Lasha.
The Hunter of the Strong.
To the warriors of the continent, her name was like a myth.
The very fact that she challenged someone to a fight was proof that they’d ascended to the ranks of the continent’s elite. Those who wielded weapons couldn’t help but tense up, hoping—and dreading—that she might come seeking them.
Her fame spanned the entire continent, and as such, her fighting style was well-known to many.
For example, it was known that Lasha, the Hunter of the Strong, would start every fight with a powerful first strike to test her opponent.
Boom!
Lasha’s punch collided with Lucy’s shield, sending a shockwave through the arena floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.
In the thick dust that obscured vision and caused many to cough, most spectators assumed the outcome had already been decided.
It was true that Lucy Allen had shown considerable skill thus far. She’d reached a level where she could handle real combat without issue.
Lucy’s shield technique, in particular, was so exceptional that even the arena’s seasoned fighters considered it tough to break through. Her shield wouldn’t easily fall to just any opponent.
But this time, her opponent didn’t fall under the category of “just any opponent.”
Lasha’s punch had silenced countless warriors who considered themselves strong.
It was an overwhelming attack, one that often left audiences hoping for a fierce battle with an empty sense of disappointment.
As a collective sense of Lucy’s impending defeat settled over the arena, a chilled silence swept through the stands.
Some regretted betting their money on her. Others laughed, saying the champion of this match was already decided. Still others murmured in excitement, eager to see Benedict fight Lasha.
But as the dust settled, it revealed Lucy, standing firm with her shield still raised against Lasha’s fist, a smirk curling at her lips.
“You blocked that?”
“With how obviously you charged at me, how could I not?♡”
What happened? Had Lasha held back? Or was Lucy Allen hiding her true strength?
As murmurs spread through the crowd, Benedict and the other true warriors replayed what had just happened in their minds.
Lucy didn’t go all out. She didn’t even use her best defensive move.
Nor had Lasha held back. She’d genuinely aimed to break Lucy.
Ordinarily, Lucy would have been sent flying, shield and all, crashing into the arena wall. Yet she’d managed to withstand Lasha’s punch due to her shield technique, which had reached an almost miraculous level.
Lucy’s shield had intercepted Lasha’s punch just before it reached full force, diffusing the impact—a feat that required foreseeing countless possible outcomes and choosing the best course of action.
Had I underestimated Lucy’s potential?
No. Up until her recent training with the knight order, Lucy hadn’t displayed such a level of skill.
Was it just a stroke of luck? Or maybe a miracle from the god watching over her?
Whatever it was, one thing was clear: if Lucy could keep this up, surviving a minute wasn’t out of the question.
“Haha! This might be more fun than I thought!”
While Benedict’s eyes glinted with faint hope, Lasha relentlessly pressed her attack on Lucy.
Sometimes with devastating power, sometimes with blinding speed, and sometimes with a barrage so intense it felt overwhelming.
Not a single attack was easy for Lucy to counter, but, as if to prove that her initial block was no fluke, she grit her teeth and managed to hold her ground against Lasha’s assault.
With each passing second, the atmosphere in the arena shifted.
Those who’d predicted Lasha’s easy victory fell silent, and those who had bet on Lucy now watched with wide eyes.
Witnessing the miracle of an underdog holding her own, many raised their voices in support of Lucy.
As if sensing the change in the crowd, Lasha smirked.
Her punch finally slipped past Lucy’s shield.
As her fist landed on Lucy’s side, a sound no human body should ever make echoed through the air.
Lucy’s body flew up, defying gravity, before crashing into the arena floor, the impact shaking the building.
Once again, silence descended upon the arena.
As I regained my scattered senses, the first thing that hit me was pain.
Ugh. Damn, that really hurts.
My bones were definitely broken, and the blood rising in my throat suggested that some internal organs were damaged as well.
Not that it was my first time experiencing this kind of thing. Forcing my eyelids open, I cast Armadi’s Mercy to restore my shattered body.
“Urgh!”
As my broken body started mending, the pain carved into my flesh forced a scream out of me.
Grandpa, how long has it been?
<23 seconds.>
R𝑒ad latest chapt𝒆rs at freewebnovёl.ƈom Only.
I lasted quite a while.
I didn’t expect Lasha to stick to her predictable attack patterns forever.
After all, anyone would find it strange to see their opponent countering every move as if they could see the future.
Still, I’d survived nearly half the time already. I just had to endure the rest on my own.
Steadying myself, I gathered every ounce of divine power I’d saved within me.
Even if I fainted once this fight ended, I had to give it my all—there was no other way I could hold out.
“Benedict’s daughter. Have we fought before?”
