this final evening with your companions as best you can.” 

He had given in to Mavis’s provocation. Though he was no longer entirely confident in his own victory, the count was not truly shaken. He did not know who this person was that he would face, but there was almost no way he could possibly lose to some no-name teacher who would spend their time on a rookie hunter pupil. That much he was sure of. 

And, on top of that, there was no way that Mavis could win against his eldest son. Even if miracles did exist in this world, they never happened one right after the other. That much he believed. 

“Mile, are you sure this is gonna be alright?” 

The moment the count departed, Mavis’s face, which had been shining with confidence, morphed instantly into an expression of unease. 

“That all depends on you, Mavis. Now then, let’s go!” 

And so, the girls headed to the town arena. 

Any reasonably sized town had one. Obviously, it was nothing compared to the one in the capital—just a bit of dirt surrounded by spectators’ booths—but it was a requisite facility for a population which had very few entertainments. 

And so there, Mile’s crash course began. 

“That’s all wrong! There, you have to smirk and then say, ‘Do you really think that one such as I required special training to acquire such a simple move?’! Once more, from the top!” 

“……” 

The other two were stunned into silence. 

*** 

The guard contingent that arrived just after noon the following day had only been informed that they would be transporting the merchant, and so they were few in number, with only one two-horse wagon, a driver, and three guards in total. No thief would be foolish enough to attack a wagon transporting criminals, and their chief likely could not spare more men than that. 

Normally, this group would have been plenty, but now that there was a noble to be transported as well, it was nowhere near enough. Furthermore, now that a noble had been apprehended, this would require a lot more attention from the higher-ups. Still, once the count explained the situation to the head of the transporting soldiers, and offered to accompany them to the capital as well, the group appeared relieved. 

Perhaps he could also accompany Mavis home via the capital—or else he could entrust that duty to his sons, and have them take her directly back to the estate. As he pondered whether it might be a cleaner break from her friends for Mavis to leave directly from here, time marched by, and soon, the time for the trial match with Mavis’s party had arrived. 

The count called to his sons and his attendants, and they all headed for the arena on the outskirts of town. 

“Wh-what is this…?” 

The count’s party arrived to find a massive crowd, so big that they wondered whether the entire town had gathered there. Food stalls and carts and roaming peddlers shouted over one another, hawking their wares. 

“Ah, Count Austien, please allow me to show you to the waiting area!” said Pauline, rushing up to greet them. 

“Wh-what is the meaning of all this…?” the count demanded. 

“Well, these townspeople are starved for entertainment, and we thought this would be a great opportunity for the local merchants to do a bit of advertising, so we put this together… Is that going to be a problem for you?” 

None of this was a lie. Indeed, it was just as Pauline said. However, there were also other reasons for this setup. 

First off, the prideful count was not the sort of person to break a promise. That was the conclusion they had reached from analyzing over half a year’s worth of stories involving the man. However, no one knew what her older brothers might do when it came to protecting Mavis. For that reason—to assure that their agreement would not be broken—a large assembly of witnesses had been gathered. 

Additionally, they had established a contract with the local merchants’ guild to collect twenty percent of the profits from the food stalls and merchandise carts. After all, it was going to take a lot of money to rebuild the reclaimed shop. 

The count grasped this much from Pauline’s initial explanation. To rebuild a shop whose name had been dragged through the dirt, it was crucial to let everyone know that they were now under new management. That was an indisputable fact. Plus, it was difficult to spread information very quickly, so there was no one who would pass up an opportunity as promising as this one. 

“Where is Mavis?” 

“Ah, even if this is just a mock battle, she said, it’s not good for the opponents to interact before the fight. She’s waiting over on the opposite side.” 

“Hm, that’s a very mature way to think about it…” 

The count made a peculiar face, which was almost endearing. 

“The other side has already completed their preparations. So as soon as you are ready, your lordship, we will proceed with the match between Mavis’s master and yourself.” 

“Understood,” the count replied, and began his preparations. 

“Thank you for your patience, everyone! What we present to you now is a battle for freedom, between the young lady hunter who helped to deliver this town from the wicked merchant, and her father, who wishes to drag her home against her will and force her into preparations for an arranged marriage!” 

“Woooooooooooooo!!” 

“Wait a minuuute!!” 

Just then, a voice rose up from somewhere in the crowd. 

Pauline heard the random cry of protest, but ignored it, continuing her patter. 

“The conditions for victory on the young hunter’s side are that her own master must win a fight against her father, and she must win against her older brother! You should know that her father is a renowned master of the sword, and her brother is also a skilled swordsman, from the first division of a count’s own knights. What a foolish, one-sided bout this is sure to be!” 

