The Rising of the Scythe Hero

"Ladies and gentlemen, the day has come! The climax of our tournament is about to unfold before your very eyes! THE FINAL MATCH! Please welcome — the rookie who's become one of this tournament's biggest surprises — Hida-a-a-an!" Once again this week, the gates before me creaked open, revealing the path to the arena. "And his opponent — already a familiar face in tournaments despite his young age, known far and wide and the crowd's favorite — the Gladiator, Fohl!"

From the door on the far end of the arena stepped out… a boy. Thirteen years old at most. Maybe even younger. A demi-human with two-toned hair — black and white — a small side braid, white tiger ears, and bright blue eyes. He reminded me of someone, but…

Was this the guy Nadia warned me about?

I hadn't faced anyone noteworthy in the semifinals. In fact, I found it kind of strange those guys had even made it that far. Or maybe their opponents got conveniently "taken out," like someone had tried to do to me?

But this kid… yeah, he actually did feel strong for his age. If I couldn't roughly sense the power level of my opponents, I probably wouldn't have taken him seriously at all — just like Nadia said.

This might actually be fun. How had he gotten this strong at his age? And why hadn't he grown yet if his level was so high? If I remembered right, Raphtalia started changing physically around level 20 — and this guy was definitely stronger than that. So what gives?

And he was a slave, too. The brand wasn't visible, but there was something about his energy — something eerily similar to Wyndia's mark. And still… I knew he reminded me of someone. But who? Had I ever even met anyone like him before? I hadn't been in this world that long — hard to believe I could've forgotten something like that.

Meanwhile, the announcer kept pouring verbal gasoline on the fire, hyping up the "products" on display. While he did his thing, my opponent and I had plenty of time to size each other up.

The kid's face, honestly, was pretty cute. Even now, with his expression as serious as if his life depended on this fight, it still came off more endearing than intimidating. Straight-up s̶h̶o̶t̶a̶c̶o̶n̶ bait.

Fohl made the first move. He wasn't carrying a weapon, which threw me off at first — but that confusion didn't last long.

The kid was using Qi. Probably not entirely consciously — the flow was unstable during his attacks, which gave it away — but still. That was already impressive. For a regular person, mastering Qi on their own is practically impossible. Even I, knowing about this energy and backed by the system, had spent a good chunk of time trying to learn it properly.

Against someone like me, Fohl was in a rough spot. The moment the duel started, he rushed straight at me, trying to close the distance and force a hand-to-hand fight — which was clearly his specialty. So someone like me, fighting at mid-range with a polearm, was basically his natural counter.

We were fighting on even ground. He dodged nearly every strike I threw at him, then darted back in, weaving in zigzags at angles that made it insanely hard for me to line up an effective attack. I had to keep backing off, taking his hits on a reinforced forearm block or managing the space between us with the shaft of the weapon — since using the blade itself wasn't always an option.

Fohl was a genuinely skilled fighter. Capital-F Fighter. Anyone on his level, he'd beat without much trouble. I couldn't even begin to imagine how many battles someone his age had to go through to build up that kind of experience.

He even managed to catch me off guard once! During one of his attempts to push me back — after a clever feint got me to swing my "spear" wide — he suddenly ducked low, grabbed the shaft, and yanked it toward himself. Then he went for a lightning-fast leg sweep that almost threw off my balance, but…

"Ugh!" Fohl winced and hopped back, limping on one foot after the impact. "What the…?"

Yikes. That was awkward.

I may have been fighting at his level, but I couldn't exactly turn down my physical stats. So just by raw power alone, Fohl didn't have enough strength to take me off my feet. Instead, he'd earned himself the joy of what it feels like for a regular person to kick a tree as hard as they can.

Looks like it's time to wrap this up. He's already giving me that confused, suspicious look. Which is a shame — his technique was actually pretty interesting.

And speaking of technique… something had been bugging me in the back of my mind. The idea of developing my own technique was tempting, but… something kept stopping the thought from fully forming. Like there was some kind of barrier — a level wall, maybe?

Scythe Mastery was still the only skill I'd pushed all the way to level 9. And from the way it felt… I had a hunch level 10 might be the cap. So was I really facing something like a breakthrough wall? Like a stereotypical cultivator trying to ascend to the next realm?

"Well then, little tiger, how about we give the crowd a show?" I smiled, deciding to put on a bit of a finale.

I spun the scythe in my hand, raised the shaft slightly, then slammed it down hard against the ground.