“As if♡. Why would a cute, delicate girl like me bother with a muscle pig like you?♡”
“Right. So that last block—that’s part of your skillset, huh? Interesting. I like it even more.”
“Ugh♡, disgusting♡. I hate sweaty women who reek through their skin♡.”
“That’s just slander. I keep myself quite clean, you know.”
With a mocking grin, Lasha took a step forward.
Forget about the in-game knowledge. If I focus on that, Lasha will only toy with me.
From here on, I had to rely on nothing but my own experience—the voice of ironclad survival that had kept me alive all this time.
Boom! As Lasha’s fist collided with my shield, reinforced by divine energy, the impact resonated through my bones.
This felt entirely different from when I’d relied on my stale game knowledge to time my parries. Even the slightest miscalculation could shatter the bones in my shield arm.
“Haha! So you can’t actually see the future, huh?”
Confident that I couldn’t pull off my previous feats, Lasha laughed ferociously, increasing her momentum.
Damn. Her attacks are too fast. I can’t keep up with every single punch. While I’m managing to protect the most vulnerable spots, it’s not enough to make much of a difference.
Lasha’s punches were deadly, no matter where they landed.
While I could grit my teeth and endure the pain, the accumulated strain on my muscles and bones was no joke. If this kept up, I wouldn’t last much longer.
And as if to confirm my fears, my leg finally buckled without warning under the force of her punches.
My balance crumbled, and my defense fell apart, as if Lasha had anticipated it. She drew her arm back, charging it with power.
I hurriedly gathered all my divine energy to form a barrier in front of my shield.
A half-baked spell would shatter on impact. I needed a miracle to withstand this blow.
Etching a holy seal with divine power in front of my shield, I prepared to recreate the tale my grandfather had passed down.
“Now that’s interesting!”
As her fist struck my divine shield, blood trickled from my lips.
The strain of pushing my limits without proper preparation had come back to bite me.
But my desperate effort yielded a meaningful result.
While the holy shield was destroyed, it blocked Lasha’s blow long enough for me to withstand the brunt of her attack. My body flew up, crashed into the ground, and rolled several times, but I still had enough strength to move.
Wobbling as I got to my feet, I spat out the blood pooling in my mouth and pushed my disheveled hair back from my face.
I saw Lasha advancing toward me from a distance.
<Young lady, since you have a moment, let me ask you one thing.>
Is this really the time?
<Why did you abandon your initial analysis of the opponent?>
What are you talking about?
<Why didn’t you use your knowledge of her preferred tactics?>
Because once she saw through my strategy, that knowledge became useless.
The moment I clung to that stale knowledge, she would’ve started toying with me.
I’d learned that lesson the hard way, even in my previous arena fights, when my opponents eventually caught on to something odd. How would any of that work against Lasha?
Against a strong enough opponent, my game-based knowledge could be an unexpected variable, but it wouldn’t guarantee a win.
Unless they lost their mind, like Nakrad did.
<I see.>
If you have something to say, say it now! I don’t have time for this!
<Trust me. Follow my instructions and use your knowledge. But don’t rely on it blindly; use it as a guide.>
Grandpa, that’s—
<Just do it! Complain all you want afterward!>
Ugh, fine! How am I supposed to just do that on command?
I wanted to argue, but there was no time for complaints. Lasha was already in front of me.
“How much longer can you hold out?”
Boom! Steeling my arms against the numbing pain, I recalled Grandpa’s advice.
He wants me to use my game knowledge?
But Lasha’s movements have changed precisely to counter that knowledge. How am I supposed to apply it?
This is why I hate dealing with smart people—they assume everyone thinks on their level and end up explaining things poorly.
“No time to daydream!”
Lasha’s voice snapped me back, and as her punch came flying toward me, I moved instinctively.
Following that knowledge engraved in my soul, my only source of pride—the strategies honed through countless hours.
Ah, crap. This move was countered ages ago.
It’s too late to back out now. I need to brace myself for the blow and figure out how to recover afterward.
Shiiing! A sharp sound rang out as my shield met her fist. It wasn’t merely blocking—it was a successful just parry.
Why? Why did it work?
As I stared at her next punch, the realization dawned on me.
Lasha’s attacks might not align with the game’s patterns, but they weren’t completely different. After all, the patterns in the game were based on her most favored attacks.
Even if her moves had been altered, the core elements remained the same.
So, that’s it. All those hours spent grinding to beat the Apostle of Strife with bare hands weren’t wasted. I just hadn’t known how to use them properly.
Realizing this, I lifted my shield with a grin.
<10 seconds left.>
And for the first time, I felt certain I wouldn’t lose.
...Wait. Did I just trigger a defeat flag?