“Heeey!!!” 

Pauline was more than aware that someone was raising an objection, but she had an important job to do, so she chose not to concern herself with interruptions. Taking care not to let either their family nor given names slip, she continued. 

“The first match will be the young hunter’s father versus her master! Now then, Father, please step forward!” 

It was a rather harsh introduction, but he had to proceed. To accept a loss by default would be even worse. Count Austien stepped out onto the arena’s field with a dour expression. 

“And now, if his opponent, the young lady’s master, would please step forward!” 

At the call, a figure appeared on the opposite end of the field from the count. 

The moment they saw this person, the chattering from the crowd was subsumed, and a hush fell over the arena. 

It was a woman, silver-haired and with the stature of a child. 

She was the young lady hunter’s master, so it was not peculiar that she should be a swordswoman herself. 

There were plenty of people who were small even as adults, and if she were an elf or a dwarf, it would not be strange for her appearance to diverge from her age. Considering it from that angle, she was not all that bizarre. Indeed, there was nothing unusual about this whatsoever. 

Or at least, there wouldn’t have been, had she not been wearing a mask to obscure her appearance. 

“My name is Evening-Gown Mask!” 

“What kind of a name is thaaaaaaaaaaat?!” the crowd roared. 

In the first place, this woman was not wearing an evening gown at all, but standard hunters’ garb. Then again, that wasn’t really that much of an issue. 

“Wh-what a bizarre… Are you really Mavis’s master?!” 

“And what if I am? You are just a foolish man who cannot recognize my pupil’s abilities…” 

“Wh-what exactly is there to recognize? I am well aware that that girl has above average ability when it comes to the sword. However, that says nothing in and of itself! I’m sure you’re aware that, among all swordsmen, half of them have abilities below the average, while the other half have abilities above the average. One will either be above or below—that is but a matter of chance. There’s nothing special about that, is there? I have no intention of allowing her to pursue a path of mortal danger on that basis alone! She should live a life of happiness, as a noble’s daughter and a noble’s wife…” 

For some reason, Evening-Gown Mask made a rather displeased face upon hearing the word “average” bandied about so many times. Enough that it was visible even from behind the mask. 

“You fool…” 

“Wh-what?!” 

The count was enraged, believing that she belittled his feelings for his daughter. 

“You’re rather fond of pickled cabbage, aren’t you? And you always tried to force Mavis to eat it as well, did you not?” 

“Huh? H-how did you know…” 

The count felt himself trembling at this strange accusation. 

“Did you know?! That Mavis actually hated it? That pickled cabbage that you love so much?!” 

“Wh-what did you say?! Y-you’re lying!” 

“It’s no lie. You need to realize that the thing you believe will make Mavis happy may be something that will bring Mavis herself no joy whatsoever. What a fool you are.” 

“Sh-shut up! You’re lying! That couldn’t be…” 

“In that case, why does Mavis wish to remain with me and not return home with you?” 

“Sh…sh-shut your mouth! I just have to show Mavis how weak you are, and then her eyes will open! Come!” the count said, drawing his sword. 

The mysterious Evening-Gown Mask drew her weapon as well, and rushed toward him. 

The count stepped quickly and brought his sword down upon his shorter opponent’s head. It was just like splitting bamboo. A young woman like this, he assumed, could not block such a blow from her disadvantaged position. 

On the one hand, this was an overly showy move. Yet, he thought, it was just right for showing off their difference in power. But Evening-Gown Mask did not attempt to dodge or deflect the blow, instead blocking the attack head-on with her practice sword. 

“Grrrrrrngh…” 

The count, who thought that he could easily overwhelm his tiny opponent, was shocked at the strength of this woman, who should have had difficulty blocking with any sort of force from such an inconvenient stance. So he pushed harder. 

5 seconds, 10 seconds, 15 seconds… 

The count’s face was turning red and beads of sweat were forming on his brow, but his sword showed no signs of budging. 

After a bit more time had passed… 

“Pah!” 

Mi—Evening-Gown Mask let out a shout, and the count’s sword was forced back. Flustered, the count stepped back in retreat. 

“Tch… Are you a dwarf? Or perhaps, a halfling…?” 

Judging from the disconnect between her physical strength and her appearance, the count determined that his opponent could not possibly be purely human. And yet… 

“Hm? But I’m just a completely ordinary, average , normal human girl.” 

THAT’S A LIIIIIIIIIEEEE!!! 

Well, at the very least, the last part of that statement might be true—that is, the “human girl” part. 

However, the beginning of it was certainly a lie. An absolute lie! If this woman was not herself aware that she was lying, then perhaps she should go and review her language skills. 

