Now that the results were out, there was no longer any reason to keep my opponent pinned.
So I quietly removed my foot from the extra’s shoulder, but the person sprawled on the ground made no attempt to get up.
“It’s all over… I wanted to win this match in style and confess to her with dignity…”
Looking down at the extra, whose spirit had not only been broken but crushed, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.
‘Had I gone too far by stepping on someone about to confess? Was it too humiliating?’
With that in mind, I turned my head slightly, making sure the original characters seated in the stands couldn’t see my face. Loosening the whip wound around my blade, I let out a few words.
“If she has any feelings for you, she’ll accept your confession, win or lose.”
“……!!”
The extra jerked his head up in surprise.
I’d spoken with my head turned on purpose, so that Reysir Daudabina wouldn’t realize it was me.
If he tried to talk to me, it would be troublesome, so I tossed his sword aside and left the stage.
Thanks to the aftereffects of the Mental Acceleration skill, my head was spinning a bit, but I couldn’t show any weakness.
Since I’d never let the extra land a hit, I wasn’t injured.
So instead of seeking a healer’s treatment, I headed straight back to my seat—and ran into Reysir Daudabina along the way.
“Karbaldr! You fought way better than I expected! Honestly, I thought it’d be a close call even if you won, but you never lost control of the match for a second! That was amazing!”
“Not really… I don’t think it was anything that impressive, was it…?!”
Except for the very end, my opponent always attacked first. I only responded.
So it wasn’t exactly accurate to say I never lost control of the match.
And, considering Reysir Daudabina’s own skills, I could hardly call my performance “amazing.”
“No, it really was! Especially your reaction speed and instant decision-making—they really stood out!”
“That’s… well…”
I couldn’t talk about the Mental Acceleration skill, so I had nothing to say in rebuttal.
When I fell silent, Reysir Daudabina must have thought I was accepting his praise, because he smiled contentedly.
“…Enough idle talk. Go on, get up on the stage.”
“No words of encouragement?”
“None.”
“Then, will you praise me after the match if I win? Got it, thanks! I’ll look forward to it!”
“What? When did I ever say—”
Flustered, I tried to protest, but the protagonist of someone else’s novel didn’t even listen and strode off toward the stage.
I couldn’t exactly chase after him and insist on talking, so I just returned to my seat.
“Nya-nya-nang, nya~!”
As always, the first to welcome me was my beloved baby dragon.
Waving a whiteboard that read “Congrats ☆ on making the round of 16,” he looked so adorable I could hardly stand it.
It’s a shame I can only show readers this in writing.
Hugging Yor, I felt the urge to press my cheek against his smooth, scale-covered body and thank him from the bottom of my heart.
But I clung to reason, shrugged back on the coat I’d taken off, and sat down.
The two who’d stayed behind offered up praise I hadn’t even asked for.
“A-amazing…! S-so noble, so elegant, and… so composed! Ah, anyway, it was… incredible…!!”
Liolikin Tremmler was the first to speak up.
As expected of someone who planned his compliments in advance—his words were utterly empty.
“You only enhanced your physical abilities with Buff, but you still defeated someone with an offensive Aether Attribute so easily! Karbaldr, you have incredible battle sense!”
The only reason I was able to win this match was thanks to the Mental Acceleration skill.
And the reason I could use it so well was probably because the Buff skill boosted not only my body, but my mind as well.
So Vigdis Shalbrady’s words were mistaken.
I accepted Yor’s congratulations, but brushed off the others’ praise—so my emotions stayed steady.
Thanks to that, I could keep a calm face as I sat down…
‘Still, if I don’t react at all, they’ll feel awkward for complimenting me, won’t they…? But with my character setting, I can’t possibly say thanks!’
At times like this, it’s best to just snort and move on.
With that in mind, I let out a “hmph!” and lightly stroked Yor’s mane growing along his spine.
Honestly, I’d like to hug my baby dragon again, but—
‘If Reysir Daudabina returns and sees the seat beside me empty, he might misunderstand!’
Besides, it’ll be mealtime soon, and you can’t eat with a baby dragon wrapped around you.
Yor would probably find it awkward, too.
So, as regretful as it was, I had to seat Yor in the chair beside me.
“It’s already time for the final match of the first-year tournament! The previous matches have been outstanding—what kind of duel will these students show us? I can hardly wait!”
The announcer’s exaggerated voice blared from the Aether speakers installed throughout the area.
Hearing the audience reply with a loud “Yes~!” reminded me of the original story.
In the original, Reysir Daudabina was still being bullied at this point.
Because of Karbaldr’s interference, he arrived late to the Stadium.
But, just like now, he was scheduled for the last slot, so he barely avoided a default loss for tardiness.
And, when Reysir Daudabina finally arrived at the Stadium, the announcer said something—almost identical to what he’d just said now.
No, not just similar—exactly the same. There was no reason for it to change.
