Elza, Off to the Preliminaries

The crowd's excitement had reached a fever pitch.

The third group's preliminary had delivered a spectacular set of matchups, and it showed.

Master had already secured two qualifiers, putting him firmly in the black. He was thoroughly enjoying the Ocelot Colosseum at this point. He'd even ordered snacks.

He'd expected Alexia to advance, given her background as a former noble who'd seen actual battlefields, but Azu's strong showing was the real windfall.

Thinking back to how frail she'd been in the beginning, he could almost cry.

The drinks were good, too.

The fourth group's contestants made their entrance.

Elza stood out in her habit.

Clerics, or cleric trainees, were common enough among adventurers.

The churches encouraged it, even.

Elza, of the Creator King faith, no longer had a church to encourage her.

The healing miracles granted through faith in the divine. Blessings that enhanced abilities. Purification that cleansed poison and corruption. All were in high demand among adventurers.

Yet clerics rarely showed up in tournaments like this.

Many considered monster slaying a divine calling, but that didn't mean they enjoyed fighting for its own sake.

On top of that, clerics were rearguard fighters. Unlike mages, they had few offensive options.

Even if they entered a tournament, advancing was difficult. As a result, spotting a cleric in a venue like this was rare.

With her gentle smile and striking beauty, Elza was quite popular with the audience.

When she waved, the men in the stands responded enthusiastically.

Master looked rather proud watching that.

She gripped her usual mace.

It was so well-maintained that it gleamed in the light.

At the referee's signal, the preliminary round began.

Elza cast a blessing on herself and surveyed her surroundings.

She'd been beautifully excluded from the fray.

The others probably figured a cleric could be dealt with later.

"Hmm. So that's how it is."

Elza tapped the head of her mace against her open left palm, pat pat.

Nothing for it. She approached the nearest pair of contestants.

They were locked in a one-on-one duel, sword versus jamadhar.

Evenly matched, it seemed. They'd reached a standoff partway through and were sizing each other up.

When Elza crept up behind the sword-wielding contestant, the one with the jamadhar noticed.

The jamadhar fighter watched Elza with a puzzled look. Then Elza raised her mace high.

And swung it down with everything she had.

"Heave!"

Without a shred of hesitation. Smiling the entire time.

A dull thud, and the swordsman vanished.

The hit must have registered as a fatal blow, teleporting him to the infirmary.

The jamadhar fighter's eyes went wide at the sight.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're a cleric and you fight like that?"

"…? I'm using the mace correctly, aren't I? Was something odd about it?"

Elza answered as though genuinely confused.

The gap between her appearance and her actions was so jarring that the jamadhar fighter needed a moment to shake off the shock before settling back into a stance.

Shocking spectacle or not, fighting a cleric had to be easier than fighting his previous opponent. That much was certain.

The fighter readjusted his grip on the jamadhar, a distinctively shaped short blade, and measured the distance, biding his time.

Elza just stood there. Wide open. Full of openings.

She didn't look remotely like someone competing in a tournament.

The curves of her ample figure were plainly visible through her habit, and the jamadhar fighter felt a twinge of embarrassment.

Clerics were a godsend for anyone who made a living through combat, not just adventurers.

Many had been pulled from the jaws of death by one.

The jamadhar fighter owed a great debt to a cleric himself.

That made this harder than it should have been.

Hoping to at least make it painless, he closed the distance in one burst and aimed for Elza's neck.

Elza deflected it with nothing more than a tilt of her mace.

Metal clashed against metal with a sharp ring.

Their weapons locked, seemingly at a stalemate.

No. Not a deadlock at all.

The first thing the jamadhar fighter felt was the sensation of having struck a massive boulder.

He stole a glance at Elza's face. She was smiling, mace in hand.

He was the only one straining. Elza looked like she was simply holding her mace.

And yet no matter how hard he pushed, she didn't budge.

Elza shifted her weight forward.

Her face drew close enough to fill his vision, but the jamadhar fighter had bigger problems.

No matter how much force he put in, he couldn't push Elza back.

She wasn't exactly frail, but by appearances alone, she looked like a weak woman.

And he couldn't overpower her.

With each step Elza took forward, the jamadhar fighter was forced one step back.

Was this the difference a blessing made? But even so, this was absurd.

Before he could finish the thought, one foot swept through empty air.

He was inches from the edge.

"And there we go. Thanks for the match!"

With that, Elza gave one final shove, and the jamadhar fighter was pushed unceremoniously out of bounds.

Having finished her work, Elza wiped the sweat from her brow.

Except she wasn't sweating at all. It was just for show.

The preliminary was progressing on the main stage.

It was already past the midway point.

The remaining contestants were Elza, a provocatively dressed dancer, a Spartian warrior, a beastfolk fighter, and a bard.

An eccentric group, to say the least.

The dancer, the Spartian warrior, and the beastfolk fighter had locked into a three-way brawl, so Elza headed for the bard.

As she drew within range, the bard began playing his instrument.

Slowly at first. Then the tempo surged.

Elza listened to the melody.

The fierce rhythm of the music gradually took on a magical charge. Notes began to rise from the instrument in physical form, and one struck Elza square in the head.

Elza pressed a hand to where it hit.

"… That's rather rude to your audience, don't you think?"

"This is an arena, not a concert hall."

"You're one to talk."

A barrage of notes materialized and surged toward Elza.

She swung her mace in wide arcs, putting on a show of fighting spirit.

"Right then, here I come!"