So thought the crowd, as one. 

“Now then, let’s get this started for real…” 

She was not going to use magic during this match. It would be meaningless if she did not win with her sword skills alone. 

Mi—Evening-Gown Mask thought to herself, This should be just as fun as fighting Gren. 

This time, Evening-Gown Mask— Mile was the first one to make a move. It was a high-speed assault. 

In an instant, she closed the distance between them and swiftly drove the practice sword toward her opponent’s left flank. The count caught this blow with his own sword and struck back to fling her away. Mile’s sword was up, so she swung it down at the count’s chest. 

What followed was a fierce volley. 

This was not a reckless match where she could run around in circles, as in the battle with Gren. The count was a knight to the very end and chose a straightforward, head-on tactic, so Mile met him on the same terms. 

There was little movement. Instead, it was a vigorous, static duel. One might assume that for a hunter, who made it a point to move around a great deal in combat, this might make things more difficult. Yet this had no impact on Mile. As hunters went, her swordsmanship was rather crude in the first place, so it made no difference what style of battle she was involved in. 

Speed and power. That was what Mile had going for her. Nothing else mattered. 

As the match dragged on and on, the count gradually began to grow impatient. 

This was due, in part, to his partner’s incredibly crude technique. 

A person with a reasonable amount of skill could hardly ever win against a truly superior swordsperson. The swordsperson would surpass them in skill, speed, judgment, and the ability to read their opponent’s movements. They could not be beaten. 

However, an amateur moved in erratic ways. They made decisions that were not based in common sense, and they chose techniques that no person in their right mind would ever attempt. Because their speed and technique would still be inferior, their chances of victory were low. However, there was always the possibility of them striking an unexpected blow, which made them exhausting opponents for a veteran, who could not read their moves ahead of time. 

This was an opponent who had speed and strength surpassing most experts, but the moves of an amateur. 

This was dangerous. This was an incredibly dangerous opponent. 

Her continued attacks were powerful and quick and completely unpredictable, and a moment’s lapse in judgment could lead to a fatal blow. In order to carry on, he needed to concentrate with every bit of his will, and this was making the count incredibly exhausted. 

Normally, such an amateur would quickly fall victim to a single blow, and it would all be over. In this case, though, no matter how many times he swung, none of the swings seemed to be connecting. They were evaded, or blocked, or deflected, and every action thereafter was met by another counterblow. 

It was not as though things were not going well on the count’s side; rather, it was the way the battle went on and on, without an end in sight. By degrees, the count grew more fatigued, his impatience beginning to swell. 

At this rate, we’ll come out evenly matched… Wait, is that true? Is this woman truly even using all of her power? If she can handle my attacks so nonchalantly and at such speed, does that mean that she’s capable of even quicker attacks? She isn’t showing even a fragment of impatience or fatigue. 

C-could it be that she’s toying with—That’s impossible! There’s no way that could happen! 

In his irritation and weariness, the count’s blade became unsteady, creating an opening. 

Clack! 

The lower part of his blade was struck, and the count stared, dumbfounded, as he dropped his sword. 

It was not that the sword had been knocked away. He had been struck with blows of the same speed and weight up before now. No, he had dropped his sword. His sword had been dropped . 

The crowd swelled, and a few broken cheers rang out. 

What a disgrace for a knight. What humiliation. 

His face was flushed, and his arms would not stop trembling. 

“Please hurry and pick that up.” 

“Wh…?” 

She should have raised a cheer of victory and declared her win, but… 

There were limits to how long he could be toyed with. 

Normally, he would demand that he be taken seriously, kick his practice sword away, and leave—but he could not do that this time. 

The life of his precious daughter was on the line in this fight. He simply could not allow her to continue to live the dangerous life of a hunter. No matter what. 

He did not doubt that his son would win, but he could not shut his eyes to the thousand or even ten-thousand-in-one chance that his daughter’s life might continue to be put in danger. No matter how he had to humiliate himself in front of his subordinates, in front of this crowd—if there was even the slightest chance that he could still prevail, then he could not surrender this match. 

And so, the count picked up his sword, and once more took his stance. 

Thirty minutes later, Count Austien was on the ground, on his hands and knees. 

He had reached his limit. He no longer had the strength to stand, or even to grip his sword. 

It was a complete loss. There was no other word for it. 

“Would you say that we can call this my win?” Mile asked, to confirm. 

The count nodded silently in reply. 

As Mile returned to her waiting area, and the count’s men jumped forth from theirs to lend him their shoulders, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers. 

Not a single person there was laughing at the count. 

