In a spacious training room that seemed to have been cleared of any equipment one would expect to find in such a place, about two dozen animated flying swords battled each other in groups of two.

In between, a bald man with closed eyes and a sword in each of his scaled hands lived up to his class name, as he too seemed to be fighting several invisible enemies.

The concentration demanded of the man was visibly written on his face.

Because of this, he didn't notice when the door opened, and another person entered.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

clash

The man's eyes immediately snapped open, and simultaneously and with a great noise, all the magically moving swords fell to the ground.

“Fuck! Don’t come sneaking up on me like that. It’s still break-time, anyway.”

“Then why are you already at it again? Without waiting for me to return.”

“You know full well that I can’t afford to waste any time.”

Only a few more days until Richard would once again have to defend his title as the reigning free-for-all champion. The stress was immense; losing was not an option to him.

But things had become more and more difficult over the years.

Ever since his first appearance on the scene, which earned him his moniker and consolidated him as the best [Sword Dancer] in the history of the Games, he never stopped improving, but neither did his competitors.

Or rather, his opponents.

True competitors would not stoop so low.

Two years ago, they had barely even tried to hide their intentions anymore and effectively turned the competition into a nine-vs-one. And this was not just the exception, but a trend he had observed before.

And yet, Richard was confident he could be victorious once again. If only it wasn’t for the limitations of his class that became more and more obvious with each level-up.

The damage he did with his skills and basic sword attacks scaled with the same physical-based stats as was the case for most melee damage dealers.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that his ability to control these swords, both in terms of numbers and precision, didn’t.

This part of his class was strongly linked to the stats more commonly prioritized by casters. Summoners.

Not [Fairy Mages] or [Golemancers] whose summons were at the very least conscious enough to follow simple instructions, but more like an [Animator] who, like him, had to mentally control the objects he brought to life one by one.

Sadly, the number of stats acquired upon level up -which had become a rather rare occurrence anyway- felt very much insufficient to him; especially in regards to his willpower.

Finding more appropriate gear and solving the problem this way was the obvious solution. But alas.

Equipment with this almost contradictory distribution of values was not only difficult to find and seemingly even more difficult to craft, but also usually required some sort of trade-off that would ultimately lead to a reduction in his overall combat prowess.

That left him with few options.

Nowadays, hardly any classbearer would think of lifting weights to push themselves to their physical limits over an extended period of time, merely to be rewarded with a measly strength point or two; this method was usually reserved for classless people.

But it was basically the mental equivalent of this method which Richard had been practicing for the past few weeks, manually controlling all of his swords to the highest degree and for extended periods of time, all in an attempt to increase his willpower by just that one more point.

Without the support of Sib, his better half and the most capable [Mindbender] he had ever known, this regimen would have been impossible for him to endure.

“All I know is that you’re incorrigible.” [Mindbender] chided him and stepped over the swords littering the floor, making her way over to the window overlooking the shared training facilities below, before waving Richard over.

Knowing arguing would be futile, Richard complied. He made his collection of handpicked swords disappear into his inventory and also walked over to the window.

“These two are going to fight next.” Sib pointed towards a girl and a boy.

The scaled man was not interested in the slightest, but played along.

“Who? Those two? Should be [Berserkers]. Silver badges. Not bad for their age. Especially the boy. Looks like he might be able to reach for gold soon. Still. Not exactly a fight to be excited about.”

“Yet they’ll be fighting on the featured stage. And it was the girl who made the challenge.”

Slightly more interest than before, Richard started observing the girl in question more closely as she gulped down the contents of a small, strangely shaped bottle, before asking, “What could these silver badges possibly wager to skip right to the front of the waiting list?”

“It’s exactly these badges.”

“What? They’re betting their badges? Stupid kids. Just what exactly did happen for them to go this far?”

“This… I’m not completely sure myself. Apparently, the boy was running his mouth. Saying [The Savage] was an overrated has-been. That in a few years’ time he would be the strongest [Berserker]. Something along those lines.”

“[Savage Sam]? Paha.“ Hearing Sib’s words, Richard had to laugh, which was very rare these days.

“For this he really does deserve a thrashing, ha. But the girl…”

He kept observing the foolish [Berserker] as she summoned her claws.

Topnotch quality. For its level.

Showing the markings of a certain popular dungeon located in the Golden Mountains, he felt his suspicions confirmed as to her level, and thus roughly heir actual strength. Similar was true for her opponent; in Richard’s eyes, the fight was already as good as decided.

The fact that the girl was now applying the contents of two vials to both of these claws made her look even more desperate in his eyes. Poison was strictly banned in these settings, and aside from that, there was nothing that could save her in this situation.

Once she was done with this hopeless act, the girl exchanged a few words with the two people accompanying her-a robed boy who appeared even younger than her, and a nondescript-looking man in his thirties who looked completely out of place- before climbing into the generously laid out sparring ring where her opponent was already waiting for her with an uncomfortable smile on his face.

