The actual tournament didn’t start until half an hour after his conversation with Masaru. In that time, he tried his best to watch how the other martial artists were doing their enhancements to no avail. He was simply not the type of person to learn how to do something with just a glance, no matter how much he wished himself to be.

  There were no other preparations to be done other than his mental preparations and making sure his spear won’t suddenly break in the middle of a match. He was as ready as he could be.

  He took a deep breath. Focus. I need to put in my best effort and last as long as I can.

  “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the one hundred and twelfth annual Morganburg tournament!” A voice echoed out throughout the tournament grounds. His eyes flicked over to a raised podium in the middle of the grounds, where a man stood and gestured exaggeratedly.

  Despite the people around being brimming with energy even before the tournament, the announcement seemed to have drawn out even more as martial artists and spectators alike cheered.

  “Peerless Sword! Go Peerless Sword! Show ‘em your blade!”

  “No! Indomitable School will win this year! They ain’t going to move for anyone!”

  “You won’t even see it coming! Void Arts Dojo! They will win for sure!”

  Three names echoed out around the grounds. Lee assumed that these were the popular schools around the city, with how fervent the screams from the spectators were. Schools I’ve no way to get into, then. He’ll have to keep those names in mind in the future. Perhaps he might be able to at least glean some insight from them, even if they don’t let him join.

  “Wow!” The announcer laughed a bit. “That’s a nice cheer! Now, I’m sure you want to watch the fights happen, but first, let me announce our sponsors first…”

  Lee tuned out the advertising as he watched his surroundings. While the announcer rattled off some names, a couple of people brought around a table and a cloth around every ring. The judge’s seat, perhaps, for every bracket. It was a bit confusing on why exactly they were only doing it now, but perhaps it was so that the seats don’t interfere with the path.

  It was evident that while there was much excitement flowing around for the tournament to finally start, many were like him, tuning out the advertising and watching the competitors. Last minute preparations, tightening belts and fixing clothes, plenty of nervous tics that competitors were doing. At least, I’m not the only one that’s nervous…

  It helps a bit with his own thoughts. Yes, many of the fighters in the Beginner bracket were certainly better fighters than he was… but if he can maintain his own focus and mentality by not getting distracted by the crowd, he could possibly exploit their own mental weaknesses. Still a long shot, but it’s technically possible.

  He doubted many of the competitors in the Beginner bracket were experienced. While he was sure that many were skilled, they may not have the experience to put their skill into practice. That will be his advantage. In a fight, hesitation was defeat, so he’ll have to apply the pressure and make his enemies mess up.

  While he was thinking this, the announcer seems to have finally finished his long spiel of thanks for the sponsors. “… and that’s our sponsors! Now, for the reason we’re all here! The tournament!” A drum roll echoed out around the tournament area as the announcer paused to build up suspense. “It’s officially… begun!”

  The people cheered once more. “Now, for everyone new here—and I’m sure there’s plenty of you around—there are three brackets that you get to watch! First: The Master bracket!” With a sweeping motion, he gestured towards the first ring, surrounded by what looked to be highly skilled fighters. He had passed through their spot earlier, but it was only now that he had actually looked at them.

  From sight alone, he could tell they were strong. They may not look like they have the strongest bodies compared to some soldiers in the army that he had seen, but that couldn’t be any more wrong. Their bodies were functional, built exactly how they wanted it—to further specialize into their chosen style. It was a body sculpted from years of hard work and training to push their styles into the next level.

  It was eye opening. In the army, while there were certainly people stronger than most martial artists (in terms of pure physical strength), there were certainly none that had built their body to match their skills. None in the regular legions, at least. This was a sign of mastery, of people who had pursued their craft so well that their mind and body may as well be one and the same.

  “The Master bracket is exactly what it sounds like! Masters from around the Empire gather here to fight it out for our entertainment!” The announcer exclaimed. “Flashy skills! Impressive strength! Everything you could think a master could do, they definitely can!”

