"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Amidst the thunderous roar of the crowd, Rei stepped onto the arena stage.
He had idled away his time touring the venue, but sightseeing alone had quickly lost its appeal. Eventually, he had returned to the waiting room, where he sat in silence until his name was called.
Fortunately, it seemed the other contestants found the waiting room equally tedious. Most had stepped out, and the few who had been glaring at him with murderous intent were nowhere to be seen. For Rei, this was a stroke of luck, as it meant no annoying incidents would delay his debut.
As he waited, the matches progressed until a tournament official finally approached to inform him that his turn had come.
Rei had wondered why the schedule was moving faster than he’d anticipated, but according to the official, it wasn't unusual.
This was the Bestia Empire's premier fighting tournament, a nationwide event held only once a year. The participants were fired up, driving a naturally rapid pace. Furthermore, the legacy of the ancient magic civilization imbued the arena with a unique field: as long as a fighter still drew breath, any injury would vanish the moment they stepped off the stage. This safety net allowed the combatants to fight with reckless, all-out abandon.
And so, Rei now stood upon the grand stage.
"Here he comes! The eye of the typhoon for this tournament! Crimson makes his debut! We were thrilled by the performances of the wind-manipulating magic sworduser Grass and the devastating greatsword user Bison, but this match is guaranteed to be even more explosive! Don’t look away for even a second!"
Driven by the commentator’s enthusiastic hype, the crowd's energy reached a fever pitch.
Listening to the noise, Rei gripped the Death Scythe he had retrieved from his Misty Ring and turned his gaze toward his opponent. As if sensing his focus, the announcer began the introduction right on cue.
"Standing across from Crimson is a fearless warrior! Give it up for Anacer the Magnificent Dual-wielder! Using the scimitars in both hands, this man turned the qualifying rounds into a bloodbath with his dance-like, captivating style! One look at his skin tells you he’s from a race rarely seen in these parts—a true martial artist who has traveled across lands to hone his craft! We can't wait to see what kind of fight he puts up against the legendary Crimson!"
True to the announcer's words, the man seemed to overflow with confidence. Though he looked to be in his thirties, Anacer showed no hint of intimidation while facing Rei. He simply settled into a ready stance with his twin blades.
The weapons were not the standard straight swords Rei had seen throughout this world; they were curved blades—commonly known as shamshirs or scimitars.
Anacer’s attire was equally distinctive. He wore a turban around his head and had eschewed armor entirely, likely prioritizing speed. While his clothing seemed durable, it was clearly designed to provide maximum freedom of movement.
His features were also quite different from anyone Rei had encountered so far. While Rei had seen many people in this world with hair and eye colors that didn't exist in Japan, the man before him offered a surprise of a different sort. His skin was a deep bronze—lighter than a dark elf’s—and his facial features were sharply defined and deep-set.
To Rei’s eyes, he looked remarkably like someone of Middle Eastern descent from his original world.
As it turned out, Anacer was indeed a member of a unique tribe known as the People of the Desert. However, his homeland was not anywhere near the Bestia Empire. He hailed from a nation so distant that a traveler would have to journey for years to reach it.
"Crimson, is it?" Anacer shouted, readying his scimitars. "I have heard of your strength. Show me... show me that power!"
Rei responded by lowering his center of gravity and readying the Death Scythe.
The referee observed the two combatants, judged that preparations were complete, and let out a booming cry.
"Begin!"
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
At the signal, a fresh wave of cheers washed over the arena.
Propelled by the crowd’s energy, Anacer kicked off the stage, instantly closing the gap.
"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
He swung his twin scimitars with a fierce roar.
The blades moved as if they possessed a will of their own, weaving a complex pattern of strikes that could only be described as a sword dance. It was a relentless storm of steel.
Yet, the air was not filled with the sound of tearing flesh or Rei’s cries of pain. Instead, it rang with the sharp, rhythmic cadence of clashing metal.
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clank!
Though Anacer attacked with two blades, Rei met every strike with only his Death Scythe, utilizing both the blade and the butt end to deflect the barrage.
"Kooooooooooooooh!"
Anacer’s breathing shifted. Accompanied by a sharp, focused huff, the speed of his scimitars surged even higher.
"I won't let you have your way forever!"
Rei had been content to observe the dual-wielding style from a defensive posture, but as Anacer increased his intensity, Rei shifted his approach. He remained focused on defense, but he began stepping into the attacks, meeting the scimitars with aggressive precision.
(If they can clash with the Death Scythe like this, those scimitars must be magic items as well,) Rei noted inwardly, feeling the weight of each impact travel up his arms.
In contrast to Rei’s calm analysis, Anacer’s expression grew grimmer with every exchange.