The count was strong. So much so that it was unclear whether a B-rank, or even an A-rank hunter, would be able to win against him. He had merely faced a vexing opponent. That was all. 

They applauded him freely and vigorously, and yet the count’s face was still twisted. 

He held no hatred or disdain for his opponent. On the contrary, he was filled with admiration that such strength could be carried in such a small frame. Based on her technique, he could only assume that she had likely received formal instruction for but a short period of time, but that strength ! That power could only have come from endless self-study and training. Truly, it was worthy of praise. 

The count’s rage was directed only at his own shortcomings—self-hatred for the fact that he had not been able to ensure his daughter’s safety by his own hand. 

When the count finally made it back to the waiting area, he said to his son, who stood, confident, “You must win. Don’t ever drop your guard.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

And so Waylon von Austien, the eldest son of the Austien family, stepped forth. 

For the sake of his beloved sister, he would harden his heart, and face that dear sister herself in battle. 

Waylon had regrets. 

After three boys, a daughter had finally been born to the Austien family: Mavis. 

Their parents and grandparents doted on her, but her three brothers doted on her all the more. She was raised as the princess of the Austien family, wanting for nothing, and spent her days watching her brothers practice at swords, until she declared that she wished to do so as well. 

Thinking that she would never be on her own, without anyone to protect her, she was offered only cursory instruction, but she proved an unexpectedly serious and patient student with a fair amount of talent. Her three brothers were shocked. Furthermore, they loathed the idea of their adorable sister being attacked by some man, and thought she should at least have some capacity for self-defense. So, her brothers took the time to give her a bit of instruction in between their own lessons. 

When she came to Waylon, saying, “Big Brother, I want to practice with you!” he could not possibly turn her away. As was his privilege as the eldest brother, they practiced many things together, just the two of them. 

It was not until much later that he found out that Mavis was also going to her other brothers as well, so she was actually receiving three times the instruction than he had imagined. 

The way that she had watched him and his brothers at their promotion ceremony, her eyes sparkling with admiration, had made the joy of becoming a knight all the sweeter. But they had assumed that the look in her eyes was directed toward them. 

Who among them would guess that her admiration was for the profession of knighthood itself—that her heart was already filled with dreams of becoming a knight herself one day? 

He had failed. If they had realized this problem sooner, they might have been able to direct Mavis’s interest toward other things. At the very least, they might have been able to stop her from running away from home. 

However, this time, he would not fail. 

He would bring Mavis back home, no matter what. He swore it on his name, as the eldest son of the Austien family. 

“Lend me your heart, First Brother.” 

The siblings faced one another in the middle of the arena. 

“To have a match like this after eight whole months… However, I won’t hold back today. I’ll take care not to injure you, but it still might hurt a bit. This is a punishment for your childish behavior. Learn some self-restraint!” 

Mavis smiled wryly at her eldest brother’s words. 

“First Brother, I’m not a child anymore. I’m Mavis, the leader of the Crimson Vow, a C-rank hunting party. Bear witness to this power of mine!” 

Declaring this, Mavis drew her practice sword. Waylon drew his in turn. 

“Now, we fight!” they shouted in unison. 

Suddenly, Waylon stepped forward. 

It might seem a bit childish, but the situation was what it was. His precious sister’s future—no, her life itself—was on the line. This was not the time to hold back or play around. In order to avoid making a mistake or running the risk of scarring her adorable face, he swung to strike her in the side. 

Shing! 

“Is something troubling you, First Brother?” 

Mavis should not have been able to block a full-powered attack of his. 

At the very least, the Mavis of eight months ago would not have been able to defend herself against an attack that was even seventy or eighty percent as fast as this. 

Cling cling cling! 

“I-Impossible…” 

There were few even among his subordinate knights who would have been able to defend themselves against those three incredibly serious, deadly swings. 

Yet she had flicked them away as though they were nothing. 

“This can’t be…” Waylon muttered in disbelief. 

“First Brother, did you forget that I’ve spent weeks away training and growing stronger with someone other than you?” Mavis replied, mysteriously. “And that there are people who are far more tempered, faster, and stronger than you, my dear brother?” 

“Wh…?” 

And then Mavis proceeded to land the coup de grâce . 

“First Brother, I’m sure it’s been said that Father’s age means he’s past his prime. Physically, you are now the strongest in our lands. But in truth, Brother, even excluding Father, you’re only the second strongest.” 

“What? Then who would you say is the strongest?” 

Mavis pulled her left hand from her sword, extended her index finger, and pointed to her own face. 

“Huh..?” 

Waylon was stunned speechless. 

No matter how intense their special practice had been, there was no way that Mavis could have gotten that much stronger in just one night. 