  A cheer burst out of a lot of spectator’s mouths. “We have the masters of the Indomitable School and the Peerless Sword! The Roaming Swordsman! And the dark horse—the Major of the local garrison! Wow! Who’d have thought an officer would know how to actually fight!” A chuckle broke out among the populace. “There’s many more! But I’m sure you folks will figure out who you like when they actually start fighting!”

  The announcer made another sweeping gesture to point towards the second ring. “Now! The Intermediate bracket! Sorry to say, but they’re not as good as the Masters!” He chuckled as he said this, and the crowd laughed in return. The Intermediate fighters themselves didn’t seem to find it too insulting, some even going along with the joke. There were some that played up their reactions, but the people in that bracket seemed to just go along with it.

  “Plenty of impressive fighters here! From the three big schools around the city, of course, but also plenty of ‘Roaming Warriors’,” the announcer grinned. “… plenty of adventurers too. Hey, maybe some people in the crowd can give them jobs! I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

  Then the announcer moved on to finally announce the bracket Lee was involved in. “And last—but not least—the Beginner’s bracket! This one, in my humble opinion, is one to watch, folks! There’s a lot of Morganburg’s new generation in that bracket! The Peerless Sword’s own daughter, the Indomitable School’s Prodigy! And many more! I’m sure that some people would prefer to see potential rather than what is, eh?”

  Cheers rang out the crowd as the announcer chuckled. “Well—now that we’re done with the introductions, I’m sure everyone would love to finally get to the point, so I will now announce that the Annual Morganburg Tournament has officially begun!”

  The cheers were deafening. Spectators rushed into the tiered seatings, and there were a lot more watching the Beginner bracket than he had been expecting. From his eyes alone, it looked as if the Masters bracket had the least spectators. Lee wasn’t sure why—perhaps because it was difficult to watch and understand them? Or maybe because people were looking to use the tournament as a scouting platform.

  Either way—this ended up being good for him. He had thought that people in Morganburg, being as saturated as they are with martial artists, would congregate towards the highest skilled fighters by default. He thought that watching beginners fight it out would surely be beneath most of the spectators—but it seemed he had been wrong.

  The announcer ended up detailing a few more things—such as who would act as an announcer for the specific brackets. There was also a demonstration on how the different announcers would talk without speaking over each other, considering the short proximity between each fight. It turns out—somewhat easily, with some artifice that allowed a speaker to talk to everyone within a certain range, which just so happened (or the likelier answer of having built the small arenas to its specification) to be the size of a ring and its surrounding seatings.

  The very same announcer ended up being the announcer for the Beginner bracket, and he had begun the fighting by calling out the fighters for the first match. “Hello again, folks! I already said it earlier, but I’m announcing for the Beginner Bracket! But, before we begin, I must say, it’s a bit difficult to have this go on with an uneven number! I’m afraid someone will have to fight twice for the first round of matches!” the man’s eyes gleamed. “Is there any fighter willing to do so?”

  “Yeah. I’ll do it,” a fighter strode up confidently. Lee recognized it as the boy with the studded club that he heard talking earlier. He’s not just confident, Lee noted. He’s skilled. And from the looks of it… he doesn’t care if everyone else finds out just exactly how skilled he is. Or perhaps, he’s confident that even if other people knew, he’d be able to handle it.

  Either way, this is something I have to watch. It wouldn’t be every day he saw someone who was infinitely more attainable in skill than a master of the art.

  “Oh! The Prodigy himself, eh? Let’s start this off then,” the announcer grinned. “Then! Luke Rivers, the Indomitable School’s Prodigy, will start us off! And your foe will be…”

  The ‘fight lottery’ was surprisingly low-tech despite everything else that was in use. A simple clear ball with paper inside, presumably filled with the names of all the competitors. The crowd held its breath as the announcer deliberately rummaged through the papers slowly, building up the suspense.

  After around half a minute, he finally pulled out a name.