"Ice Field."

Yeah — I'd finally learned Silent Casting. A method of using magic without chanting or saying anything out loud. Of course, it came with its own limitations and downsides — like reduced spell power and the need to master each individual spell one at a time. But over time, as I used specific spells, I'd been accumulating a sort of proficiency with them. And once that proficiency hit a certain threshold, I could trigger them using what was basically "Tech Casting" mode.

But for spells like Ice Field, the reduced power wasn't a big deal. It didn't have any direct "attack strength" — it was more of a support spell by nature. Which meant that using silent casting for this kind of magic could be incredibly useful.

"What the…?"

Fohl was clearly surprised. Even with all his combat experience, he probably hadn't seen silent magic before. From what I'd gathered, it was an extremely rare phenomenon — and without help from a Legendary Weapon, almost impossible to learn.

Finally seeing something flashy, the crowd erupted in excited chatter. Meanwhile, I planted the shaft of the scythe behind me, kicked off the ground, and dashed straight toward my opponent. The tournament had been a decent way to earn some money — but it wasn't my main goal. I'd finally come up with a bigger plan, and now was the perfect time to put it into motion.

Zeltoble — the land of coliseums and mercenaries. And a mercenary's earnings depended entirely on their strength and reputation. So how do you build a reputation? By standing out in the most popular tournaments, of course. Both legal… and otherwise.

Fohl dodged my charge with a leap to the side, but ended up sliding hard across the ice as a result. I improvised — jabbing the scythe's slightly curved blade into the frozen ground, spinning like the hand of a clock, and then launching myself at him again as I let go of the weapon.

Of course, the scythe didn't feel like being left behind — it immediately flew right back into my hand.

The stunned little tiger snapped back quickly and just dropped flat, letting me sail clean over him like a bullet. But then I ran into a small problem I hadn't really thought about, caught up in the momentum as I was…

How exactly was I supposed to stop?

Swinging a leg mid-air, I threw off my balance and tilted my upper body forward. Then I dug the scythe into the ground at an angle, slammed my feet into it, and carved a deep line through the ice — easily a dozen meters or more.

"Psycho!" came my opponent's loud and heartfelt opinion.

"Maybe. But I'm having fun!"

"You're… you're just playing with me?!" Fohl's eyes were full of frustration and anger.

"Who knows."

Smirking, I dispelled the ice and rushed at him again. Only this time, I wasn't holding back. The shaft of the scythe shot straight toward Fohl's gut — but somehow, with what had to be insane reflexes, he managed to swat it aside in a panic. Judging by his expression, even he didn't know how he pulled it off.

He tried to follow up, a little too late. I parried his punch, grabbed his wrist, and simply flipped him over my shoulder — slamming him hard into the ground.

Fohl let out a sharp, gasping breath and tried to get back up right away, but it was already over. My next jab — again with the shaft — hit dead center. He couldn't block it this time. Clutching his stomach, he curled up into a fetal position.

"So, little tiger…" I smiled, crouching down next to him. "Someone asked me not to kill you. So do me a favor and surrender."

Fohl's eyes snapped wide open. He even stopped coughing.

"Wait… someone asked you?"

"Yeah. I'd rather not upset her over something this trivial, so how about you let this one go?"

"'Her'? No way…" Fohl visibly paled, then shook his head hard. "No… there's no way it's her. And I… I can't surrender…"

And he actually started to rise! Slowly, weakly, his arms shaking like crazy — but still. He was getting up.

"You're putting me in a tough spot."

"I can't surrender… Not when it's for her…"

I had no idea who he meant, but I wasn't about to throw away all the money I'd bet without a solid reason. I wanted to settle this more cleanly — but oh well. At least I tried.

His potential with Qi definitely caught my interest. And with my current abilities, I could also roughly gauge his overall potential — which was honestly pretty solid. Not to mention, his race clearly stood out from the average demi-human. His life energy… how to put it… felt like it was a few tiers above normal.

Fohl had almost managed to stand up — wobbly, but vertical — when I made my decision. I looked into his eyes, filled with stubborn resolve to fight to the bitter end. Then I shifted my grip on the scythe, dashed forward in a blur, and with a burst of force, launched a high kick straight into his chin.

And that was the knockout.

Several long seconds of dead silence followed — broken only by the heavy thud of his body hitting the ground. Then the stands erupted in thunderous applause.

And just like that, I became the winner of one very large, very underground tournament.