The Mysterious Young Swordsman, Jimina

Gamma wiped her tears and immediately began barking orders at her subordinates, having them bring her a specific item.

"What’s that?" I asked, eyeing the object in her hands.

"It’s a new type of slime I’ve been refining, based on the Shadow Wisdom," Gamma explained. "Once you channel Magic Power through it, the texture becomes indistinguishable from real human skin."

"Huh. Interesting."

Gamma held the flesh-colored mass out to me.

"Do I just stick it on my face?"

"Yes, My Lord."

I pressed the slime against my skin, spreading it into a thin layer. I caught my reflection in a nearby mirror. "It just feels like I’ve got wet clay slapped on my face."

"From here, it is Nu’s turn to work," Gamma said.

"By your leave." Nu stepped forward, brandishing a thin knife that looked more like a sculptor’s chisel.

"I shall now carve the slime," she said.

"Got it."

"What sort of face would you prefer, My Lord?"

"Let’s see... give me something that looks weak."

"Weak, you say...?" Nu paused, considering the request.

"How about this man?" Gamma chimed in, opening a file and showing Nu a set of records. "Jimina Seinen. An Altena Empire noble, twenty-two years old. He was disowned five years ago for being lazy and having zero talent as a Spellsword. Since then, he’s drifted from place to place working as a mercenary and a guard. His final job was escorting a carriage filled with victims of Possession."

The poor guy hadn't even been a criminal; he was just lazy and terminally unlucky. He’d probably died without ever knowing what was actually in that carriage.

"The bone structure is a close enough match," Nu noted. "This will work. Do we have his papers?"

"Of course," Gamma replied. "Using a real identity is far safer than a forgery. My Lord, does this suit you?"

"Yeah. Let’s go with Jimina-kun."

"Then I shall begin."

Nu set to work with her knife, delicately shaving away the slime. As Shadow Garden’s resident expert in special effects makeup, her hands moved with terrifying precision. In the blink of an eye, the slime was sculpted into the visage of an incredibly unremarkable young man.

"Oh, now this is something..." I breathed, staring at the mirror in admiration.

"How is it?"

"It’s great. I look incredibly weak."

It wasn't that the face was particularly ugly—it was just... plain. He had these unhealthy dark circles under his eyes and a patch of scruffy stubble that screamed 'unreliable.' The corners of his mouth drooped, and his complexion was as dull as dishwater.

Gamma looked positively radiant seeing me so satisfied.

"The shape will lock in once you flow Magic Power through it," she explained. "After that, you can take it on and off whenever you like."

"Ho-ho."

"One drawback is that it’s less elastic than your usual Slime Bodysuit, and it offers almost no defensive protection."

"I see. It's a face-only model. Not really suited for combat gear, then."

"Precisely. Furthermore..."

I stood up once I’d finished listening to Nu’s technical brief.

"I should probably stoop my shoulders a bit to really sell the look, right?" I said, hunching my back and taking a few experimental steps.

"Wonderful performance!" Gamma cheered, clapping her hands.

The way a person stands and walks tells you everything you need to know about how they use their body. Most power is transmitted up from the legs, after all. Someone who truly knows how to fight naturally maintains a posture that allows them to move that power through their body with maximum efficiency. It's not a foolproof way to gauge someone's total strength, but it’s a damn good indicator.

I’d taught Gamma that lesson once, and she’d clearly taken it to heart. She understood the theory perfectly. The problem was that she couldn't actually do it. Gamma’s posture was always elegant and beautiful, but that was where it ended. She was the textbook definition of a disconnect between form and function.

"I'll slant my shoulders like this... yeah, that feels right. I don't want to mess with my pelvic alignment, though. I'd hate to pick up a weird habit for real."

Gamma watched me practice my 'loser walk' with a fond, almost maternal smile, then turned to her subordinates.

"I have prepared the outfit and a suitably cheap sword."

"You think of everything, Gamma."

She looked like she was about to ascend to heaven just from that one compliment.

"Perfect. Let’s do this. I’m off to register for the Bushin Festival."

I decided to play with my vocal cords a bit, pitching my voice into a low, husky rasp.

"Here are your identification papers," Gamma said, bowing deeply as I headed for the exit. "Please, watch your step."

"Thanks. Oh, and one more thing." I stopped at the door and looked back. "That hairstyle really suits you."

Gamma’s brain seemingly short-circuited.

The door clicked shut behind me. A split second later, I heard a muffled "Pegya!" followed by the distinct sound of a high heel snapping.

"Gamma-sama!?" I heard Nu cry out from inside.

I didn't need to see through the door to know Gamma was currently face-planted on the floor with a nosebleed, looking like the happiest person in the world.

JIMINA

The registration for the Bushin Festival was being handled at the arena’s reception desk. I took my place at the back of a long line of Spellswords and began scouting the competition.

The warrior in front of me was tall and clearly hit the gym, making him look intimidating at first glance, but his center of gravity was all over the place.

Hmm. It’s close, but I’m pretty sure I still look marginally more pathetic than him.

Another warrior lined up behind me. He had a stable center of gravity, sure, but he also had a massive beer gut. He wasn't using technique to stay balanced; he was just using his own mass. Too many nights at the tavern, clearly.

Still, he’s got a fierce-looking face. I definitely look weaker.

I continued scanning the crowd, holding a private "Who Looks the Most Pathetic" tournament in my head. My goal was to nail the classic trope of: "Hey, look at that loser... he's a goner" followed by "Who... who IS that guy!?" To pull that off, I had to ensure I looked like the absolute bottom of the barrel.

That guy’s a scrub. That guy over there is a loser. The one by the pillar is a total amateur. The guy in the cape is a literal water flea... Dammit, is there anyone here who isn't trash?

But it was fine. I was Jimina Seinen now. After a rigorous internal review, I concluded that I was, without a doubt, the weakest-looking person in the building.

I nodded to myself, satisfied with my disguise, when a voice cut through my thoughts.

"Excuse me, but you should really stop this."

"Huh?"

"You're going to get yourself killed."

I turned around to find a young woman—a Spellsword—staring at me. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be...? Is this actually happening?

"And you are...?"

"I am Annerose. You shouldn't register for this with such a half-hearted attitude."

Annerose glared up at me with dead-serious eyes. Internally, I was doing a massive fist pump.

Yes! This is it! The 'Talented Warrior Warns the Weak-Looking Protagonist to Quit' event! It's a classic!