The Pulled-Stroke Trope

As my match drew near, I made my excuses about needing the restroom and slipped away, heading toward the participants' waiting room. It looked like my sister had won her first round without any trouble. Who knows, she might actually make it pretty far this year.

While I was walking down the hallway mulling that over, I passed a GREY-ROBED PERSON coming from the other direction.

At that exact moment, I stopped.

A split-second later, the other person stopped too.

We both turned around at the same time.

Through a gap in that tattered grey robe, a pair of sharp blue eyes were staring me down.

"You smell like an elf," a husky female voice said.

Her faded robe was frayed and coming apart at the seams. I didn't say anything, opting instead to wait for her to keep talking.

"Do you know any elves?"

Those blue eyes peered into mine, searching for something.

"I’ve got a few elf friends," I replied. There wasn't really any reason to hide it, so I just gave her the truth.

"I am looking for an elf."

"Is that so?"

"She was a cute child."

"Huh."

"Do you have any idea who she might be?"

"Even if you ask me that..."

"She should look very much like me."

"Right."

"She is the memento of my younger sister."

"I see."

"Do you know an elf who looks like me?"

"Uh, look..."

"Any ideas?"

"I can't exactly see your face through that robe."

"Ah. Good point."

She pulled back her hood, exposing her face to the world.

I didn't react. Or rather, I made a very conscious effort to show absolutely zero emotion.

Her face looked a hell of a lot like Alpha’s.

"Sorry, doesn't ring a bell."

"Truly?"

"Yeah."

I should probably double-check with Alpha the next time I see her. They weren't quite spitting images, but they were similar enough that if someone told me they were relatives, I’d totally believe it.

"I see."

She shrugged her shoulders regretfully, then drew her sword in one fluid, natural motion.

There was no bloodlust, no preliminary movement—just a single, lethal strike.

I caught it in the corner of my vision and just... let it happen. I know how this goes. This is that classic trope where the master tests the protagonist with a pulled stroke, right?

Sure enough, her blade stopped right against my neck.

It was just touching me. She hadn't even nicked a single layer of skin.

And, with exquisite timing...

"Whoa!?"

I flopped onto my butt, pretending my legs had suddenly turned to jelly.

Yeah, I’d give that performance a passing grade.

"Hm?"

She tilted her head and sheathed her sword.

"I made a mistake. My apologies."

She gave me a polite little bow.

"I thought you were stronger. What is your name?"

She held out a hand to me.

"I-I'm Cid Kagenou..." I stammered, my voice trembling as I took her hand and let her pull me up.

"I am Beatrix."

Beatrix kept a firm grip on my hand, not letting go.

"Uh... is something wrong?"

"Good hands. You will become strong."

She offered me a beautiful smile. That smile, too, looked just like Alpha’s.

"Sorry for startling you."

With one last apology, Beatrix turned her back and walked away.

I watched her retreating figure for a moment.

"...Actually, she's pretty damn strong," I muttered to myself before turning on my heel.

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Iris sat in the SPECIAL SEAT, waiting for the next match to begin. From this vantage point, she had a panoramic view of the entire arena, and she could descend directly to the field via a private staircase if necessary.

Two SPELLSWORDS had already been called out to the arena.

One was Annerose, the LIGHT BLUE-HAIRED FEMALE SWORDSMAN whom Iris had been keeping a close eye on.

The other was a BLACK-HAIRED SWORDSMAN she was seeing for the first time: JIMINA SEINEN.

Iris narrowed her eyes, observing the two competitors.

"It’s just about to start, I see."

A man sat down in the chair next to her.

That was Cid’s seat.

"That seat is—"

"Is there a problem?"

Iris cut herself off the moment she saw the man's face. I'm sorry, Cid, she apologized silently.

"Lord Doem..."

"Princess Iris, I trust you are in good spirits."

Doem smiled elegantly, but his eyes remained cold and vacant.

"Being able to watch the matches alongside Princess Iris is like a dream come true."

"You jest, Lord Doem. Do you not already have a fiancée?"

"Unfortunately, she ran away from me. But worry not, it was merely a lover's spat."

Doem laughed airily. He was quite handsome for a man in his late twenties, but Iris had never been able to stomach his smile.

"Is the KING OF ORIANA still feeling unwell?"

"Regrettably, he will be absent again today. However, he did say he would certainly attend tomorrow."

Doem answered her question with practiced ease.

"The KING OF MIDGAR is also scheduled to attend starting tomorrow."

"My, what a coincidence."

Iris tried to read something in Doem's eyes, but those unlaughing orbs revealed nothing.

"So, is that the rumored Annerose?" Doem asked, looking down at the arena.

"Yes."

"The woman with the most momentum in the world right now. I heard she’s on a training journey after leaving VEGALTA, but I would dearly love to invite her to our country."

"Indeed. A swordsman of her caliber would be a welcome addition to the MIDGAR KINGDOM as well."

"Haha. Surely the MIDGAR KINGDOM already has plenty of excellent SPELLSWORDS. Compared to you, our country is..."

"That is exactly why our alliance exists."

"True, but it is quite painful to be so entirely dependent on your kingdom."

"I suppose so..."

How exhausting, Iris thought, suppressing a sigh. Talking to him felt like talking to a doll.

"And what of her opponent, JIMINA?"

"This is the first time I've seen him play. I haven't heard many good things, and he doesn't exactly look strong."

"Then I suppose Annerose's victory is a foregone conclusion."

"No... there is something eerie about him," Iris said, her tone clouded with uncertainty.

"Eerie?"

"Yes. He certainly doesn't look strong. And yet, he possesses a quality that no weakling could ever have."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Absolute confidence. To my eyes... he looks as though he is already certain of his victory."

"Could it not just be conceit?"

"Perhaps. But there is no hesitation in his eyes. He sees an unwavering path to victory... or at least, he thinks he does."

"I see. At least he sees it, then? Tell me, Princess Iris, can you see it?"

"No. Can you, Lord Doem?"

"Me? I know absolutely nothing about the way of the sword."

"Is that so?"

Iris stole a quick glance at Doem's hands. They were the hands of a trained man, despite his claims of ignorance.

"I suppose I can't fool Princess Iris after all. In the ORIANA KINGDOM, the sword is often looked down upon, so please forgive my modesty. To be perfectly honest, I can hold my own well enough."

"Well enough, you say?"

"Yes. Well enough."

Doem wore a smile that never reached his eyes.

"Now then, shall we see just how much that 'absolute confidence' is worth?"

He looked down at the arena.

"Annerose versus JIMINA SEINEN!!"

The names of the two combatants echoed through the stadium.

"Match start!!"

The battle began.