"Oraaaah!"
Howard?
Howard kicked up clods of earth as he lunged from his starting position. That roar was as much to psych himself up as it was to intimidate his opponent. Though the traits weren't visible in his appearance, Howard had beast-kin blood in his veins, and he had a nasty habit of howling before a fight.
When he was younger, he would accidentally shout even during stealthy night raids. He’d supposedly struggled to correct it, and these days, that cry rarely broke out. The fact that it had now was proof that Howard was dead serious. I realized instantly that this was one of those rare moments. Judging by his movements, he was even using Qigong to strengthen his body and his weapon.
The sheer ferocity of it must have rattled the crowd. A murmur of unease rippled through the stands at Howard’s aggression... but as for Ryoma, who was taking that pressure head-on?
Look at that face...
In stark contrast to Howard, Ryoma’s expression was as tranquil as a windless pond. His gaze was needle-sharp, his eyes fixed on his opponent with the singular focus of someone looking at a target to be neutralized. There was no intent to intimidate, no malice. He was simply hunting—methodically and without emotion.
He was a completely different person from his usual gentle self. Just being caught between him and Howard made my skin crawl, as if I were being sized up by a cold-blooded predator.
It was a clash between a wild beast and a ruthless hunter.
The intensity was so overwhelming that I didn't even have time to consider stopping the match before the first arrow whistled toward the charging Howard.
"You won't hit me!" Howard barked.
The arrow cut through the air with perfect aim, but this was an open plain. With no cover and his movements in plain sight, the timing of the shot was obvious. Besides, in a formal match, Howard knew exactly who the target was from the start.
If it were a volley from a dozen archers, it would be a different story, but Howard easily avoided a single arrow by simply shifting his path diagonally.
The next moment—
"Tch!"
Howard swept his spear, parrying a second arrow that had been right on the heels of the first.
"He predicted the dodge and aimed the second one at the evasion point... The interval between shots is incredibly short," I muttered.
Even as the words left my mouth, Ryoma continued to loose arrows. He didn't just aim for the broad target of the torso; he deliberately went for the difficult-to-hit legs, the spear itself, and the hands gripping it. Conversely, he avoided the head and the heart—areas where even a blunt tip could be lethal—likely because he understood the bounds of a "match." His strategy seemed to be sap Howard's mobility to prevent him from closing into spear range, or perhaps to shatter his weapon entirely.
The rain of arrows—maintained by a single archer but feeling like the output of three—hadn't landed a clean hit yet, but it was drastically slowing Howard's advance.
The fact that he could maintain that rate of fire and precision alone was staggering, but it meant he was burning through his supply at an alarming rate.
Bows, like magic, are limited by their ammunition. And Howard didn't intend to go down easily. Though he was being forced onto the defensive, I could see the look in his eyes; he was darting across the grass, weathering the onslaught while waiting for his moment to strike.
Still, Ryoma's skill was far beyond "proficient." Level 4? He might even be pushing Level 5. Howard was only holding his own through veteran experience and pure stubbornness. If he let his guard down for a second... if this had been an ambush in the woods, a whole party might have been wiped out.
But in this arena, Ryoma lacked a finishing blow.
As if to challenge that thought, the stalemate broke.
"Got you!" Howard yelled.
Sensing a dip in the rate of fire—perhaps assuming Ryoma was finally running low on arrows—Howard lunged into the boy's inner circle.
"Earth Fence!"
A row of stone rods erupted from the ground at perfect intervals, creating a physical barrier.
He likely intended to use them as a cage to keep Howard back while shooting through the gaps. But against a serious Howard, that wouldn't be enough to—
"Uoraaa!!"
"Break Rock! Storm!"
My eyes widened.
A rapid succession of magic caused a massive cloud of dust to billow into the air.
"Whoa!?"
"Wait, what's happening!?"
"It's reaching the stands!"
The spectators cried out in surprise. I could feel a surge of magic power that justified their panic, though the spells themselves were basic. Realizing Howard was about to smash through the rods, Ryoma had preemptively shattered them and the surrounding ground, using the wind to kick up a screen of grit.
It wasn't an attack. It was a smoke screen—!
Through the dust, a small shadow did the unthinkable. Instead of retreating, Ryoma dove straight into Howard’s reach.
