Chapter 196

[Lesser Evasion Increase]

[Lesser Agility Increase]

[Lesser Strength Increase]

Sheen whispered the words under his breath as the horn’s echo still clung to the walls of the arena. The skills settled into his body like familiar armor. His heartbeat steadied, muscles tightening with practiced ease. This, too, was a difference between the empire and the kingdom. In the empire, dungeon items were hunted down in every dungeon and monster-infested area. Skill books were treasures, yes, but also tools, earned through repetition and relentless dungeon raids. Even the smallest chance became inevitable when pursued often enough.

The kingdom did things differently. They waited. They trusted in their prize fruit dungeon, seasonal rewards, fortune delivered whole and ripe like fruit falling from a tree. Everything else was neglected. Left to adventurers who carved their own paths and took their gains elsewhere, gains that never truly fed back into the kingdom’s strength. Sheen had heard this before coming here. Now, standing in the arena, he felt it.

He reached over his shoulders and drew his twin swords.

Steel sang softly as they cleared their sheaths. The blades were slightly curved, single-edged, heavier than most weapons of their kind. Built not for elegance alone, but for ending fights quickly. Their weight settled into his hands like an extension of his will.

[Flicker Step]

The skill activated.

One moment, Sheen stood several meters away from Kana. Then space between them collapsed. The world lurched, air snapping as his body vanished and reappeared in a heartbeat, red sand scattering beneath his boots as if startled by his arrival.

He was right in front of her.

For an instant, time stretched thin.

Her red eyes met his.

Not widened. Not startled.

Waiting.

The realization struck him harder than expected.

She knew.

Not guessed. She had anticipated the exact place he would appear, the precise moment his body would reenter the world. How? [Flicker Step] was an absurd skill especially designed to counter [Mage] type of class.

Yet her gaze was already there, steady and sharp, as though this outcome had been decided before he moved.

His grip tightened.

[Slash]

The overhead strike came down from his right hand, clean and precise. To the untrained eye, it looked almost leisurely, a simple downward cut with no flourish. But the truth lived in the space between moments. The blade moved faster than sight, faster than thought, leaving only an afterimage that lagged behind reality.

This was the strike that ended fights.

Opponents usually realized too late that they had misjudged the timing, the speed, the inevitability. By the time their bodies reacted, the blade had already passed through the space they once occupied.

The red sand beneath them stirred, lifting slightly as the air itself seemed to recoil from the swing.

And yet, as the sword descended, Sheen felt it again.

That pressure.

That quiet, infuriating certainty radiating from the girl in front of him.

As if this, too, was something she had already seen coming. She parried his  [Slash], perfectly.

….

Sheen had expected resistance. Even competence. But not this.

His opening [Slash] should have carved blood, torn armor, forced panic. Instead, the blade met resistance at an angle so precise it stole the force from the strike and slid it harmlessly aside. Not blocked. Redirected. The impact rang sharp and clean, steel kissing steel, and his momentum betrayed him as the attack died where it should have bitten deep.

Good, he told himself.

The thought curdled the instant it formed.

Because parrying that strike meant more than reflex. 

Pressure coiled in his chest, tight as a drawn bowstring.

Then he pushed forward.

[Hundred Slash]

Both arms moved, not as limbs but as intent made physical. His swords became streaks of silver, cutting from impossible angles. High. Low. Crossed. The air screamed as steel tore through it, each strike overlapping the last, afterimages stacking like ghosts that refused to fade.

This skill had not been chosen lightly. No, the house had chosen it for him. A tradition carved into blood and expectation. Every [Swordmaster] of his lineage bore one such technique, a storm of blades meant to overwhelm opponents. To face it was to drown.

Yet the girl did not drown.

Her expression never changed.

She did not retreat. She did not panic. She worked.

A single black dagger flashed in her hand, small and unassuming against his twin swords. It caught a strike, twisted just enough. Another slid past her shoulder as she turned, metal scraping armor. A third grazed her leg, denting the plate there, deliberate, almost calculated. She allowed those through, trading shallow damage for positioning.

Sheen felt it then.

Not surprise.

Disbelief.

She was choosing which strikes mattered.

[Flicker Step]

[Slash]

He vanished, reappearing at her back, blade already descending.

Parried.

The sound cracked like thunder.

[Flicker Step]

[Slash]

Gone again. This time at her side, blade angling for her ribs.

Parried again.

Steel rang, sparks bursting between them like brief stars.

[Flicker Step]

[Slash]

Another reposition, another lethal angle, another perfect timing.

Another parry.

She moved as though she were reading words written in the air, her dagger always there before his blade arrived. Simultaneous skill usage like this was the pride of his house, the duelists who ended fights before they truly began.

And yet—

She was reading him like an open book.

The crowd gasped with every exchange. Even those who knew nothing of swordsmanship could feel it. Each swing carved the air hard enough to whistle, pressure rolling outward like invisible waves. In the stands, cloaks fluttered. Hair stirred. People leaned back without knowing why.