  “… and our lucky competitor is… Fry Fisher!” There were no cheers to this name, only polite applause. Not a known name, then. Lee winced as he saw the teen that stood up, wearing no armor and wielding nothing but a simple trident and a net. This won’t be good…

  The two fighters walked into the ring, with Luke walking in with a self-assured gait. Fry, meanwhile, looked as if he was handed an execution notice. Considering that he looked to be a normal fisherman, it might as well have been.

  I’m… really glad I got lucky there. While the fight could’ve been educational, he did not want to be knocked out so early, without the chance to having shown his skill to the people watching. It would’ve been highly embarrassing, and a massive waste of time.

  He was somewhat close to the ring, so he was able to hear the two fighters talk as the announcer did his job of spewing out the accolades associated with the two fighters—though given that many of the fighters in the bracket were young, he doubted there would be such a long, and accomplished list. Especially not for one person in the fight right now.

  “Ya sure you wanna go through with this fight? Why not just surrender? I won’t have to waste my energy on you, and you don’t get beaten up,” the prodigy cockily smirked. “Good deal, eh?”

  “Sorry, sir Prodigy,” the fisher boy’s voice was shaky, but he still managed to crack a small grin against the taunt. “But I came from too far to just give up now!”

  “Hah, sure thing then,” Luke’s smile widened. “I’ll try not to beat you up too bad!”

  “Oooh, spicy words from our contestants!” The announcer broke in after his spiel. The crowd went wild when the words that the two fighters said were broadcasted—which was a weird feeling for Lee, as he could hear both their words and the sound projection, as the projection was very slightly delayed. “Looks like this is going to be a nice fight, folks! I’m sure they’re itching to fight already, so I’ll count them down now!”

  “Three!” The fisher boy’s hands tighten on his trident as he settled on a tight stance, holding his net in a way that he could throw it to his enemy quickly.

  “Two!” Luke kept a smirk on his face as he held his club to his side, his stance entirely open, as if begging for Fry to throw the first punch.

  “One!” A tense silence passed…

  “GO!”

  The fisher boy dashed forward, intent on taking the initiative.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  But now—Lee had a perfect view on why the Indomitable School was called Indomitable—and why this person with the club, Luke, was considered its prodigy.

  Luke did not move. He did not need to. He waited for the other fighter to get into range, and when he did…

  He swung his club.

  An understatement for what had happened—he almost hadn’t noticed the massive enhancement that he had done in just a moment. The single swing had knocked the other boy straight out of the ring, uncomprehending of what happened.

  That was the exact thing I wanted to do… A surprise boost to his physical parameters to pierce weak points, to be precise, but that… That was a massive boost to his physical strength, just pure strength. No speed, no defense… Just pure strength, taking someone out of a fight immediately. Lee could not even think about how much mana that must have cost. It wouldn’t be efficient for him to try and do that. His own boosts were significantly weaker than that.

  It spoke of the reserves he must have, and how confident he was to do it again.

  The quick fight left the arena speechless… and the Prodigy simply looked into the crowd with a smirk.

  “Well… who’s next?”

  The Prodigy was very quickly made to sit down to get other fights out of the way first. That first match was an excellent opener, getting the crowd to cheer like madmen as the medics carried out the loser on a stretcher. For Lee, who had been expecting to see a little bit of fighting to try and make strategies against the big fighters in the tournament, it was a bit disappointing.

  How do I counter pure strength like that?

  There was no amount of strategy that would matter when there was such a massive gulf in strength like that. It was evident that the Prodigy was not just strong—his quick boost was mainly for his strength, yes, but he also likely had good reflexes and good speed. A martial artist that only focused on one tool was vulnerable, after all.

  The quick answer was that, in a fight with purely self enhancement and martial arts? There was no way for Lee to contend against it. He had no tools to fight it or resist it. All he would be able to do was take it head on and hope he survives.

  And wasn’t that a kick in the head for Lee? That was why he had come here, after all—to solve issues like that. He wants to find a way to deal with an overwhelming force, but he doesn’t even know how to start with doing it, other than matching it in pure strength. Which he cannot do.

