RedOwl: She really is a dungeon boss.

  Popcorn5: What's happening? I'm at work.

  OutsiderFan71: Should have taken off.

  Popcorn5: Like I can do that.

  RedOwl: Nothing dramatic. She's just beating everyone.

  Hero194: Yeah, it's totally different from the guild match we saw at the start.

  RedOwl: You lost too, huh?

  Hero194: Nah, my division just finished early, so I ran over to watch.

  Indigo997: Yeah right.

  Hero194: No, really! Ugh, whatever, I'm not doxxing myself.

  RedOwl: If you're serious about that, you kind of already did.

  Hero194: Ugh... just keep it to yourself, okay?

  ***

  The other people who won in my division were only teenagers, whereas the other finalists were all fairly large adults.

  Furthermore, our place in the finals got randomized. I think it was a bit more than just randomized, because nobody opened against someone else from the same bracket.

  I was up against a guy who didn't have any weapons though.

  'Ugh... there's no way I can fake a loss against that...'

  ***

  With the natural dramatic flair of a seasoned pro, Kid's first finals match was put last, giving her ample chance to size up every last competitor before it was time for her own match.

  The first round of matches took the longest, since there were eight to get through.

  However, they were also the most unfair.

  Surprisingly, another kid from the youth division managed a victory, but the other two were defeated fairly quickly. Well, he was a kid compared to his opponent, but he was still around sixteen or so, so it wasn't that big of a difference.

  At the height of skill, physical differences became oppressive and absolute, but if anyone had approached those lofty heights, they would have likely already earned their Skills, so most everyone in the tournament was an actual rookie.

  So skill and competence were still very important factors here.

  A variety of fighting styles were on display, although nobody had managed to make ranged weapons work for the tournament's particular setup, so it was down to melee combat for the finalists.

  A professional adventurer could. One of the winners of the initial exhibition matches used a bow at nearly point blank range and handily won.

  But these weren't pros.

  ***

  After watching the other fights, it was finally my turn.

  "They told me you're surprisingly good, so I'm sorry, but I can't hold back."

  "Sure..."

  'Why was he sorry? Even if he won, I'd be fine.'

  Actually, I wished he would.

  Once the match started, he almost did everything right too.

  I was impressed!

  He managed to handily catch my sword and disable my sword arm. In another moment, I'd be on the floor, and my defeat would be assured, with absolutely no way to counter his raw strength.

  But I had always carried a knife or two in my pockets, so I fetched one with my other hand, and drove it up into his neck while his hands were busy efficiently disarming me.

  And so it was my victory again.

  'Wait... why did I do that?'

  I was the only person who knew about those knives. Sure, I probably mentioned them a couple times to the guild, but they didn't need to know I actually had one.

  And besides, even if they did, normal people would flinch when their arm's forced into a painful grab like that. That was the whole point of what that martial artist was doing: disarming and stunning me in the same fluid motion.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  'What a blunder...'

  ***

  Suon was impressed with the martial artist. Not just against Kid but in general.

  In a tournament full of weapons, he'd managed without them, and done quite well.

  It was probably past the point of earning a Skill, but Skills weren't given out like rewards. Still, the man would probably become an impressive adventurer someday, so it felt good watching promising youths in the early days of their careers.

  Of course, his seniors thought similar thoughts whenever they looked his way, but he didn't ever quite realize that.

  "But that's our dungeon boss for you," he said to no one in particular, his words caught on camera as he continued recording Kid like an enamored parent at a sports festival. "Oh. I hope her arm's okay."

  Since Kid didn't show any signs of pain, aside from massaging her arm before grabbing her sword again, he concluded that she must be fine, and that she'd probably just get annoyed with him if he pestered her about it.

  'Although that wouldn't be so bad, I might get in trouble if I tease her too much.'

  ***

  It was now down to eight participants, each one having earned the dungeon boss's eye, not by showing great potential, but simply because she might have to fight them later.

  Of course, she'd earned their attention too. Having a secret pocket knife was perfectly within the rules, but her willingness to use it in a pinch had made them all wary.

  But before they had to worry about that, six of the eight finalists had to worry about their own matches.

  The first was between two swordsmen, albeit with vastly different styles.

  One used what ought to be a greatsword, and he had a physique to match. Anyone with a gamer sense would assume slow but powerful blows from him.

  The other was a teenaged boy who used a longsword as a two-handed weapon.

  Compared to Kid's one-handed rapier, both had exceptional reach and versatility with their weapons.

  However, life was no video game.

  "Damn...!"