Indeed Mile, thinking that it would be difficult for Mavis to win against her brother using honest means, had used their preparations the day before to access her forbidden, top-secret grimoire. She had long ago decided to restrict herself from making use of this resource unless there was no other option. 

The nanomachines. 

Reluctantly, Mile had called upon them to answer a variety of questions, such as why Mavis couldn’t use magic. 

The nanomachines, as though they were thrilled to be called upon again after so long, cheerfully replied. 

OH? BUT SHE CAN USE IT. 

Wh-what did you saaaaay?! 

THERE ARE A NUMBER OF REASONS WHY SOMEONE MAY APPEAR UNABLE TO USE MAGIC. IN THE CASE OF LADY MAVIS, THIS IS DUE TO HER HAVING ONLY A FRACTURED POWER TO EXTERNALLY RADIATE THOUGHT PULSES. I.E. THERE IS A MALFUNCTION IN THE EXTERNAL ACTUALIZATION OF HER IMPULSES. THERE ARE SEEMINGLY MANY IN HER FAMILY WHO FALL UNDER THIS CATEGORY, SO IT MAY BE GENETIC… 

In that case, doesn’t it mean that she can’t use magic?! 

NO, WE MERELY SAID THAT SHE HAS “FRACTURED POWER TO EXTERNALLY RADIATE THOUGHT PULSES,” SO— 

You’re saying that she can radiate them internally? 

THAT IS CORRECT. DID YOU NOT YET GRASP THIS, DESPITE YOUR CLEAR INTELLIGENCE? 

Sh-shut up! 

The result of Mile’s questioning of the nanomachines was something along the following lines: 

The reason that Mavis’s pulse emission was weak was that the part of her that radiated the pulses—a part equivalent to an antenna on a radio—was malfunctioning. Therefore, she could not transmit her intentions externally, and ergo, could not use magic. 

However, even without an antenna, the signals were still flowing throughout her mental circuitry. Even if they were weak, the thought pulses were still inside her. 

Which meant, Mile concluded, that if there were nanomachines inside of her, they would react… 

NORMALLY, WE NANOMACHINES DO NOT RESIDE WITHIN THE BODIES OF ANY LIVING CREATURE… IT IS UNPLEASANT. 

Somehow, this made sense. Moreover, the directive given by the nanomachines’ creators to maintain a fixed density throughout the world did not appear to apply to the insides of living creatures. 

HOWEVER, THERE ARE MANY CASES WHERE NANOMACHINES DO EXIST IN SUCH ENVIRONMENTS. ONE SUCH CASE IS WHEN MAGIC IS INVOLVED. 

Indeed, at times it was necessary for nanomachines to enter the bodies of living creatures in order to enact the effects of spells, such as when using healing magic. Still, they exited the body as soon as their duty was complete. Moreover, since Mavis was unable to perform any spells that would compel them to enter her body in the first place, this point was moot. 

Incidentally, the nanomachines had a weak response rate when it came to spells aimed at the destruction, rather than healing, of the flesh. Plus, because it took a bit of time for them to enter the body, these effects materialized a tick slower than those of healing spells. Furthermore, because it took so long to actualize these effects, it was likely the owner of that body might notice something abnormal and be distressed by their symptoms. Then, that thought would take priority, and the original effects would be canceled. The thought that flowed to the nanomachines most directly, from a point-blank range, would naturally be prioritized. Humans thought of this phenomenon as “magical resistance.” 

However, attacks like these could still be utilized in some cases. When, for example, Pauline faced the B-rank hunter, it didn’t matter if it took some time for the effects to come about, especially when the target was not cognizant of any abnormality. Then, there was the case of someone with magical power great enough to interfere with someone else’s body unimpeded by their resistance. 

ONE OTHER CONSIDERATION IS “NATURAL ENTRY,” WHEN A NANOMACHINE ENTERS A CREATURE’S BODY THROUGH NATURAL MEANS, SUCH AS BREATHING, EATING, OR DRINKING. 

IN THESE CASES, THE NANOMACHINES IMMEDIATELY EXIT THE BODY, BUT IF THERE IS A SUFFICIENT DENSITY OF NANOMACHINES IN THE VICINITY, THEN A STANDARD CONCENTRATION OF NANOMACHINES WILL REMAIN WITHIN THE LUNGS, VIA THE ORAL CAVITY. 

IF THOSE NANOMACHINES WERE TO RECEIVE A DIRECT PULSE TRANSMISSION, THE RESULTS WOULD BE LIMITED BECAUSE THEIR NUMBERS WOULD BE FEW, HOWEVER… 

They would still react, wouldn’t they? 