  Well, Lee thought grimly. At least I wasn’t the first one out of the tournament.

  Lee could not focus much on the fights after that—the so-called daughter of the Peerless Sword was extremely skilled, but he could not appreciate it as well, deep in thought as he was. In fact, she had added on more to his woes—what little he had understood was that she was extremely fast and intelligent in how she fought. So now came the question, when they were stronger, faster, and generally better, what can he do?

  The realistic answer is nothing. Lee had no special powers and no special technique that would allow him to undoubtedly win. The only thing he could have would be a better understanding of magic, but he didn’t know if he even had that, considering how inefficient his internal enhancement was compared to theirs.

  Did that mean he should give up?

  Hell no. He may not be the greatest fighter, but he had his own pride. Besides, the other competitors were similar to him too—and they hadn’t given up yet. Why should he give up when the fight isn’t over yet? Why would he simply decide to lie down and let the world kick him, giving him opponents like this?

  No, he will have to use this opportunity to learn. Experience was a good teacher—but it was a harsh one. It is practically guaranteed that he will be hurt. Did this matter? Not really.

  Pain was a fact of life—and it was especially so when the person pursued what he did. He wanted combat experience, and there was no combat experience without a little pain.

  And then finally, after what felt like a long time…

  “… and our next fighter is… Lee Hill! We don’t know much about him, but he’s fighting Harold Nil, a student of the Unrelenting Fists!” the announcer’s voice rang out. Lee stood to walk into the ring, holding his spear tight as he side-eyed his opponent, a young man with gray hair with bandages wrapped around his fists.

  A small bit of relief appeared in his heart. Good, he thought. I have an advantage. Lee had far better reach than his foe. The man looked to be an unarmed fighter—a spear user can keep their distance quite well if they don’t get too aggressive. However, Lee didn’t know whether or not the person had any advantages of his own.

  He could infer a few, just from observing his enemy—excellent bodily conditioning, perhaps excellent internal enhancement as well. Likely, he was planning to rush him and bat away his spear tip. Lee would have to play keep away and punish him with a whack on the head with the handle if he managed to slip past. People were often surprised when they found out that the whole spear is a weapon, not just its tip.

  Nevertheless, with him right in front of Lee within the ring, he must stay focused and win.

  “And the fight…” the announcer let the suspense build as Lee tightens his hold on his spear, keeping his stance firm. “Begins!”

  His enemy rushes forward immediately. He is fast—which Lee had expected. Lee kept his spear pointed towards him, attempting to stop his momentum with a quick jab, but the man slapped his tip away from his body as he continues to rush forward.

  Unfortunately for his enemy, Lee expected this as well. The small distance gained allowed him to use his spear as a club and smash it to the side of his enemy’s chest, making him cry out as he stumbled to the side. Lee used the opportunity to kick him in the stomach, creating distance between the two of them and thrusting towards him with his spear.

  The man couldn’t stop him in time. Lee wasn’t aiming for a deathblow by cutting open his stomach, instead aiming for the man’s leg to try and debilitate him. The man saw it coming and dodged sideways, keeping his distance as he warily looked at Lee, seemingly readjusting his threat level.

  That’s right, Lee internally smirked. I’m not helpless in close range. Truthfully, a spear user was never really helpless in any range outside of the range used by archers and mages—there was a reason that soldiers were trained in their use since time immemorial. There was its usefulness in the formations that the Empire preferred for its soldiers, of course, but a spear—or rather, most polearms—had very good range.

  And more often than not, range was king. Until the enemy was so far above your level that distance was a suggestion. But that wasn’t particularly common to see as a normal person.

  “… Fine,” his enemy scowled. “I have no choice, then.”

  His enemy crouched down, as if gathering strength. Lee tensed, a strange energy filling the air. No, that could be bad, I need to stop that! He didn’t wait for his enemy to finish his technique, lunging forward, aiming to end the match with one decisive thrust.

  Then the man dashed forward.