Below them, the artificial red sand bore the scars of his assault. Long, clean cuts marred the surface, lines etched so sharply they looked like wounds in the earth itself.

And still she stood.

A young girl, armed with a single dagger, calmly dismantling a storm meant to end battles in seconds.

Sheen’s breath came faster now.

For the first time since stepping into the arena, a single thought forced its way past his training, past his certainty.

What… are you?

…….

Kana was evaluating him in the quiet space between heartbeats.

She still wasn’t certain.

An evolved class should feel different. Zia had carried weight like a mountain pressing down on the world, every movement layered with inevitability. The guildmaster had been worse, a walking pressure that bent rooms around him without effort. Those were people who had gone beneath class change, whose strength had settled into their bones and rewritten them.

Sheen felt… sharp. Fast. Polished.

But not yet there. She couldn’t feel him like Zia or the guildmaster.

[High Awareness] seemed automatically focusing on her opponent, mapping the flow of the duel in fine detail. She felt the ripple of his buffs the moment the horn had sounded. One after another of activating skills. Too many for a normal class. That much was certain. If skill count alone decides things, then yes, he should have been an evolved class.

And yet—

His strength reminded her of the shadow man.

That thing had been dangerous, not because it was overwhelmingly strong, but because it was clever. It hid. It struck from blind angles. It forced mistakes. Even then, she had taken multiple people and outside interference to bring it down.

Kana had grown since then.

Levels gained. Stats increased. Control refined. If she faced that shadow again now, the outcome would be decided differently.

Compared to that—

Sheen’s attacks were clean, but honest. Fast, but readable especially with her [High Awareness]. His surprise relied on speed and technique, not true deception. No darkness to vanish into. No terrain advantage. No layered traps waiting beneath the surface.

If he was hiding something, she had yet to see it.

Steel met steel again as she caught one of his slashes and redirected it hard, forcing his blade wide. The impact shuddered up her arm, vibrating through her bones, but it was manageable. 

Her irritation finally surfaced.

She stepped in instead of back, closing the distance, dagger sliding along his sword with deliberate pressure. Her eyes locked onto his, red irises steady, unblinking.

“Stop playing.”

Her voice cut through the noise of the arena, low and grounded, carrying weight that had nothing to do with volume.

She twisted her wrist, shoving his blade aside and breaking the rhythm he had been so proud of. The movement forced him to reset his stance, just a fraction late.

“Take this duel seriously,” she continued, her tone calm but edged like drawn steel. “Go all out.”

For the first time, something flickered across Sheen’s face.

Not arrogance.

Not confidence.

Something closer to offense.

Kana leaned in just enough for him to feel her presence fully now, the pressure she had been holding back no longer restrained. It wasn’t bloodlust. It was a certainty. The kind forged by surviving things that should have killed you.

“I’m more capable than I look.”

The red sand shifted beneath their feet as she settled into her stance again, dagger low, posture relaxed, almost casual.

Kana hesitated for a heartbeat.

She should have been relieved. Her opponent was weaker than she had prepared for, weaker than the image she had built in her mind while watching the empire’s fighters tear through the arena.

So why did disappointment coil in her chest instead?

Why was she searching for resistance?

Right, she told herself firmly. I should be happy.

The thought came a fraction too late.

Steel flashed. A slash skimmed past her ribs, close enough that she felt the tug of air against her armor straps. Kana leapt backward, boots tearing through the red sand, barely escaping the edge of the blade. The crowd gasped as one, sound rushing outward like a struck drum.

Sheen pressed the advantage instantly.

His next strike came down with intent, heavier, sharper. Kana caught it with her single dagger, the impact ringing through her arm and into her shoulder. Metal screamed against metal. The force shoved her feet deeper into the sand, grinding grit into her soles.

For an instant, they were locked together, blade against blade.

This is inefficient, she thought, calm even now.

Two hands would solve this.

She took a mental note. [Two-Handed Dagger Mastery]. Level 30. Don’t forget.

Kana broke the clash abruptly.

Her boot snapped upward, slamming into Sheen’s face. Red sand exploded between them, a choking cloud that swallowed sight and sound alike. The crowd roared as the fighters vanished behind the haze.

Sheen reacted without hesitation.

[Flicker Step]

His presence vanished, the space he occupied collapsing into emptiness.

But Kana was already turning.

She felt it. A ripple in the air. A subtle distortion in the air. The place where he would appear, not where he was.

Her dagger already in motion, muscles moving before conscious thought caught up.

[Dagger Pierce]

The blade thrust forward, fast and deadly.

Sheen reappeared into the strike.

Steel bit flesh.

Not a killing blow. Not even a decisive one. But enough to draw blood, enough to tear a sharp breath from his lungs and stagger his footing. Crimson droplets darkened the red sand, nearly indistinguishable except to those who knew where to look.

Kana pulled back smoothly, already resetting her stance.

The arena erupted.

Not again. They were disrupting her [High Awareness].

Post note:

Yes. Von, the shadow man was a bit more skilled with less skills.
Have a great weekends
Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