“Aieeee! Hurgf…!”
She struck the man’s jaw a second time, forcing him into the ground. His body slammed into the stone floor, throwing pebbles across the arena.
“Huuurk… gaaarh…”
The Blue Cat’s face was trembling and misshapen. He coughed up blood. He was still conscious—not by his own strength, but because Fran was holding back.
“Aaarfgh… I hiff urf! Wheeze…!”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
The man was unintelligible, his breathing ragged. You could say he was literally tongue-tied. “I hiff urf…”
“You’re still not making sense.” Speaking with a broken jaw was very difficult.
“I hiff urf…!” The Blue Cat made an effort to kiss Fran’s feet to show that he really had “hiffen urf.” She only looked at him with a cold, piercing stare.
“Are Blue Cats so stupid they don’t know how to give up? I guess can’t blame you.”
Fran had planned this from the beginning.
“If you can’t give up because of your broken jaw,” she muttered. “I guess I’ll strip you and lay you out for all of town to see.”
She turned his own words against him, aiming the full weight of her murderous intent on the Blue Cat.
“Eeeerk! I’m horree! I’m horree! Heeease!”
He pleaded for mercy. She tossed a look at the referee as if to seek confirmation, and he hastily made his way into the ring to stop the match. Before he could make it, Fran took me in both her hands and pointed me at the Blue Cat.
“Time to end this.”
She swung me like a golf club.
“Gwaaaaaargh!”
She went for his jaw a third time, throwing him in an arc across the stadium. He flew for a good ten meters, maybe more, and landed outside the ring, his limbs twisted at an angle. The sight of it was enough to make anyone lose their appetite. Fran shouldered me again.
Even I thought that was a little much. I was worried about how the crowd would react to such a gruesome display of violence, but they roared with bloodthirsty appreciation.
“And we have a winner! The petite femme fatale sent the giant of giants flying in one fell swoop! Her cuteness might break your heart, but be careful that she doesn’t smash your face!”
Huh. I hadn’t noticed the commentator before. The voice carried through the venue out from manatech speakers.
“She wins the battle without once drawing her namesake! C-Rank Fran the Swordceress is your winner of the eleventh round of the west block qualifiers! She will proceed to the main event!”
The crowd erupted with applause. The tournament official came to guide Fran to another waiting room.
“Congratulations, Fran. You have made it to the finals.”
“Hm.”
The finals began the day after tomorrow. The roster would be announced tomorrow morning, and there was an opening ceremony around midday. Fortunately, combatants were not obligated to attend. I didn’t think Fran would be able to stand still if the nobles and officials started talking about her. She was never one for pomp and ceremony, and the entire procession would likely bore her to tears. With all the guests of honor participating, the Beast King was surely on the list. It would be best if we sat this one out.
In fact, even the official sounded as though he was steering us away from the procession. I suppose they didn’t want bloodthirsty combatants around with all the VIPs in attendance. What’s more, the roster would be delivered to each combatant’s living quarters, discouraging them from attending in person and reducing the chance that fights would break out.
Aside from that, finalists were given priority in Ulmutt’s smithies. The tournament provided Healing Mages and potions in case of grave injuries, but contestants were still required to have their armor inspected by a blacksmith, just in case.
Having heard the official’s explanation, Fran left the room, only to run into Judith.
“I didn’t stand a chance, Fran.”
“Are you okay?”
“For the most part… Good thing you held back.” She was disappointed that Fran knocked her out of the ring so quickly. Still, her anguish in defeat was tempered by the fact that Fran hadn’t killed her in one hit.
Fran didn’t know what to do in this situation. She fixed Judith with a troubled look.
“Oh, don’t worry about me. Actually, I came here to wish you good luck. You better fight extra hard for my sake.”
“Hm.”
“And I’m putting all of my money on you! So please, win the first round at least!”
“Even if I end up fighting Lydia?”
“If you do, I trust her to your expert care!” Judith gave her a reassuring thumbs-up. We took Judith’s words of encouragement and greed and left the venue.
“I’ll do my best.”
Yeah. We’ve got Judith’s livelihood riding on us now.
It was day two of the second round. We received the tournament roster in the afternoon and spent some time looking through it. Sixty-four combatants made it to the finals, separated into blocks A to D. Each block hosted sixteen fighters. Fran was number eleven in A-Block. We looked up the other fighters she would be facing, but it didn’t help.
First up is…Zehmet?
“Never heard of him.”
He’s not a seed, so he probably made it to the finals because of his strength. We should hit the guild to see if we can dig up some info. Elza might know his fighting style.
Next, we turned our attention to the tournament seeds.
“Amanda and Forlund.”
Royce and Gaudartha are here, too!
Their names were on the four corners of the roster. These must’ve been the top seeds. The elite combatants would still have to go through the same fights as us, though.
The first seed of A-Block was A-1: Gaudartha. The second was A-16: Colbert. Colbert fought with his bare hands, but he was strong enough to send the giant Linford flying. We had yet to see Gaudartha in battle, but considering his frame and skill selection, he was bound to be some kind