  Normally, this would have meant Lee’s defeat. Unfortunately for the man, his dash forward was extremely stupid, owing to the fact that Lee was pointing his spear towards him—and that he seemed to be unable to change direction.

  His enemy impaled himself on Lee’s spear, his spear stuck in the man’s shoulder as his enemy shouted out in pain.

  “And that’s match! Wow! That was… That was definitely something!” the announcer didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Frankly, Lee didn’t know what to say about it either—it was somewhat anticlimactic to have the fight end like that. “Well, I’m sure our healers can fix him right up. The winner is Lee Hill! Great job, kid!”

  Cheers and laughs rang out the area as healers arrived inside the ring, carefully pulling out Lee’s spear and applying some sort of ointment and spell onto the wounds. Lee was ushered out the arena and sat on a bench as a healer did their rounds around him, checking for any wounds and problems (even though he hadn’t been hit once), and then leaving him alone to wait for his next match.

  Lee was about to space out, but the next fight was had his attention as the announcer spoke.

  “Now after that somewhat humorous fight, we have another! This is… Masaru Nil, from the Void Arts Dojo! Fighting against Pan Miller, an adventurer!”

  Cheers rang out as the two fighters stepped into the ring. Lee watched curiously as Masaru walked inside, his short stature inviting a snort of derision from his opponent. In contrast to Masaru’s small and relatively thin form, Pan Mill was built like a brick wall. He was tall, with large muscles, and an even larger axe.

  It was obvious that the man had a lot of strength, though Lee was not sure how skilled he was with his weapon. A strong body is good, and could decide fights on its own, but against a skilled enough fighter, it would be meaningless, especially with the existence of internal enhancements. Lee had thought that Masaru was not aware of them, but he said that he was, so Lee was curious as to how he would be using it.

  Lee wasn’t sure if Pan Miller was using any enhancement of his own—but he must be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be in this tournament, right? But at the moment, he was watching the two face off, not moving an inch, seemingly without any enhancements, waiting for the announcer to start the match.

  “And the match… begins!”

  The match began with an explosive start—Pan Miller had suddenly rushed forward, a pulse of mana momentarily enhancing his legs as he burst forward with speed Lee didn’t think he could have, his axe over his head, aiming to cleave(?) Masaru in two.

  Is he looking to kill him?! Lee stood up as his eyes widened in shock. Many people in the spectator stands did the same as gasps rang out. Even if the weapon was blunted, a heavy blow like that aimed towards someone’s head would do major damage, and perhaps even kill. Whatever his reasons, this was definitely not allowed, even in Morganburg.

  But Masaru simply dodged.

  It was done casually, as if he had already known that his opponent would be aiming where he was. To be fair, it wouldn’t be particularly difficult to guess what his opponent’s target would be, but the sheer speed that Pan was rushing towards him would’ve had Lee use a quick boost to dodge out the way.

  Masaru had done it unenhanced.

  Pan’s attack cracked the stone floor of the arena. He seemed to be angry that Masaru managed to dodge his attack, trying to pull out his axe from where he had buried it.

  Masaru did not let him—despite his smaller frame, he knew exactly where to hit and when to hit. While the bigger man was distracted, Masaru rushed him with a quick punch to the throat. Lee winced as he watched the bigger man choke as he stumbled back.

  Masaru rushed forwards again, but Pan proved he wasn’t just a brute. With lightning quick reflexes, he raised his arm forward in an attempt to grab the smaller fighter. It seems he had miscalculated his speed though, and instead of a grab, it ended up being a backhand, smacking Masaru’s chin with the back of his palm and sending Masaru reeling back.

  The hit did not stop him. He recovered quickly, and now Masaru was between Pan and his axe, his arms raised in a stance that Lee did not recognize.

  Pan spat out a glob of spit mixed with some blood. “Pah, lucky brat.”

  Masaru simply gave a small smile. He did not deign to give his opponent an answer.

  They stayed like that for a few moments. Pan was approaching the fight differently now—he seemed much more cautious, as if trying to figure out how Masaru managed to avoid his blows. It was not to last, and this time, Masaru was the one that broke the quiet by rushing forward.