His style was built on fluid, circular motions—a constant, flowing dance of steel that never paused. Yet, for all his speed, he could not land a single hit. He felt as if he were trying to cut through a mountain. Worse, his wrists were beginning to ache.
The Death Scythe weighed over a hundred kilograms. Because Rei swung that massive weight as if it were a feather, the weapon was always exactly where it needed to be to intercept Anacer's blades. Striking such a heavy object repeatedly was naturally taking a toll on the dual-wielder’s hands.
"What troublesome sturdiness!" Anacer spat, lashing out with a simultaneous cross-slash.
Rei caught the timed strike easily. Realizing he would get nowhere at this rate, Anacer leaped backward, creating distance.
"You certainly live up to the name Crimson. I've launched everything I have, and I haven't even grazed you. I used to be quite confident in my speed and volume of attacks."
"You should be. You’re definitely among the highest-tier fighters I’ve faced in terms of raw offense."
They exchanged words while searching for the next opening. Anacer subtly shifted his sword tips, and Rei adjusted the height of his scythe in response.
"Among the highest, eh? It’s a bit disappointing to not be the best."
"I’ve fought a lot of different people, after all."
As they spoke, the tension between them wound tight—and in the next instant, they both lunged forward again.
Anacer’s blades were faster and sharper than before, tracing even more complex arcs to carve into Rei’s frame.
Rei continued to parry them.
He didn't simply block, repel, or dodge. He read the flow of the sword tips and parried every single strike—both scimitars at once. Previously, he would have mixed various defensive maneuvers to handle such an onslaught. To an outsider, that would look like he was using a broad repertoire of skills.
But now, he was using only one: the parry.
To repeatedly parry—perhaps the most technically demanding defensive technique—using only the Death Scythe required a level of finesse that far exceeded what was visible to the crowd. By limiting himself to a single technique, he was effectively giving his opponent a chance to adapt, yet Rei was controlling the flow so perfectly that Anacer couldn't find an opening.
This was a deliberate choice. Instead of taking the most efficient path to victory, Rei was intentionally handicapping himself, using the match as a high-stakes practice session to sharpen his technical skill.
"Oooooooooh! Incredible, Anacer! He’s launching a one-sided assault on Crimson! Attack after attack! Against that dance of blades, Crimson can do nothing but defend!"
The commentator’s voice boomed, and the crowd roared in approval of Anacer’s flashy performance. Even the nobles in the VIP suites were talking.
"Hmph. They talk of Crimson this and Crimson that, but rumors are just rumors. It seems this is the extent of his ability."
"It certainly looks like he’s being pushed back. Perhaps he excels at the wide-scale magic he showed at the Seremuse Plain but lacks the talent for individual matches?"
"That seems likely. Even if he can only use that troublesome magic, he’s still a threat... but now that we’ve seen his weakness, His Majesty the Emperor's decision to allow his entry has proven wise."
Far from those arrogant voices, a different group of nobles watched with grim expressions.
"This is why those who don't understand battle are so tiresome... It might look like Crimson is cornered, but..."
"Yes. In reality, it is Anacer who is being driven to the brink. One only needs to look at his face to see that."
Indeed, Anacer’s expression was that of a man being hunted.
From the outside, he was the aggressor, but Rei held every advantage. Rei had completely abandoned his reliance on raw physical ability, meeting every strike with pure technique.
Furthermore, he wasn't just deflecting the blades. Just before the weapons made contact, Rei would subtly push the Death Scythe forward, increasing the jarring shock to Anacer’s wrists. While one such impact was minor, the cumulative damage from hundreds of clashes in a matter of seconds was mounting at an exponential rate.
Because he was maintaining such a high-intensity barrage, Anacer was effectively holding his breath—a prolonged burst of anaerobic movement. No human could sustain such effort indefinitely.
The limit was reached.
His face turned a deep crimson from the lack of oxygen, and his movements slowed for the briefest of moments. Rei did not miss it.
The Death Scythe swung.
Boom!
Anacer caught the incoming blow by crossing his scimitars, but the sheer force of the impact sent him hurtling like a stone toward the edge of the stage. Despite his exhaustion, he managed to twist his body in mid-air and land on his feet—a testament to his skill.
He had endured. But that momentary relief was his undoing. He failed to notice that Rei had vanished from his field of vision.
"What!?"
As Anacer tried to regain his stance, he gasped to find the small, robed figure standing directly in front of him.
When had he moved?
In that split second of paralyzed shock, the butt end of the Death Scythe thrust into Anacer’s solar plexus. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the stage, unconscious.
"The match is over! The winner is Rei!"