Watching my opponent—one who used poison—twitch on the floor, I walked back into the coliseum amidst the cheers of the crowd.
It wasn’t that he was particularly weak. Poison users are never easy to handle; the threat of what even a small cut can do is terrifying on its own. Plus, unlike most fighters, poison users don’t aim to simply defeat you; they strategize to inject their venom. You have to handle them differently.
But my opponent was unfortunate. My compatibility against him was just too strong.
For one, as a servant of the Holy Lord, I have immunity to most poisons. Without any conscious effort on my part, the holy power within me naturally expels impurities. Poisons lethal to most wouldn’t work on me unless there was a significant volume or potency capable of surpassing my divine protection.
And even if he managed to bypass my shield and inflict some meaningful poison damage, I have the ability to purify it. Holy magic is packed with cleansing spells, and I even possess the cheat skill Armadi’s Mercy.
Unless he wielded powers granted by an evil god of poison, poisoning me was practically impossible.
<Poor guy. If he’d faced anyone else, he’d have climbed a lot higher.>
‘Well, luck is part of skill.’
<Hmph. True as that may be, hearing it from you is irritating.>
I chuckled at my mentor’s grumbling.
He was right; I had no business saying that.
Someone like my opponent, who was knocked out by sheer bad luck, can say things like that. Those words would be a fair complaint coming from him.
But for someone like me, who has only fought opponents I knew I could handle while gaining experience, it would be deceitful. It would be nothing short of arrogance.
I learned this lesson firsthand on the Soul Academy forums after being banned multiple times for stirring up trouble with victory brags.
So why did I make such a remark to my mentor?
‘But Grandpa, if you think about it, don’t I deserve to say it this time?’
I’m about to fail soon, anyway.
<That’s true.>
On my way back to the waiting room, I checked the bracket again and recalled Benedict’s story, shaking my head with a wry smile.
“This was back when your Papa was still green, dear. He was so eager to prove his strength he’d face anyone he could. He took down everyone in his knight order, conquered every dungeon, and still wasn’t satisfied. He abandoned his duties and roamed the continent, battling every strong opponent he could find.
“That’s when he met a woman named Lasha. She was also roaming the lands, taking down powerful people, and came looking for me. We crossed swords. She was quite a formidable opponent. I don’t say this lightly, but even then, few could match my strength. Lasha was one of those rare exceptions. If she’d had more refined technique, things might’ve been different.
“Even if we fought again, I don’t think I’d lose, though it’d certainly be tougher. I’ve grown weaker over time, and she hasn’t.”
Lasha. A fighter Benedict himself acknowledged.
One of the continent’s top-ranked warriors.
And her name had risen to the top of the brackets, having defeated all the other opponents I considered challenging.
Chances of victory?
None.
I’m not exaggerating. I watched her fight from the participant section and concluded there’s zero chance I could beat her.
I mean, how am I supposed to survive against a fanatical servant of a god of strife? If we were back at the keyboard and mouse, maybe. But here, facing this monster directly?
<Is this Lasha really a servant of the god of strife?>
‘I wish she weren’t, but she is. I’m certain.’
When I first saw her fight, I just thought she was absurdly powerful; I didn’t immediately link her to a god of strife.
After all, the Lasha I watched from my screen looked different and went by another name.
But as I kept watching her demolish other opponents, a nagging familiarity grew stronger.
The way she swung her fists, the mannerisms she showed while advancing, even the phrases she uttered during fights—all of it started to feel familiar.
The final clue was the fierce energy surrounding her when she glanced at Benedict.
To most, including Benedict, it might have just seemed like intense determination. But I knew better.
As a Soul Academy veteran and Armadi’s disciple, I could tell that aura was undoubtedly from an evil god.
<Yet she seems quite sane, all things considered.>
‘On the outside, sure.’
Anyone who worships an evil god in this world risks wiping out their entire bloodline if they’re exposed, so those who do are usually complete maniacs.
Lasha is no exception—she might look composed, but she’s an utter lunatic inside. The kind of unhinged personality you’d never want around.
‘Even if I were mistaken, it wouldn’t change the fact that I stand no chance against her.’
The power gap is too vast. Even if I expended all the divine energy within me, I’d only be able to endure a few attacks at best.
There’s no way to defeat her. Since a loss is certain, it’s better to go down quietly rather than reveal my identity to an evil god’s servant and risk exposing myself.