The announcer would speak, the audience would respond, and the protagonist, relieved by the match schedule, would hurry onto the stage.
But from there, things played out a little differently from the original.
This time, Reysir Daudabina was already on stage.
So instead of looking for the missing participant and counting down for a forfeit, the announcer immediately began the match.
As I remembered, Reysir Daudabina didn’t use his Aether Attribute ability in the first round.
Like Nidhr, he won using only the weapon skills he’d honed, not to show off, but simply because he didn’t feel the need to use anything more.
But this time—
—KABOOM!
As soon as the match started, Reysir Daudabina struck lightning at his opponent’s feet.
Naturally, the opponent jumped back in fright—a reflex.
But realizing he shouldn’t create distance, he immediately charged at Reysir Daudabina.
In the original, Reysir Daudabina’s first-round opponent was a student with an acceleration-type ability—a branch of physical enhancement.
That hadn’t changed—the opponent’s movements were lightning-fast.
But even so, he couldn’t be faster than lightning itself.
When Reysir Daudabina calmly thrust out his palm, a bolt of electricity shot from its center and hit his opponent.
It was just a tournament match, so he must have deliberately held back the output.
Even so, it was enough to paralyze an ordinary person’s body.
‘…Isn’t this crazy? How is anyone supposed to win against that?’
The original mentioned several times how overpowered his lightning ability was, but I never really felt it until now.
Monsters, Reysir Daudabina’s usual opponents, had resistance to all sorts of attacks, including electricity.
And most of the human villains he fought had either the skills or means to counter his lightning.
For instance, Karbaldr had his human shield, Liolikin Tremmler.
‘I never realized just how broken his lightning was…’
Sure, his opponent was only a first-year Academy student.
But to see someone neutralize their opponent with a few effortless gestures, without even breaking a sweat… I was at a loss for words.
If even I, watching from afar, felt this way, how much worse must it have been for his opponent—who’d just been zapped?
His hand was still shaking as he raised it and said something to the announcer.
I couldn’t hear the extra’s voice, but it wasn’t hard to guess what he meant.
‘He’s probably forfeiting, since there’s no point in continuing just to get shocked again.’
Sure enough, the announcer declared Reysir Daudabina the winner.
A perfectly natural result.
But Reysir Daudabina himself seemed surprised by the outcome, looking awkward.
“So forfeiting isn’t that unusual in martial tournaments, huh…?”
“Y-yeah, really. T-those c-cowards… Why’d they even bother entering if they were going to give up…”
Vigdis Shalbrady seemed to genuinely not understand why someone would forfeit instead of fighting to the end, even against an overwhelming opponent—unlike her.
Liolikin Tremmler, who couldn’t forfeit even if he wanted to, responded with a mix of anger and envy.
Still, when Reysir Daudabina returned to his seat, both congratulated him sincerely.
“So your Aether Attribute ability is lightning! With top-class spear skills and such fast, powerful lightning—no wonder you’re confident about winning it all.”
“I a-agree! T-to be this strong, not just with spearmanship but with your Attribute too…”
The mood was quite different from when I’d won by default in the preliminaries.
Back then, I’d heard things like “it’s best to win without fighting.” But what’s that even supposed to mean, in a tournament about testing your skills, not a war?
Somehow, I found myself in a bad mood, but if I let it show, the protagonist of someone else’s novel would just tease me about being sulky.
So I forced myself to keep my usual demeanor and asked the following question.
“Why did you bother using your Aether Attribute ability?”
“I already know what your Aether Attribute is. So shouldn’t you know mine, too, so we can have a fair fight in the second round?”
Reysir Daudabina said this as if it were the most natural thing in the world, grinning.
But I already knew all about his ability, so it didn’t feel like much of a favor.
‘Besides, with such a huge gap in our abilities, was a fair match even possible?’
So in pursuit of the “fairness” Reysir Daudabina spoke of, I wasn’t about to reveal my Mental Acceleration skill.
‘Why should I share that, when I’m already at an overwhelming disadvantage?’
With that thought, I was about to finish the conversation with a “hmph!” and turn my head—
“But Karbaldr, when are you going to praise me?”
…I’d hoped I could slip by without doing it, but Reysir Daudabina was persistent, as always.
“Come on! Praise me, now!”
“…Didn’t Vigdis and Liolikin Tremmler praise you enough?”
“It’s different when it comes from you.”
He had a point.
Even if the words are the same, who says them can make all the difference.
Praise is no exception.
“Like Vigdis said, lightning is a fast and powerful ability. It won’t be easy to deal with.”
“Can’t you give me praise I know is praise, right when I hear it? Not a vague comment that could be caution or a compliment, but something clear.”
“Fine, you’re really something. Satisfied?”
“It sounds like sarcasm, but I’ll let it slide today!”
“……”
“Today” meant he’d be demanding praise from me after every match from now on, didn’t it?
‘Maybe I should prepare my compliments in advance, just like Liolikin Tremmler did…’