  It was not explosively fast, but it was still quick. Masaru did not have the strength or body weight to be able to just tackle Pan without having unbalanced him beforehand, but either Pan didn’t know that or he was too cautious about what Masaru was about to do. The bigger man braced himself ready as Masaru ran towards him.

  Unfortunately, he misread his opponent—Masaru hit him in the chin with a wonderful execution of a high kick, knocking his head backwards. He looked to be dazed as Masaru continued his assault, bringing down his leg and knocking down the larger man to the floor.

  “Oh! Masaru Nil knocked Pan Miller down! Is this the end for this adventurer!?” the announcer slammed his hands down on his table as he stood up. “This might be the end of the line for this contestant!”

  “I… I ain’t done—”

  Masaru did not let Pan continue. Instead of waiting for him to get up, he kicked his head into the floor once more, finally knocking his enemy out.

  “Wow! That was a lightning-fast victory!” The announcer cheered amongst the screams of jubilation from the crowd. “That looked like it could’ve gone badly for Masaru Nil, but he turned it around! Give it up for… Masaru Nil!”

  The cheers intensified as Masaru walked out of the arena, attended to by one healer while Pan Miller was dragged out by his feet.

  Lee was stumped. Masaru, throughout the fight, had not shown any internal enhancements. He didn’t catch what he was doing at all. He did not look to be moving exceptionally fast or hit exceptionally stronger that was typical of an individual using an internal enhancement technique.

  That was just… pure skill. Masaru had used the bigger man’s own aggressiveness against him, punishing him for his arrogance and recklessness. He only initiated a fight when he knew he could finish it—and even then, he still hit him in places that would deal the most damage. A jab to the throat and a kick to the chin, especially when you were braced for something different, hurts.

  And yet, despite that, Masaru had claimed he knew how to do enhancements. If so, why did he not use it for his fight? Was he keeping something under wraps? It was difficult to know. Lee wasn’t about to ask him or blab about it either—he knew the importance of operational security.

  This is crazy, Lee quietly laughed to himself. A kid knocked someone twice his size with nothing but skill and another one ended a fight in one blow. How am I going to stand out here?

  The experience was both humbling and demoralizing. He had thought he had been something special—a teen (at the moment) that knew how to fight like a soldier, with some knowledge of magic and the army’s way of internal enhancement.

  Unfortunately, a simple soldier was not enough to compete in a tournament like this. Lee supposed it makes sense—soldiers did not need to be the best at fighting. Only the best at executing the orders their leaders demanded of them.

  Maybe this was why I never got promoted, Lee idly thought. Well… that’s why I’m here, anyway. I guess I should prepare to take a hit to my coins and look around for a proper spear school…

  He sighed internally as he waited for his fight. To be blunt, his idea of attracting possible masters by performing decently in the tournament was a lost cause anyway. While he certainly could do well in a fight, he was not particularly good at actually winning them. As a soldier, he frequently had his comrades by his side, finishing off those he couldn’t kill.

  Staying in formation also forced the enemies into tactics that would not be used in a normal straight on fight. Much of his combat was very unlike what he had seen in the forest a month back. Those Hands and Blades were fighting very differently from what he had enshrined as ‘combat’ within his mind. Despite this, he had not really changed his view on what combat could be—but now that he was here, it was hard to keep holding on to the idea that combat is essentially large-scale battles.

  Combat is so much more than two large forces hitting each other. It’s a bit shameful to think about—but he had grown arrogant and complacent despite his lacking skill. He kept thinking that knowing how to fight as a soldier of the Empire meant that he knew how to fight on his own. But he forgot one fact about himself.

  He was no genius. He could not adapt a style that suited a soldier to one that suited him. He was, in the end, just mediocre.

  Still… I must learn, Lee chanted it to himself like it was a mantra. I must learn. I must learn.

  Even if he wasn’t a genius, surely, he could pick up a few things?

  nothing in Latin? I don't exactly remember.