Chapter 41: Dahlia’s Slapstick Debut
The announcer’s voice rang out.
"Now for the second match! Dahlia from the God Gym versus Endrick of the Yellow Claw Sect!"
The crowd buzzed.
"God Gym? What kind of sect is that?"
Dahlia stood, stretching her arms once.
She still wore her loose robe, hiding the combat suit underneath.
There was no way she would show off her abs to a stadium full of strangers.
On the opposite side, Endrick marched in.
He wore the yellow and brown uniform of his sect, and a long sword was at his hip.
His hair was slicked back with oil, shining under the sun.
When his eyes fell on Dahlia, he frowned.
"To think my opponent is just a girl..."
He shook his head, waving her off.
"Just give up. I don’t want to hurt a little girl like you."
Dahlia’s brow twitched.
She raised her hands, sliding one foot back, palm facing forward.
"Come here. Let me finish this fast."
People then turned to stare at Endrick, whose face already reddened.
"You dare mock me?"
He took out his sword, eyes on Dahlia.
"Fine. I’ll show you the Yellow Claw sword!"
Dahlia tilted her head, waving her hand in a ’come on’ motion.
The announcer raised both arms.
"Begin!"
Endrick didn’t waste any second and rushed forward.
His blade came crashing down in a sharp diagonal slash.
"Take this! Claw Sweep!"
The crowd gasped at his speed.
Dahlia stood calm.
To her eyes, it was nothing but a basic diagonal strike.
She tilted her body, stepping to the side with one light movement.
The sword cut nothing but air.
This made Endrick frowned, grinding his teeth.
"Don’t think dodging once makes you special!"
He twisted his wrist and swung again, this time unleashing two rapid horizontal slashes.
"Double Rake!"
His sword blurred from right to left, then left to right.
Dahlia’s eyes tracked his shoulder and his stance.
She saw everything before it happened.
She stepped back just enough, letting the blade whistle past her chest.
Another step back and a second strike missed as well.
From the stands, Garion whistled.
"Good footwork! But don’t give up the center line, Dahlia. Own the floor!"
The elders nearby were confused at his strange words.
Endrick snarled, circling to the side.
He stomped lightly, shifting his weight back and forth, hopping left and right.
"So you’re a nimble type, huh? Fine. I’ll cut off your escape!"
He went to the left, then suddenly lunged forward, sword flashing straight ahead.
Mana burst around his blade.
"Piercing Fang!"
The thurst shot toward her stomach like an arrow.
The crowd leaned forward, sure she would be skewered.
Dahlia didn’t flinch and just narrowed her eyes.
At the very last moment, she lifted her left hand and slapped the flat of the blade, gripping it tight.
The thrust stopped dead, an inch from her body.
Endrick’s eyes went wide.
"What? H-how can you stop my sword with your bare hand?!"
Dahlia looked at her and just answered coldly.
"Because your form is too weak and predictable."
Gasps spread across the arena.
Endrick’s face twisted.
He tried to pull back, but Dahlia stepped in closer, her right palm already drawing back.
Her body swayed like a wave rolling forward.
She twisted her hips, pushing from the ground up, her entire weight flowing into her strike.
"Wave Palm!"
Her palm crashed into Endrick’s face with a sound like thunder.
Smack!
His head snapped back.
His body lifted off his feet and flew a full meter before crashing tot eh stone floor.
Silence.
Endrick’s limb twitched once before going still. He was out cold.
The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter. Some shouted in disbelief.
"One hit? Just one palm strike?!"
The announcer froze for a moment, sleeve halfway raised.
Then he shouted, voice cracking.
"Winner. Dahlia of the God Gym!"
Dahlia lowered her hands slowly, her face flat.
She looked down at her palm, then at Endrick’s body. A frown crossed her lips.
"...That’s it? Finished in one hit? How weak."
In the waiting area, several other competitors swallowed hard, suddenly rethinking their chances.
Up in the stands, Garion stood, throwing his head back and laughing hard.
"Good! Really Good! That’s my disciple."
He slapped his thigh and laughed louder, bothering the nearby elders.
Several elders quickly frowned deeply as they whispered among themselves.
"So that loud, crude man is her master..."
"No wonder the girl is so crude and rude. Look at him, shouting like a madman."
"A disgrace to the seats of masters."
One elder in green leaned forward.
"Someone should go remind him of proper etiquette."
Garion stopped laughing just long enough to notice their looks.
His grin turned sharp as he leaned back, staring right at the group of elders.
"What? You got a problem with me?"
He took off his outer robe and tossed it aside, standing bare-chested.
He flexed his muscles and let his veins bulge across his arms and shoulders.
"Is your disciple that weakling Endrick? Don’t glare at me. Go glare at him for losing!"
The elder’s face turned red. Some clenched their fists but didn’t rise from their seats.
Garion pointed at them with his thumb.
"Don’t blame me because your training is trash. My disciple wins, and you glare? That’s the best you have? What are you, sulky teenagers?"
A few elders who didn’t want to intervene laughed a bit.
Some others gasped at his audacity.
The elder in green finally spoke up.
"You show no respect, outsider."
Garion spread his arms wide, still flexing.
"Respect? Respect is earned. And your boy just got slapped into dreamland by one palm. That’s the truth. Don’t like it? Train harder."
The air in the premium seats had turned sour.
Elder whispered, glaring, and Garion sat bare-chested with his arms crossed, still smirking.
Finally, one elder in a plain grey robe sighed and stood, raising his hand.
"Please, everyone. Stand down. These are the premium seats. We are here to watch the competition, not to fight each other."
The other elders went quiet, though their faces were stiff.