And so, Mile thought—about Mavis, who could not utilize the nanomachines externally, but could still somehow draw upon the scant number that might exist inside. And, she thought about a simple means of strengthening Mavis, who wished to be a knight. 

Indeed, there was no other option. 

She would have to use body-fortification magic. 

The moment Pauline got wind of the idea to turn the mock battle into an event, with a portion of the vendors’ profits going to the merchants’ guild, she rushed out immediately, presumably to speak with the heads of each local guild branch. Worried, Reina followed along with her. 

Only Mile and Mavis remained in the arena. 

All things considered, compared to Reina and Pauline’s power leveling, Mavis had received relatively few of Mile’s blessings. 

There was the “Godspeed Blade,” of course. However, that was the fruit of Mavis doggedly forging herself in battle after battle against Mile, and it would be a disservice to Mavis to consider that in the same vein as power leveling. Rather, that had been the natural result of Mavis’s excruciating, persistent efforts over the course of half a year of being excluded from her friends’ magical training. 

Even with these gains, it was not as though her abilities had improved as much as Reina’s and Pauline’s, who had seen rapid growth after Mile had “thought of a few tricks for them.” In and of itself, the power of Reina’s fire magic and Pauline’s healing magic was at a B-rank, perhaps even nearly an A-rank. Factoring in their knowledge, experience, and technique, as well as speed, physical ability, and their overall potential as hunters, they were in the upper echelons of a C-rank, at the very least. 

By contrast, Mavis’s swordsmanship was only at the level of an upper C-rank or a lesser B-rank. 

Even if she called her technique the “Godspeed Blade,” the speed produced was nowhere near what the name implied. While it was accurate to estimate that her speed was 1.4 times what it had been previously, that did not mean it was all that great to begin with. Even if she had grown faster, it would still not far surpass that of a soldier or knight who practiced every day. 

Thus, she could face several opponents at once if they were at the level of your average bandit; however, soldiers, knights, and other more sophisticated enemies might prove a bit more intense. Except, of course, when those enemies’ shoes were filled with pebbles, or the soles had been cut into a disadvantageous slant. 

Even if she were facing only a single enemy, if that enemy were a skilled combatant, then victory could prove difficult. 

And so, Mile decided to lend a helping hand to Mavis, who had been worrying herself sick over her insufficient strength. 

After Reina and Pauline had left, and only the two of them remained on the arena grounds, Mile finally spoke up. “Um, so, Mavis… You absolutely need to win tomorrow, yes?” 

“Huh? Um, yes. That’s why we’re doing special training right now, isn’t it?” Mavis looked suspicious, wondering why Mile was asking such a thing at a time like this. 

“Well, you see, the truth is… There is a way that you might be able to win.” 

“What?! Seriously?! What is it? You have to tell me!” 

Mavis was already deeply invested, but Mile’s reply was timid. “Well, it’s a means of body fortification, but I don’t know if it would suit the pride of someone like yourself, aiming to be a knight, Mavis…” 

“I don’t care! That doesn’t matter to me at all! If it helps me push through as hopeless a situation as this, I can swallow my pride a bit! Now, hurry up and teach me! What do I have to do?” 

This was a bit of an anti-climax for Mile, who had been certain that Mavis would refuse, declaring something like “A real battle is one thing, but in a practice match that’s just cowardly!”Even in this world, there were plenty of suitable aphorisms for such a situation—sayings along the lines of “To make an omelet, you have to break some eggs,” or “The ends justify the means,” or “That was then, and this is now.” 

And so, Mile explained to Mavis how the body fortification would work. 

She got the feeling that if she told Mavis, “You can use magic, too,” it would become a whole different issue. So instead, she decided to describe it as “a secret technique of physical strengthening,” in which one could control one’s flesh through sheer willpower. That way, it would be easier for Mavis to accept her strength as an ability obtained through her own training and discipline. 

Mavis watched Mile intently, her eyes sparkling, and drank it all in. 

After the lecture was through, it was time for some practical applications: modulating one’s strength, balancing one’s power, and calculating one’s speed. 

Again and again, Mavis failed to connect with her own senses and tumbled, her body covered in scratches and bruises. Each time, Mile healed her with magic. 

It was not until it was beginning to grow dark that Reina and Pauline returned from speaking with both the guilds. 

There, they found Mavis, beaming with a confident, satisfied grin. 

“Wh-what a ridiculous thing to say…” 

Waylon, who had been momentarily stunned speechless, burst out laughing. 

Certainly, he had been shocked at the way that Mavis handled his attacks earlier. 

