The clenched fist held in front of the chest suddenly vanished, then seemed to grow until it filled Walm’s entire field of vision. Relying on his dynamic vision, Walm folded his upper body and shifted the line of his head. The air pushed aside by the missed strike brushed his hair like a faint breeze.

“Your hands are fast!!

The strike had been thrown with the waist relaxed and the arm loose, prioritizing speed above all else. Normally it would be the sort of attack used for probing, but this was nothing so gentle. If it landed on the face, it would snap a head back and send spit flying. And this elaborate greeting was not yet over.

“I hate being teased and teasing others too!!!”

As the left hand snapped back, a heavy blow came rushing in to replace it. If he took that strike head-on, his body might well be launched into the air. Sliding his feet backward across the ground, Walm prioritized evasion. Meanwhile, the chief instructor who had just punched empty air showed no sign of losing her smile. Rather, she closed the distance immediately, letting their bodies collide.

At a glance it looked like a simple body check, but in truth it was an advanced technique meant to break his balance. Several of Walm’s options, and the distance between them, were instantly crushed.

“How passionate of you.”

Because their bodies were touching, Walm could feel just how abnormal her physique was. But he had neither the bravery nor the stupidity to try pushing against something like a great tree rooted in the earth. Before his balance could be completely broken, he pulled his shoulder back and slid his foot to the side. As long as she failed to capture the exact center of his balance, he could still slip away.

As Walm slipped to the side, Deborah attempted to pivot on one leg. Despite her enormous build, her movement was astonishingly light, almost like a dancer in the midst of a wild performance. Before she could fully turn, Walm drove his fist into her side, but the instant his knuckles connected, his face twisted.

It wasn’t the familiar feeling of striking a leather sack stuffed with sand. Instead, a shock and dull pain ran through his hand as if he had punched bare marble.

“…The hell? That’s supposed to be a human’s ribs?”

“Oh? You got me there.”

Walm tried to follow up, but a half-boot shot toward him along a trajectory that skimmed the ground. It was practically a kick disguised as a sweep. When he jumped back, the sweeping line passed through the space where his calf had been moments before. So the goal was to cripple his mobility first. Getting caught by that kind of leg sweep would be no joke.

“Huh…”

Walm tapped a rhythm with his feet, letting his upper body sway in quick, subtle motions. As the distance widened, Deborah threw another punch. The strike bent through the elbow and wrist, making it difficult to read where it originated. Walm knocked it aside with a half-open palm and let the second blow slide past his elbow.

Slipping inside her guard, he struck her side again. A punch to the liver should normally make the body seize up but instead, Deborah’s fury only grew. At the edge of his vision, something rose sharply upward. A knee strike aimed at his chest. If it landed, it could easily shatter his ribs. Walm leaned his upper body back and avoided it, but the flickering shadow told him that even this had been a feint.

The low attack had been meant to draw his eyes downward. The real blow was a crushing right. Despite her appearance, she was remarkably skilled at deceit. Walm tracked the incoming strike with his eyes and dodged at the last possible moment. As the wide swing created an opening, he moved to counterattack immediately, but suddenly his vision wavered, and a dull pain exploded across his cheek. Blood seeped into his mouth from a cut inside. He hadn’t fully evaded it.

As he responded to the downward strike, another fist had shot toward his torso. Walm caught it with both hands and softened the impact, but suddenly felt weightless. He had literally been lifted off the ground. Walm crashed down, scattering dust as he landed. His palms tingled as though electricity ran through them.

“Tch.”

“Well now, having sharp eyes can be troublesome.”

As if revealing a trick, Deborah opened and closed a fist with only the fingertips curled inward like a cat’s paw. He had rushed his next move and paid the price. Just as he dodged at the last moment, she had loosened her fist and tapped him with it. Whether it was a trap or pure reflex, it was impressive skill either way. Spitting out the blood pooled in his mouth, Walm fixed his gaze on the chief instructor.

“I’ve always wanted to take those eyes of yours head-on!”

“Is that so.”

Taking the instructor’s wish at face value, Walm charged straight in. Left. Right. Left. They traded blows in rapid succession, blocking with shoulders and elbows. Her abdominal muscles were absurdly tough, but after the fourth and fifth punch sank in, a breath finally escaped her lips.

Even so, neither of them slowed. If anything, the exchange of blows only grew fiercer. When she unleashed a sweeping backhand blow, Walm answered with a kick to the side of her calf. As she reset her stance, the strongest downward strike of the day came crashing in. The pressure of the fist was so overwhelming it felt as though it descended from directly overhead.

Instead of evading, Walm stepped in. Their fists crossed, sliding along one another like snakes crawling across branches. A dull impact echoed across the training ground.

This time, it was Walm’s fist that had connected. The sensation was familiar now. His punch struck her face, and it was more than enough to break Deborah’s nose. Fresh blood burst forth and splattered onto the ground.

“Nice makeup. It suits you.”

The chief instructor merely snorted, straightening her crooked nose as if wiping it clean. She flicked a clump of blood into the air. She didn’t falter, not even a little. And then she began her reply to his flirtatious remark.

