Hello everyone! I want to apologize that there was no chapter on Thursday and that even today's chapter is quite short! I'm sick and I'm also feeling quite lonely in everyone's life.
This affected my mental state and reduced the quality of writing!
-----
I growl, frustrated, my hand clenched tightly around the hilt of my weapon. That guy didn't just block my attack—he humiliated me, plain and simple. Not a step back, not a raised eyebrow, just a clean, cold, almost lazy parry.
Like I was a kid playing war with a wooden stick in a sandbox.
…Well, technically, I am a kid playing with a sword in an arena. A reincarnated girl, still a minor, never trained in swordsmanship, discovering the rules of combat live in front of a cheering crowd. Bravo, girl. What an impressive resume.
And him… he's staring at me. Not with anger, not even with hatred. Just that dismissive neutrality that makes you want to stab someone in the throat just to get a reaction.
That's when it hits me—hard—like a returning nightmare I thought I'd buried. That feeling in my gut. That face. That look. I've seen him before?
No! I didn't see him. I fought him.
And immediately, it all rushes back at once.
The screaming, the shouted orders, the blood, the dismembered bodies under my claws—through Senpai. It was him. The leader. The one yelling in the tunnel while I was turning his team into human lasagna.
The bastard's alive.
And he just blocked me like I was a buzzing mosquito.
"You're starting to remember, aren't you?" he sneers, lowering his guard slightly, like inviting me to settle the score.
But I don't move. I stare. I analyze. I'm not stupid. Not here. Not now. I'm not about to blow my cover over a bloody grudge match.
"Shame you didn't die in those tunnels. At least you'd have gone out clean."
I grit my teeth. Every word from his mouth lights up a primitive urge to rip out his vocal cords.
And then, like a gong breaking the tension, the announcer's voice booms across the arena:
"ONLY FIVE PARTICIPANTS REMAIN!"
What? Already? My eyes scan the field: blood-soaked ground, some bodies still warm, others crawling despite their wounds. The crowd's going wild.
Screams, cheers, bets shouted in rhythm. And over there, in the stands, I spot Linie jumping up and down, yelling something I can't make out. She's happy. So am I. Well… until that happens.
Silence—but not quite. People are whispering to each other.
"Do you think it's the famous one…?"
"No way, the front must've gotten worse for a noble of his rank to come this close!"
All eyes turn toward a figure rising slowly in the gilded balcony reserved for the elite. A black cape, trimmed in silver thread, flutters in the arena's artificial breeze. A refined, elegant man walks down the steps with the slowness of a judge about to pronounce divine judgment.
"Oh great, who's this drama queen now…"
[ Isn't that a bit hypocritical coming from you? ]
"Shut up, Senpai."
I don't know what's happening, and I don't understand everything, but this must be the capital noble they talked about!
The man reaches the center of the balcony and raises a gloved hand. Instantly, the silence turns reverent.
"Dear spectators… this tournament has, as always, been a delightful distraction. But one thing is still missing."
A snap of the fingers.
A deep, animalistic rumble shakes the tiles beneath my feet. Behind a massive gate, a raspy breath—almost too deep to be natural—echoes forth. A foul stench creeps into the air, acidic and unmistakable.
I know that smell.
No way…
"Here is a true Trial of the Blade, my friends. Five survivors? Very well. But will they still stand after facing a direct specimen from the Elroe Labyrinth?"
The crowd erupts. The gates open slowly with a metallic screech. And I fix my gaze on the shadow emerging from the dark… praying it's not what I think it is.
Because if it is…
We're screwed.
The ground trembles beneath us. Slowly. Like a beast waking up. And then it appears.
One.
A single Elroe Mowajitz.
It steps out of the iron gate like a king entering stage. Its dark fur is laced with bone plates, its eyes glow with a sick light, and its antlers… hell, they already look like they're searching for throats to skewer. Silence weighs heavy, the five survivors—myself included—watch without moving.
It's massive. Bigger than the one I killed last time. And that was in a tunnel, not in the middle of a damn coliseum.
One of the guys—a bigmouth with a tattoo on his cheek—steps forward.
"Heh, not even scared of your mutant cow, dude!"
He charges. Sword raised. Straight at the beast.
I barely raise an eyebrow.
[ This individual seems to confuse bravery with a lack of survival instinct. ]
The Mowajitz lowers its head. Clack.
The blade hits the bone of its forehead, doesn't pierce.
And then… everything shifts.
A shrill cry—not an animal one. A call? A signal? No clue. But the ground cracks slightly, the gate trembles again… and then I see them.
One, two… three… no, five more Mowajitz, each slightly different—one with broken horns, another with two tails, a third with clawed feet instead of hooves.
I step back, lips tight.
"This is a goddamn nest!"
[ New survival calculation advised. Environment unstable. Risk of massacre: high. ]
The crowd screams, the first monster stomps the ground, and the noble—still theatrical as ever—raises a hand to demand silence.
"Calm yourselves, good people! These are not mere wild beasts…"
He descends another step, slowly, his smile stretched like someone who just won a chess match none of us knew we were playing.
"These specimens were found in an old elven base. Abandoned, yes… but not empty."
Murmurs. Shivers. Even the soldiers are reacting.
"We believe these creatures are the result of crossbreeding or enhancements… perhaps an attempt to make them stronger, more vicious. Perhaps a weapon in the making. Who knows?"
I frown. A weapon? Seriously? These mutant deer freaks? They want to start a war of… Bambi?
"And what better way to test their value… than by pitting them against five survivors chosen through blood and suffering?"
At that moment, a harsh howl—not animal—rings out, and another Mowajitz bursts through the gate, followed by a third, then a fourth.
I sigh.
"Of course… it was never just one."
[ Clarification: Number of threats identified — 6. Average level: higher than the specimen previously fought. Unstable magical energy detected in their nervous systems. ]
I look at the noble. He's still smiling. Pleased with his little show. But if I survive this—and I damn well plan to—it won't be just the monsters who bleed.
Then, one of the prisoners—the one who tried to capture me in the labyrinth—steps toward me without hostility. For once.
"You. The oni. We're dead if we stay separated."
I glance sideways at him. Normally, I'd tell him to fuck off. But… he's not wrong.
The other prisoner steps up too. He eyes the advancing monsters, then looks at us.
"Not saying we're friends. But you know fire. I know stone. He hits hard. That's three. And there are six. You do the math."
I narrow my eyes. Then I laugh—a dry, nervous laugh.
"Okay, boys. Deal. We survive this, we don't kill each other—for now. But if either of you betrays me, I swear I'll impale you with your own spine."
They nod. That'll do for now.
The first Mowajitz charges.
The pact is sealed in mud, sweat… and fear.