However, up until eight months ago, he had been a part of Mavis’s training for many years. Waylon was completely aware of her power and abilities, and while, for a young woman, she was nothing to scoff at, she definitely was not at the level where she could have surpassed him a matter of mere months. 

Though he truly did not hold back against her, the power he used was not the same that he would employ on the battlefield, when his life depended on it. This was his beloved little sister Mavis. There was no mistaking that his power and speed had been blunted, if only unintentionally. Mavis had simply happened to avoid one of his attacks, and now, she was overestimating her own abilities, bluffing just to get him riled up. This was Waylon’s assessment. 

“If you’re going to overestimate your own abilities, then you really aren’t suited to be out on your own. At this rate, you’ll lose your life in short order! It’s time to make you understand that!” 

With those words, Waylon launched another attack. This time, it was an all-out, three-point offensive, with his true full speed and weight behind it. 

Clingcling-cliiiiiing! 

“Wh…?” 

Not only Waylon, but also the spectators, and the count, who stood in the waiting area along with Ewan and the other knights, all gasped, their eyes wide. 

It was a perfect block. She had completely blocked his three-point attack. No, she had goaded him into it. You might even say he had asked for it. 

A great shout rose up from the stands. 

Waylon was a strong and fairly handsome young man, but for some reason, the great majority of the cheers coming from the young ladies in the audience were directed toward Mavis. 

“Impossible…” 

Even though he was experiencing it himself, Waylon could not believe this was real. 

If he were to believe it, his own common sense, as well as his confidence, would desert him. 

He could not, at any cost, allow himself to believe that this was happening. That his own younger sister might be surpassing him… 

Meanwhile, Mavis’s heart was soaring higher than it ever had. 

Her three older brothers were not so formidable that they could be thought of as equivalent to the royal guard or, say, an S-rank hunter. However, they were still top-notch among the count’s regional forces, well deserving of the designation of first-class knights. 

The foremost of all of them was her eldest brother, Waylon. 

And she was fighting seriously against that same brother. There was no way that her heart wouldn’t be dancing! 

However, Mavis still knew that she had to assess herself rationally. 

She knew that this wasn’t really her true ability. 

As time went on, she would be less and less able to stand up to her better trained and more experienced brother and his sword. 

She had to settle this match before her brother could become accustomed to her speed and skills, and begin to challenge them. If she was to win this match, there was no other way. 

“This time, allow me to begin,” said Mavis, taking her sword in her left hand. “Secret technique! Earthen tidal wave, Urban Splash!” 

The first step of this technique, Urban Splash, was to scoop up earth with one’s sword, sending a splash of dirt flying into the opponent’s face to startle them. In that moment came the second blow. 

It was a special technique that could only be used in urban areas, not in forests or fields that might be covered in grass, or contain obstacles like fallen trees. The sword was held underhand so that it could scoop up earth with a natural movement, and so that one could follow through in the same motion with a swing toward one’s opponent. 

Naturally, the one to name it had been Mile, an avid reader of shounen manga in her past life. 

“Tch!” 

As might be expected of the foremost fighter in the region, Waylon evaded the tip of the sword, which only grazed him lightly. Even so, he only narrowly missed the splash of dirt and the blow that followed after it. 

“D-did you really think that a c-clever little trick like that would work on me?!” 

In fact, it was in fact a fairly dangerous move, and Waylon was shaking quite a bit. 

“Ah!” said Mavis. “Of course you, First Brother, would be able to avoid the hero’s special technique, Urban Splash. However, how will you fare against a move that was formulated to fell any manner of superior beast that may appear on the hunting grounds?” 

With that taunt, Mavis launched another special attack. 

“Sworn sword of the hunting grounds, Excalibur!” 

“Whooooooaaaaa!” 

Waylon somehow blocked her attack with his sword, but he winced at the force behind it, which was far greater than he could have imagined. 

Even if the power that Mavis could produce was nothing to scoff at, she was a girl of noble birth, and her strength still had its limits. Or at least, that was how it should have been. However, the strength of that attack just now was… 

He could not let his surprise show on his face. It would show weakness and get his opponent even more riled up. He had to maintain a calm expression. 

“Hmph! Is that all? Nothing else in your bag of tricks?” 

Waylon spoke with feigned coolness, but Mavis, who had something else up her sleeve, looked even cooler. 

“First Brother, I beseech you not to belittle me. Do you really think that one such as I would need to undergo special training for a finishing move as feeble as that?” 

“Wh-what?” 

“True Godspeed Blade! 1.4 speeeeed!!” 

“W-whoooooooooooaaaa!!!” 

The match was no longer an exchange of one-shots, but a continuous, tumultuous volley. 

