She studied for a mont with a look that bordered on curiosity and calculation. Her gaze wasn’t aggressive, but it carried the weight of soone who didn’t speak unless they had a reason to. There was no hostility—only a sharp, quiet confidence.
“You are him, aren’t you?” she said again, this ti not as a question, but a statent. “The one who took down Graham before he turned into a monster.”
“I suppose I am,” I replied, folding my arms. Considering hundreds of divine warriors had witnessed that fight, there was no way to keep it hidden. “And you are?”
“Erika Saito. From the fifth batch,” she said, giving a small nod. “I wasn’t in the arena, but I watched the replay… multiple tis.”
Fifth batch…? I paused, processing her words. That ant she was among the earliest divine warriors summoned to Fantasia—one of the veterans. Soone who had seen many more of the scenarios than the average divine warrior. No wonder she felt different. There was a quiet sharpness to her, like a blade kept hidden until drawn.
She suddenly reached behind her shoulder with her left hand, drew the katana strapped across her back, and pointed the blade at in a clean, practiced motion. “I want to spar with you.”
Michelle blinked in surprise. “Wait, really?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is this so kind of grudge match, or—?”
“No,” she cut in smoothly. “Graham was a hindrance I would’ve dealt with eventually. You simply beat to it. I’m not here for revenge—I just want to test myself. You fought soone way above your level and won. I want to see if I can do the sa.”
There was no arrogance in her voice. Just a calm, focused intensity—the kind that ca from soone who had trained hard and long, soone who wanted to sharpen herself against a real edge. I could respect that. And frankly, I wouldn’t mind testing my limits either.
“Alright,” I said with a shrug. “But I’m not going to hold back.”
A faint smile flickered at the corner of her lips, barely perceptible, but it was there. “Good. I hate weak opponents.”
Michelle looked between us with a surprised but intrigued expression. “Wow, you’re popular today.”
“Yeah, I think you’ve got the wrong idea here,” I muttered as I turned and made my way toward one of the unoccupied dueling cubes. “Seems like today’s turning into a sparring festival.”
Erika followed in silence, her katana lowered but still in hand. There was no doubt about it: she was strong. Maybe not quite on the level of Graham’s raw, monstrous strength, but in terms of pure technique and precision, she felt more dangerous. She was exuding both refined and focused movents, as if soone who had made swordsmanship not just a skill but a way of life.
The sparring that Boris and Igor were engaged in was still raging on as we entered the cube beside theirs. The mana barrier quickly shimred to life, sealing us inside.
I rolled my shoulders and stretched out my fingers, loosening each joint before unsheathing my sword. The familiar weight settled into my palm as I took my stance. Across the cube, Erika held her katana in a high stance—right foot forward, blade tilted slightly down, her grip so still as if she’d used this posture countless tis.
“Is that your weapon?” she asked, eyes flicking to my blade—Howling Edge.
“Yeah,” I replied. “It hasn’t been with for long, but I’ve grown a bit accustod to using it.”
“Then let’s see how good you are with the sword.”
Without warning, she launched at .
Her first step was like the wind—swift, fluid, and devoid of wasted motion. What followed was a clean, slicing arc that ca at faster than I anticipated. I barely managed to parry in ti, but her blade twisted around mine with elegant precision and bit into my shoulder. Pain flared sharp and imdiate. The wound wasn’t deep, but the strike was sothing I couldn’t have blocked or dodged.
What the heck?! How can she move like that?
I quickly backed off, trying to gain so breathing room. Fortunately, she didn’t press the advantage, simply returning to her stance. Her expression was as unreadable as ever. She’s dangerous…
Her attack had been impossible to block with pure instinct alone. She must have been soone who had practiced the sa motion thousands of tis until it beca second nature. As a precaution, I activated Inspect Eye on her.
Erika Saito
HP: 100%
Rank: Giml [3]
Patron God: Istellia (Goddess of Imagination)
Class: Samurai
Total Attribute Points: 2,024
Her pure stats alone weren’t significantly higher than mine, but her swordsmanship was in another league entirely. The Samurai class itself, although rare, wasn’t as unique a class as what Boris and Michelle possessed. Yet in her hands, her class was utilized to its fullest extent possible.
“What, getting cold feet already?” she taunted, noting my silence.
I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I rushed in, throwing a series of quick feints followed by a sudden diagonal slash ant to catch her off guard. But she deflected them all with minimal movent, her katana flowing like a stream around my blade. Her movent sliding like water over stone, like she’d danced this pattern a thousand tis before. Then ca another riposte from her, so fast that I barely managed to block just in ti, but her katana still grazed my side, leaving another cut.