Soon the official, working for the operator of the arena’s training grounds, gave the go-ahead.

Immediately, the difference in levels, or at least in stats, was confirmed, though Richard had to admit that the girl was way faster than he had expected her to be based on her gear.

“Maybe hasn’t found a suitable replacement yet. Still doesn’t look good.”

“Her movements are, though. Great fundamentals. Few openings.” Even if her class allowed her to do otherwise, and Sib usually took a more supportive role, that didn't mean she was any less able than Richard to see through and judge these matters; especially not when it involved two children several levels below her own.”

“And that boy is far from horrible, either. Movements look a bit more unconventional, but he obviously put a lot of hard work into it. He certainly didn’t just leech experience and relied on his level-ups.”

At this point, the observing man and woman visibly cringed as the girl received a brutal backhand blow to her gut.

“Almost got skewered there. And all those wounds already…”

“That’s why I hate watching [Berserkers]. For them, the real match only starts at the point where most casters and even some melees would forfeit. That, and they’re usually too low level to display any kind of finesse.”

For several minutes, the two kept observing the fight in silence; what happened in the ring below them was a very one-sided beat up not worth commenting on.

“What do you estimate their health?”

“Eighty percent. Maybe even higher. As for her… let’s just say I expect the next hit or two to put her into enrage. With that, she should be able to at least get some more damage in, but I don’t…”

"There it is!" When Sib saw the female [Berserker's] eyes begin to glow red, she knew that the situation Richard had just predicted had just become reality. But.

“Did I see that wrong?! I swear she was just about to enrage.”

“No, I saw it as well,” Richard agreed. “Her HP was right on the threshold.”

“Look! Her wounds.”

“Hm?”

“The blood is still there, but I swear some of them just closed. The big one on her thigh. See? It’s gone!”

“That’s impossible. Neither one of them has the levels to have learned [Furious Recovery] yet.”

Silence

They exchanged a quick glance and continued spectating the fight.

“Whatever that was, it doesn’t matter.

And now she just wasted all of her rage for an [Empowering Shout] without the means for a follow up.” Neither one of them was a [Berserker] nor did they encounter them too often, but as high leveled professionals, they still had a good understanding of the specifics, the strengths and weaknesses of the class.

“Maybe I overestimated her.”

“Don’t be harsh. She’s probably just desperate.”

“You might be right. At the same time… why does the boy seem to become more and more reckless? And… slower?”

The more they watched, the more bizarre the fight became.

Just as they deemed the fight to basically be over, the girl unleashed an onslaught of [Wild Strikes] she shouldn’t have had the resources for.

“But she telegraphed it too obviously. His [Bearskin] is still off-cooldown. There is no way…”

The next moment, Richard was once again proven wrong.

But not just him. The [Mindbender] didn’t know what to think anymore, either.

Faced with a in their eyes, low-level fight, their years of experience suddenly seemed completely worthless.

“I get it now. It provides some kind of slow effect.”

“What did?” Richard didn’t immediately catch on.

“That stuff she put on her claws.”

“You might be right.”

“But that still doesn’t explain…”

“… the damage?” He completed the sentence.

“Hm. His wounds don’t match with either the amount or the kind of hits she landed on him. Doesn’t add up.”

“Unless that stuff has some other properties as well. Like somehow providing elemental damage. Cold damage, specifically. Would easily pierce through the defenses of a [Berserker] expecting a physical hit. I don’t know how, but that has to be it. I mean, look at him. Look at his face! He doesn’t know what’s happening, either.“

As if to affirm these words, now it was the male [Berserker] whose eyes began to turn red. Then his whole body bulged up. The blood he was covered with almost seemed to be boiling. His movements visibly quickened.

But he wasn’t the only one.

The girl experienced the same changes. And this time, her transformation wasn’t interrupted.

Following the flow of combat, it should have been obvious that this hadn’t been a balanced fight. And yet, judging by the fact that both combatants fell into [Enrage] at exactly the same time, the crowd spectating the fight grew excited, attraction even the spectators who had previously dismissed this confrontation as too low level; watching two equally matched [Berserkers] going at each other while enraged, truly was a rare treat.

“Those fools, don’t they realize something is off? She must’ve lost enough health to fall into [Enrage] multiple times already.”

“She barely managed to defend against his counterattack,” Sib agreed. “How she is still standing is beyo…”

Another change inside the ring cut Sib off.

The girl’s movements slowed down. Her color and overall size of her body turned back to normal.

“Impossible. She clearly didn’t leave combat. So, how did she ...?”

“She must’ve somehow healed herself. Again. It’s the same as earlier.

This fight is far from over!”

…

As he went down, Felix didn’t know what happened. How did he end up in this situation? How was any of this real?

He had been confident he would be the first [Berserker] in years to push through to gold rank. And he was still young. Even going beyond gold was not just an empty dream.

So how did it come to this?

Was this the punishment for wanting to show off in front of a cute fellow [Berserker]?