  The boy tried to parry the giant man's attack, hoping to use his presumed advantage of speed to follow-up... but while his stance and the position of his sword ensured his chest and head were safe, he saw that long blade slash in the corner of his eyes like lightning.

  And before he knew it, it sliced through his ankle, doing more than merely grazing it, but alas not biting so deep to leave his assailant unbalanced.

  Though even if it had, the sudden flash of pain completely disabled him as he recoiled, falling back on his butt.

  There was nothing more frightening than a downed opponent in theory, since even though they couldn't move, it was very difficult to guard against such low attacks.

  In practice, the solution was superior reach, and the giant of a man had that.

  Were it his first match, he'd have hesitated, but the surreality of seeing people he'd killed come back had already settled in, and so his next strike was to the boy's neck, stabbing through it with enough force to instantly trigger the dungeon's resurrection.

  Then he exhaled, his hands shaking as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

  That was his seventh life or death fight in the day. Of course, he wasn't actually going to die, but no matter how much he told himself that, since he'd so far only won, his body didn't really understand he wasn't in danger.

  "Landle wins!"

  But while the crowd cheered, he only had one thought.

  "Just how do the pros manage to do this all the time...?"

  ***

  The next fight was between a spearman and someone with a flail.

  Flails weren't ordinarily the best weapon in combat. They used more indirect force than a club, making their status as a force multiplier questionable.

  However, they were hard to master and ruthlessly difficult to defend against.

  So it served as an awfully effective weapon in this beginner's tournament, at least in the hands of someone who knew how to use it.

  The simplicity and frankly plain superiority of a spear was an awful match for him though.

  His opponent didn't rely on blocking as a first line of defense, so a weapon that got around blocks had little advantage there. Space and distance were this spearman's tools.

  He would have to beat the footwork of someone who treated it as their main, perhaps only line of defense, just to have a chance of winning.

  Furthermore, against a sword or a club, he could try wrenching the weapon aside, but a spear attacked him like a point rather than an approaching line. It wasn't impossible, but it was awkward to say the least.

  "Well... I got this far... hah, I'm ready!"

  "Good luck!"

  At least everyone was being a good sport.

  Of course, nobody wanted to prove they were a bad egg in front of one of the biggest guilds in the country, but logic tended to fold against adrenaline, and yet though there were a few outbursts, most everyone was behaving quite well that day.

  ***

  So far, everybody had taken the fights pretty seriously, but nobody had managed to properly reach an understanding of what it meant to fight with death on the line.

  People avoided getting hurt, tried their best, and it all sort of resembled sparring but without the usual safety limits.

  Of course, since beginner dungeons were a reality, such lethal sparring did occasionally happen in them. Would-bes without Skills rarely dabbled much in public dungeons, since their primary goal was learning how to hunt and trying to earn a Skill.

  They didn't rely on private coaches, instead learning from common wisdom, and common wisdom said to reduce risk.

  It was a fine curriculum for new adventurers, since frankly, life or death situations were the realm of A and B rankers fighting at the front lines against wild dungeons and monsters to protect humanity.

  There was plenty of time to grow into that role, and since high rankers were quite rare, it was practically a waste of time to train every could-be for something they might never become.

  But in a fit of raw understanding, Suamley the flail user realized that he didn't have to outmatch his opponent.

  He just had to survive.

  Although his weapon sucked at stopping a simple spear thrust, he did what he could to make an obvious but nonlethal opening, letting his opponent stab him in the arm.

  His opponent, who still hadn't quite understood the gravity of these fights despite having won six already himself, took the bait, believing any hit was a small victory.

  And he got his spear stuck.

  Oh, did it hurt when he tried to pull it back out. The pain nearly made Suamley go unconscious, the flailman feeling his stomach churn violently.

  Fortunately, adrenaline cut through the pain. Adrenaline mixed with plain determination.

  The spearman realized his error just a bit too late. Somehow, even though he had less than a fraction of a second between attacking and getting counter-attacked, he did manage to realize what he had done, so that itself was impressive, but unfortunately, it was also too little and too late.

  That flail smashed into the side of his head.

  Actually, he might have survived the attack, albeit with serious or critical injuries and a permanently mangled face, but the beginner effect doesn't take chances. Anything approaching a fatal wound is sufficient for it to act.

  The spear, held more by its victim's own body than its wielder, was left behind, requiring a moment of first aid as they helped the shaky victor toward the portal, removing it before sending him through so his own injuries could be fixed up.

  But there was a bit of a complication.

  【Suamley has gained the Skill: Grit I.】

  The Skill-less tournament suddenly had gained a Skilled competitor.