Too close to use his bow, Ryoma thrust forward with an arrow held like a dagger in his hand.
"Dah! Seriously!?" Howard recoiled.
Ryoma was aiming for Howard's eyes and throat.
Even without a metal head, a wooden shaft could be a deadly weapon. It could easily put out an eye, and with enough force, an arrow could pierce leather armor. In Ryoma's hands, they were perfectly viable stabbing weapons.
I had never seen anyone transition to close-quarters combat with an arrow like that, but it wasn't a move of desperation. It was calculated. His hands moved with terrifying fluidity, flipping the arrows between standard and reverse grips to unleash a flurry of thrusts from unpredictable angles.
"You're unbelievable!" Howard roared.
It was more than enough to keep Howard from capitalizing on his proximity. As Howard backpedaled to regain his spear's optimal range, Ryoma disengaged at the exact same moment.
An instant later, an arrow grazed Howard's cheek.
"Ooooh!?"
The arrow Ryoma had just been using as a knife was notched and loosed the second they had distance.
As the wind cleared the dust, the rapid fire resumed. Ryoma stood his ground, a fresh quiver of arrows already on his shoulder and an empty one discarded at his feet.
"He was hiding them in his Item Box," I realized.
By using Space Magic to stockpile ammunition, he had effectively nullified the bow's greatest weakness. The arrows he’d shown us at the start were just the tip of the iceberg. It wasn't against the rules, just incredibly smart.
Howard, who had thought he’d found a window of opportunity, was driven back again. The battle returned to a dead heat.
Where do they go from here? Who makes the next move?
"Teleport."
He's using that now?!
"Where—?! Whoa, watch it!"
"Teleport."
Using Space Magic to vanish and reappear in Howard's blind spots, Ryoma attacked and retreated in the blink of an eye. Every time Howard lost sight of him, his reactions slowed by a fraction of a second. It was a strategy that demanded an immense amount of magic, but everyone knew by now that Ryoma’s reserves were bottomless.
"He's completely dictated the pace of this fight."
Watching this, I finally understood why the Guild Master was so fixated on Ryoma.
The boy was strong. I didn't recognize his style, but it was clear he’d been trained by a master. His movements were deliberate and refined.
His magic was almost as impressive as his martial skills. His casting speed was phenomenal, and his mana capacity was a joke.
On top of that, his survival skills were through the roof. He could build houses with Earth Magic, he was an expert in medicine, and he could procure food with ease. He even had his own business back in the city. His life was as stable as it could possibly be.
Every single one of his attributes was far above the norm. To see that level of mastery in someone so young was nothing short of breathtaking. If he kept this up, he’d be a B-rank adventurer or higher in five years. I’d bet my life on it. As he was now, Ryoma didn't need anyone’s help to survive.
...But that was the problem. He didn't need people.
Because he could do everything himself, he had no reason to rely on others. And even if someone tried to help him, a clumsy hand would only get in his way. His own excellence was isolating him.
I’d suspected as much before, but watching him as a referee made me realize I had to revise my assessment. It was more dangerous than I thought.
An adventurer's life is a dance with death. The higher you climb, the greater the risks, and the fewer "safe" jobs you find. Usually, a rookie stumbles early on, learning their limits and the necessity of comrades. But Ryoma? He wouldn't stumble. If he failed, it would be because of something catastrophic.
The talented ones are the first to fall.
If you’re diligent and skilled, you don't fail low-rank jobs. You breeze through them. You climb the ranks so fast that by the time you finally hit a wall you can't overcome alone, you've already wandered into a place you can't escape from.
Every veteran knows this, even if we don't say it.
"Why him?" "He was so strong." "If only he hadn't gone so far alone, he had such a future..."
I’d heard those whispers in the guild too many times. Meanwhile, the "useless" ones who knew they were weak were often the ones who survived the longest.
That was what the Guild Master was worried about.
I saw it too. Ryoma Takebayashi had immense talent. And he was exactly the type of person who died young. His actual strength was levels above what I’d guessed, meaning he could wander into even more lethal territory than I’d feared.
With no one to hold his hand or pull him back...
"Wogan wants to do something... while there's still time."
About a minute later, a final rain of arrows drove Howard to his knees.