A cacophony of roaring cheers and rowdy voices filled the arena. The spectators were so worked up, each shouting whatever they pleased, that I couldn't make out a single word. Not that it really mattered; the noise itself was the point.
Despite the din, Halfa’s voice cut through the air with startling clarity. "Go, Tort!"
I glanced toward the front of the stands and saw her waving enthusiastically. Spira sat beside her, seemingly cheering for Lowell, while Shiroru sat perched on Halfa’s lap, letting out a lazy, carefree yawn.
Lowell and I stood together in the center of the Circular Arena. In the end, we had accepted Guster-san's proposal and entered the tournament. While there were divisions for solo, tag-team, and four-person teams, we had settled on the tag-team bracket. A full team would have meant leaving Shiroru as the odd one out, and since arena matches were primarily close-quarters brawls in a confined space, the environment didn't suit Halfa's combat style anyway. Thus, it was just the two of us.
The rhythmic clanging of a bell signaled the crowd to settle down. It was time for the pre-match introductions.
"In the East Gate! The champion and former champion of the Glodand Arena have joined forces! Introducing Divine Fist Ragusa and Rendoro the Flame User!"
A man standing on a stage near the center of the stands shouted the announcement. His voice was likely magically amplified, as it boomed sonorous and clear across the entire venue. The crowd erupted in a fresh wave of excitement at the mention of the local stars.
The bell rang again, and the audience, seemingly well-versed in the tournament's flow, quieted down almost instantly.
"In the West Gate! Recommended by Lord Guster of the Reinos Clan—Tort and Lowell! Will they show us the true power of B-Rank Adventurers?"
To my surprise, our introduction was met with a massive cheer as well. At this point, I suspected the crowd was just happy to yell at anything, but I was grateful nonetheless. Fighting in a place where you're being booed is always a hassle.
With the introductions finished, we took our stances. Our opponents followed suit, their faces set with competitive intensity.
"Let the match... begin!"
A particularly loud chime of the bell echoed through the arena, declaring the start of the fight.
The moment the sound faded, one of our opponents—presumably Ragusa—lunged toward us with ferocious speed. Is he aiming for me? I wondered.
We had already discussed how to handle an opening like this. Following our plan perfectly, Lowell stepped in to cover me, intercepting Ragusa's path and striking out with his sword.
It was a well-timed blow, but our opponent was a professional. Ragusa twisted his body at the last possible second, narrowly evading Lowell's strike. The two of them put a bit of distance between each other, locking eyes in a tense standoff.
"Hmph... not bad," Ragusa said, his tone light but his gaze sharp. "But aren't you going to draw that? Don't tell me you're underestimating us."
He was looking at Lowell's sword, which remained firmly in its scabbard. His eyes made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate being mocked.
Of course, we weren't holding back out of arrogance. There was a very practical reason for it.
Oops, I shouldn't just stand here and watch. I have a job to do, too.
"Hardly," Lowell replied, answering Ragusa's challenge while I began my work. "It's for the same reason you don't use a weapon. Like this, I can exert my full strength without hesitation. Isn't that right?"
In this tournament, all weapons and magic were permitted. However, intentionally killing an opponent or harming the spectators resulted in immediate disqualification.
The problem was that using a naked blade made the line between "intentional" and "accidental" very blurry. A sword, after all, is a tool designed specifically for killing. If a swordsman tries to fight while consciously worrying about not killing their opponent, their technique becomes dull and sluggish. By leaving the sword sheathed, Lowell could swing with every ounce of his strength; unless he hit a truly vital spot, the blow wouldn't be fatal. It was the only way for him to fight at one hundred percent.
"Hmph. Fair enough," Ragusa conceded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. "I apologize. You're an adventurer, but you clearly have the soul of a true competitor."
I was glad they had come to an understanding.
The two of them prepared to clash again, but before they could move, Ragusa let out a confused cry.
"...Wait. Where did the other one—the shrimp—go? And what the hell is Rendoro doing?"
The "shrimp" was, quite obviously, me.
I was currently standing directly behind Ragusa. I couldn't see his face, but I imagined it was a mask of pure bewilderment.
"That fight is already over," Lowell said.
"What...?"
Lowell was letting him in on the secret, but Ragusa still looked dazed. Even the crowd was only just beginning to buzz with confusion. It seemed nobody had noticed what had happened.
Rendoro was already unconscious on the floor.
While Lowell and Ragusa had been exchanging words, I had used Shadow Leap to slip behind Rendoro. He had been right in the middle of a long magic incantation, leaving him completely defenseless. Neutralizing him had been trivial.
I had used a spell called Paralyze Touch. It was a form of lightning magic that delivered a sharp electric shock to anyone the caster touched. I'd picked it up recently because I’d realized how inconvenient it was to lack non-lethal options while dealing with thugs back in Orcus. I’d been a little worried about the potency since my lightning magic level was still low, but with the added effect of the Shadow Strike skill, Rendoro had gone down like a light.
And just like that, the match was two-against-one—an overwhelming advantage for us.
Ragusa tried to put up a desperate fight, but the shock of his partner’s sudden defeat made his movements stiff and awkward. He eventually failed to parry one of Lowell's heavy strikes and was knocked cold. Our victory was total.