Striking, blocking, stepping hard, flying back and forth. 

This was her First Brother, who she so admired. A person whose skill as a knight was at such a lofty level she could never hope to even approach it. 

Now, in an all-out fight against that big brother—well, he was losing steam, and his movements growing sloppy. Against that big brother, she was excelling. 

She really might win this! 

She was, of course, aiming to win. But honestly, she might actually win! Against her eldest brother! 

Mavis’s heart was on fire, her soul alight. 

She was all out of special techniques. She had used everything they had practiced the night before in her two previous moves. 

That said, this “True Godspeed Blade” could probably be thought of as Mavis’s real secret power. 

All the practice that Mavis had put in during her six months at the prep school—and even since then—was now paying off. No matter how much the nanomachines increased her synaptic reactions or temporarily tautened the sinews of her muscles, if her existing abilities were not sufficient to handle it, she might suffer muscle ruptures and bone fractures as her body destroyed itself. However, thanks to all of her training, Mavis possessed a body that could withstand such rigors, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time. 

Meanwhile, Waylon’s offensive strength was waning. He had to remain vigilant, on the lookout for other secret techniques, in case Mavis was bluffing. Even in perfect form, anticipating each of her moves, he had only barely blocked the last two special attacks. If she tried to perform some other big move, she might launch a third attack in the moment that it took Waylon to guard against her. He couldn’t afford to be careless here. 

Mavis’s attack speed was abnormally fast. It took everything Waylon had just to block her volleys, leaving him unable to launch his own counterstrikes. Just like his father before him, Waylon began to grow extremely impatient. 

Mavis’s brothers could not use magic. By contrast, though Mavis herself did not realize it, thinking that she was only strengthening her body “by her own willpower,” she was using body-strengthening magic in this very moment. Her fatigue dissipated; her stamina increased. Yet as a young man, tempered by long years of training, Waylon’s base abilities were still far beyond Mavis’s. While Waylon’s combat abilities were declining gradually as his fatigue increased, Mavis was going to hit her limit all at once. Thanks to Mile, who had consulted with the nanomachines, Mavis herself knew this. Thus, she knew she had a very brief window in which her plan could work. 

Indeed, while she did not let it show upon her face, Mavis was even more frantic than Waylon in this moment. 

Once she reached her limit, it would all be over—and that limit was approaching fast. 

Slightly, ever so slightly, Waylon’s reaction speed was beginning to decline. 

Yet at the same time, perhaps because he was starting to grow accustomed to Mavis’s speed and moves, and finding ways to fight against them, the force of his attacks was starting to increase again. Now that he was focused on the battle, his hesitation was gone, so his experience was truly beginning to show. 

Mavis was gradually being pushed back, her body beginning to approach its limits. 

She did not know whether she would hear a warning sound or sign from within her when those limits were hit. 

There was no more time. 

With this thought, Mavis decided it was time to unleash her final attack, which she had hoped to avoid using, if she could. Her final, special technique, which Pauline had thought up, and whose efficacy against her elder brother had been guaranteed by Reina and Mile. If she did not make use of it now, it would all be over. 

For the sake of her own future, Mavis summoned all the strength of her soul and launched her final attack. 

“I hate you, Big Brother! Please don’t talk to me ever again!” 

“Huh…?” 

Waylon froze, dumbfounded, looking as though he had been overcome by a deep despair. 

Smack! 

For Mavis, landing a blow on Waylon, who was standing stock-still, was simple. 

“Wh…” 

The audience was incredulous. 

“What was thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?!” 

They were vexed. 

The count, Waylon, and Ewan were all incredibly vexed. 

However, in front of this many witnesses, there was not a thing they could do. They could not possibly allow the common folk to see a group of nobles—knights, no less—breaking a promise without batting an eye. Furthermore, Theresa, a representative of the capital branch of the guild, and Santos, a guard who spoke on the king’s behalf, were on Mavis’s side. Their hands were well and truly tied. 

Hanging their heads, the Austien family and their underlings plodded out of the arena, powerless. 

As Mile saw the Austiens off, she glanced to the side to see Pauline standing nearby, her face dark. 

“Oh! Pauline, what’s the matter?” 

Pauline wailed in despair. 

“If only we’d had more time! If only we’d had more time , we could have made more money off of this match! So much more! I want to go back to yesterday! If only we could go back to yesterday!!” 

Just then, a strong breeze blew past them, carrying the smell of flowers to Mile’s nostrils. 

Back on Earth, this smell would have been that of lavender blossoms. 

Mile patted her fist against her palm in recognition. 

“Aha! It’s ‘The Girl Who Leapt Through Money’!”