“Ugh…” I grunted, staggering a half step back.
Her swordsmanship was a world apart from mine. Where I relied on instinct, she possessed form, timing, and rhythm. Each strike had weight behind it, not from strength, but from technique sharpened to lethal precision.
I already knew since the first exchange that I wouldn’t win this bout—not without revealing cards I couldn’t afford to play. In the Grand Colosseum, I had the advantage of terrain and distance. I could mask my abilities and disguise my tactics. But here, in this transparent cube under the watchful eyes of so many divine warriors, there was nowhere to hide.
And thus, the fight continued on with accumulating one small wound after another with every clash. She wasn’t overwhelming with power. No, Erika was carving apart, one precise cut at a ti.
If I couldn’t overpower her, then I had to make each exchange count. I began observing her footwork more carefully, watching how her hips turned during each strike, how she shifted her weight subtly before a parry. I tried to learn from her style even as I bled.
But then, I realized that she was doing the sa. Every ti I changed my rhythm or added a twist to my form, she adapted, improving her timing and tightening her guard. If Michelle was a genius who could adapt to changing scenarios, then Erika was a genius who learned you. The longer you fought her, the more you played into her hands. She was a mirror, sharpening her blade with your reflection.
“You are weak,” Erika’s voice rang in my mind. “How did you defeat Graham with power like this?”
Well, of course, that was because of my signature skill—Grant Plausibility—quietly buffing behind the scenes, but I wasn’t about to unveil that in a public sparring match with dozens of divine warriors watching from all sides. Still… this was getting out of hand. She hadn’t even unsheathed her second katana yet, and she was already pushing back. Clearly, she was still holding back.
That could be a problem. If I kept this up, soone might start wondering how I’d managed to defeat Graham at all. In rare situations like this, hiding my strength too much would attract more attention than otherwise. And too much attention wasn’t what I needed right now. So be it. If I wanted to shift the narrative a little, I had to raise the stakes.
With that in mind, I activated Wind Rush, and my body shot forward in a burst of speed. Erika’s eyes flickered with mild surprise as I suddenly closed the gap and brought down a powerful Heavy Slash. Our blades clashed hard. The force behind my strike reverberated through the barrier as Erika absorbed the blow and slid back a step.
The mont our blades disengaged, I pivoted—Predator’s Step activating and instantly repositioning behind her right side. She turned her head, reacting to my movent, but I was already driving the tip of my blade forward with a precise Heavy Stab, aiming for her side.
She spun at the last mont, her katana angling to parry the thrust.
Clang!
Sparks flew from the steel-on-steel contact.
For the first ti in the fight, she frowned a little. It appeared that my sudden and erratic movents had broken her tempo montarily. Nevertheless, I knew that this alone wouldn’t be enough to eke out a win.
While narrowing her eyes, Erika reached behind her shoulder and drew her second katana. The ringing chi of steel was sharp and crisp, and from that sound alone, I could tell that her weapons were of high quality, likely at least unique-grade.
“Be careful. I’ll be going all out from here,” she warned flatly.
I tensed imdiately as her stance shifted, becoming more fluid. Both blades were lowered in a dual-guard position. Then, without further warning, she vanished in a blur.
“Whirlwind Draw.”
Her blades flashed like twin streaks of silver. I barely managed to block the first strike with my buckler, then parried the second. I ducked beneath a third horizontal slash, but the fourth and fifth ca in too fast. One grazed my thigh, whereas the other nicked across my forearm, drawing a thin line of blood. I retaliated with Heavy Slash, but she deflected it aside effortlessly with her off-hand blade.
Tch, she’s fast. Too fast!
I gritted my teeth and activated Wind Rush again to leap backward, trying to create so distance. But she didn’t give the chance. She was already in the air, her silhouette blotting out the light as she dove. Her blades shimred with mana as she swung—a wide diagonal slash with both blades.
Unable to dodge, I raised my shield in ti.
“Gah…!” The impact sent a shock up my arm as the second blade crashed into my side.
Before I could fully recover, she pressed again. I parried the first blade and lunged forward for a counter, but it was a trap. She baited the strike, then twisted both her blades inward with perfect timing. They crashed against my wrist, the force jolting through my arm, causing my grip to slip.
With a flick of her wrist and a well-angled cut, she sent my sword flying across the cube, clattering it against the far wall.
And just like that, I was unard and breathing hard.
She pointed one katana at , calm and composed, while the other rested lightly at her side.
“Do you yield?”
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