The stat screen reward is out of reach, leaving that pervy fox god and the lecherous sage thrilled with the situation, but what choice do I have? There’s no way out.
Sigh. This is so unfair.
Why does an overpowered boss-level character have to appear here, just when my reputation is peaking?
Why does she have to block my path?
“Oh, Benedict’s daughter.”
Lost in thoughts of my cursed fate, I suddenly heard a chuckling voice beside me.
Turning, I was met with the sight of muscles so absurdly bulky that they’d make even the most seasoned knight seem scrawny by comparison.
The sheer bulk of the muscles before me made me question if we were the same species.
“You’re tiny. How did someone like you come from that huge guy?”
The woman, Lasha, looked down at me from her towering height with a curious gleam in her eyes.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lasha. I fought your father back in the day.”
Her laugh was filled with warmth, but my mind was racing. As a disciple of the Holy Lord, and with her as a servant of Nir, the god of strife, I knew the smile would turn the moment my true identity came to light.
“Want some candy? It’s sweet and tasty.”
‘...No, thank you, Lasha.’
“Who’s the child here? Unlike you, I’m mature. You musclehead.”
Watching her eyes narrow slightly, I mentally prepared to draw my mace and shield at a moment’s notice.
“Haha! ‘Musclehead,’ huh? You’ve got some spirit, just like Benedict’s daughter should.”
Luckily, my worst fears didn’t come to pass. Lasha’s hearty laughter filled the corridor, and she didn’t seem offended in the slightest.
Looks like she doesn’t know my true identity. She’s just seeing me as Benedict’s daughter. As long as I lose gracefully, I should be safe—
“Or are you giving me that attitude because you’re a servant of the Holy Lord?”
The words came out so casually, but they sent a chill down my spine.
She figured out I’m a disciple of the Holy Lord? How? I’m masking my divine power perfectly!
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Haha, Benedict’s daughter, you’re certainly skilled for your age, but you’re still young. You’re lacking too much to deceive me.”
As Lasha took a step forward, I quickly moved back, summoning my shield and mace.
It’s fine. Benedict is nearby. If I can just survive until he arrives, he’ll take care of everything.
The problem is whether I can last that long.
I have to.
If I don’t, I’m dead.
Bracing myself with divine power, I prepared for the worst. Lasha let out another booming laugh, loud enough that it brought people from the waiting room out to the corridor.
Why is she drawing so much attention to us? This isn’t going to end well for her.
Before I could make sense of her actions, Lasha surrounded us with a soundproof barrier, isolating our conversation from the outside.
“Calm down. I’m not planning to hurt you...yet.”
‘You expect me to believe that?’
“Oh? So you think my muscles are so big they’ve clogged up my brain?”
“Why would I kill a young warrior with so much potential?”
Seeing her shrug, I recalled her backstory.
“For the record, I didn’t become a servant of Nir out of devotion. I accepted because causing trouble gives me access to more strong fighters.”
Servant of the god of strife.
“Heck, Nir’s muttering something to me now, but why should I care? What I want is to clash with those like your father, maybe even those stronger. And someday, that might be you. Why would I kill you now, when I could fight you at your peak?”
A lunatic who values fighting strong opponents over everything else.
“Sure, I could crush you now, and Benedict would likely come after me with everything he’s got. That’d be fun too. But I can do that anytime, even after you’ve matured.”
With a grin that was as menacing as it was amused, Lasha gave a laugh, and my mentor let out a dry chuckle.
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
<You were right. She’s truly insane, treating an evil god as a mere tool.>
‘At least she’s crazy in a way that works to my advantage.’
A lunatic who’s willing to wait for a fight is better than one who’d attack me right now.
“Is there an issue, contestants?”
At the sound of an official’s voice knocking on the barrier, Lasha dispelled her magic, resuming her easygoing grin.
“Sorry, I got carried away meeting such raw potential. I guess I might’ve scared her a bit.”
“Oh, that’s all it was.”
“We talked it out, so no need to worry. Right, Benedict’s daughter?”
Lasha gave me a pointed look, and I nodded, dismissing my weapons.
It wouldn’t be just my life at risk if I created a scene here.
Satisfied, the official left with a reminder to keep things calm. Lasha waved me off with a cheery farewell.
“Oh, and Benedict’s daughter. Even if you can’t win, do your best. Otherwise, I might get...very upset.”
...Is that a death threat?