“You’re really tempting me now in front of my husband!”

Like a maiden in the throes of romance, Deborah’s cheeks flushed red as she roared and charged.

◆

After arriving at the Selta Peninsula, Friug had been overwhelmed with work. In addition to the usual duties of his company, he now had to handle communications and coordination with the Mayard army as well. Only recently he had finished a series of discussions regarding joint training exercises and troop deployments in case of emergencies.

Furthermore, since Selta was the land of an allied nation, every action required careful consideration. It was easy to claim equality with words, but in reality every action demanded prior notification and careful coordination. If the two nations had shared a long history of cooperation, there might have been established procedures to rely on, but the relationship between the two countries had only just begun. Tomorrow’s schedule and the soldiers’ training plans swirled constantly through Friug’s mind. There was no shortage of tasks waiting for him.

Lost in thought while walking, Friug was suddenly forced out of his contemplation by a loud uproar of voices.

“Training under instructor Deborah? But it sounds different…”

Turning frail civilians into proper soldiers required stripping away their stamina and spirit, then rebuilding their thinking from scratch. The instructor was famous for such harsh methods, and her training was always accompanied by a storm of insults and shouting but today felt different.

Rather than screams or angry shouts, the noise sounded closer to cheers. Perhaps it could offer some insight. Drawn by curiosity, Friug made his way toward the training grounds.

The cheers only grew louder as he approached. A large crowd had gathered at the center. It wasn’t just the training corps, but infantry, sailors, cavalry and soldiers from every branch and affiliation were packed together, reacting with excitement and disappointment alike.

“Guardian Chief Walm?!”

Peering through a gap in the crowd, Friug froze. Two imperial knights were exchanging blows with a ferocity that bordered on a fight to the death. One of them was instructor Deborah, who had displayed her martial prowess at Dandurg Castle.

Spotting a familiar face among those organizing the crowd, Friug immediately questioned him.

“Hey. What’s all this commotion about?”

“C-Company commander, sir! Guardian Chief Walm and instructor Deborah are fighting bare-handed!”

“I can see that. I’m asking you why.”

At the soldier’s feet were piles of alcohol and tobacco stacked like small hills. Clearly aware that it looked suspicious, the soldier answered nervously.

“W-Well, at first they were betting their dinner for tonight… but then alcohol and other luxuries started piling in as wagers…”

The soldier’s voice grew smaller and smaller as he spoke. Moiz, Deborah’s assistant instructor, busily collected the items while distributing wooden tokens in exchange as betting markers. Yogim was even keeping a ledger of the participants. It was almost certain the father and child were running the entire gambling operation.

This was exactly why adventurers were troublesome. They looked like people who’d had their share of hardship, yet they always found ways to profit. Friug felt a headache coming on as he alternated his gaze between the pile of luxury goods and the anxious subordinate watching his expression.

“So… what are the odds?”

“Huh? Ah… four for the Guardian Chief, six for the instructor. No one can match instructor Deborah in hand-to-hand combat, so the Mayard and Felius soldiers are all betting on—”

Friug snorted after hearing the report.

“Four for the Guardian Chief? Are you all blind? That’s the Guardian Chief we’re talking about. Don’t you remember Dandurg? Very well then, I’ll bet a barrel of alcohol on the Guardian Chief.”

The company commander’s declaration immediately stirred excitement among the Highserk soldiers.

“Hey! The Highserk company commander just bet a barrel!”

“Then we’re betting too! Don’t you dare lose!”

The hot-blooded sailors of Selta shouted loudly. Provoked by them, the Mayard soldiers piled even more goods into the betting pool. The only real winners were likely the Deborah family running the operation.

“Company commander… is this really okay?”

“Sometimes the men need a way to vent. It’s a bit excessive, but it encourages interaction.”

With the strict company commander himself approving the gambling match, the soldiers threw themselves into the betting frenzy like fish returning to water.

However, Friug kept one thought to himself. Instructor Deborah was undoubtedly a formidable woman who had elevated her bare hands into deadly weapons. Friug respected her strength. In contrast, Guardian Chief Walm had neither his halberd nor magic. On top of that, he couldn’t even use Strong Strike or Demon Fire. It was a tremendous handicap.

But what of it if he fought bare-handed? The Guardian Chief was still the Guardian Chief, and that alone was enough.

As if to confirm Friug’s unspoken conviction, a violent impact rang out, drowning out the cheers. Fresh blood scattered through the air. Their arms had crossed in an exchange, and the Guardian Chief’s fist had smashed directly into Deborah’s face.

Deborah calmly reset the broken nose herself, then used a magic barrier to stop the flowing blood before continuing the fight. A shiver ran down Friug’s spine.

Watching the storm of flying fists, he found himself completely captivated. For the moment, he set aside his role as company commander and simply enjoyed the outcome of the bare-handed duel unfolding before him.

Every once in a while, a day like this wasn’t so bad.

Translator – Lyxxna