(Not) A Vanilla Levelling System

12#3

Actually, I have a chronic affliction: unlucky luck.

And if I have a relapse, I'll have at least three misfortunes in a day.

Starting from being thrown into the realm of delusions that I should have buried, buried deep, and forgotten years ago.

Transforming into a spiteful, lethargic girl whose only orientation in life is to be a lackey for female criminals.

Then get a quicker chance to become a living punching bag.

What happens after this? Suddenly lightning strikes or become paralysed for life?

I gulped every time I tried to look closely at this.

The walls were grey and seemed unforgiving. With two unlit torches perched on each of the cardinal points.

The floor was mostly filled with sand, but there was a flat surface as well, so I didn't have to worry about not getting a bump or not getting enough bumps.

"Ladies, there's no need to be scared or worried, I'll try not to be too hard during the fight," said the voice in front of me so presumptuously.

Hah!

"Te-thank you, Mr Panger-"

"Don't thank me, Dimitri!" I clucked impatiently.

As if he was a prince or something, how dare he mock me so blatantly, with a straight face too.

What was his name? Ah, right. Devon. Devon Donovan. The younger brother of the crown prince.

I used to call him the Wolf Protector.

With a grey mane over his shoulders, a piercing gaze that seemed to strip him naked, a flat expression that was hard to guess.

But if you look closely, he looks more like a lonely bloke who can't keep up with his appearance.

Dishevelled.

Dishevelled.

Pathetic.

And people like this dare to think of me as nothing more than a tiny hamster who deserves pity instead of respect?

"You think just because you're a man and a prince, you think you're stronger than us?" I smiled wryly, half sarcastically, half anxiously.

Despite such a haughty attitude, the truth was that my chances of winning still hadn't changed: a big zero.

But, yes, I heard this advice from the most meticulous person in the field: be strong when you are weak, and be weak when you are strong.

"Haha, that's right, Donovan. If all the women here were weak, there's no way the old man would organise a mock battle, right?" Devon's partner chimed in.

Ah, what was his name just now? Arsenault?

Again, a name I don't recognise.

But, this person seemed like someone to watch out for. Because even though his appearance was just as unconvincing as Devon's, the curve on his lips seemed to indicate more than a stupid grin full of challenge.

"In that case, I apologise for my impoliteness and insensitivity. I did not mean to offend either of you or question either of your abilities."

"The point is to prove it when it starts." I gulped, trying not to stammer.

Dylan shouted an order, telling us to take the designated distance-two-ten-five metres apart-and get ready.

Wow, what a powerbroker!

If I'm not mistaken, his rank is no more than the Supreme Commander of the palace.

"Um..., Ra-Rachel."

"Hm?"

"Ka-I think we should know each other's abilities before we start. S-so our cooperation can be better."

Well, that's true.

But, you see, Dimitri darling, I don't even know anything about my powers yet. "That's true. If so, how about you explain your abilities first."

"O-okay." Dimitri looked at Devon and Arsenault in alarm, then said in a whisper, so it took extra attention to really listen to him. "I can transfer muscle mass from one organ to another in an instant."

Dimitri seemed to realise that I still didn't understand, so he pointed his little finger in front of his face. "Like this." Suddenly, the pinky became as big as a thumb, veiny, and tough.

That... how did she do that? "Cool!" I said unconsciously.

But, the pinky went right back to the way it was. When he said it again, Dimitri's face blushed, "Ta-but, for maximum effect, I can only transfer it to one limb. And the more muscle I focus on one limb, the weaker and more vulnerable the other limbs become. So this ability is not that cool."

Wah, wah.

This is more like a secret prize in a lottery.

I've decided that you will become a meat shield.

Now I don't have to worry about being in pain.

"What about you, Rachel? What do you think?"

I gulped. "Well, about that-"

"-Gentlemen and ladies, the rules are simple as I told you a moment ago: no sharp weapons; poisonous; or lethal equipment. The match will be stopped if one of you gives up or cannot continue. Is that understood?"

Huh! I never thought I'd hear Dylan's heavy voice.

But, it meant that this life-and-death situation was getting closer.

"Then, the match starts from now on."

This is it.

Unexpectedly, the start wasn't as brutal as I thought it would be.

The four of us just circled each other in place, keeping the safest distance, eyes watching.

It seemed like this was the first sparring match. So everyone didn't know what the others were capable of.

Devon crouched down, grasping the sand suspiciously.

I did the martial arts stance I knew.

What is this? Is he trying to mess with our visual perception by sprinkling sand into the air?

Hah! It's far away, you idiot. How could you throw it!

No, it's not. It wasn't!

Devon brought two handfuls of sand together when he touched two palms. Then, when the hands were brought up, a slender, elbow-length sword with a blunt tip appeared.

Devon grasped the sword with one hand, taking a stance to attack.

Dimitri's stance also went on the defensive.

This is it.

The first attack.

Huh! But, what could such a tiny sword do in front of Dimitri's giant hand?

That's when I realised that Arsenault had disappeared from sight.

Shit!

I turned my head this way and that. Searching frantically.

Where did that guy go? Is this his magic? Can he manipulate body size? Or was creating illusions through the medium of sound?

Bugh!

That was a powerful kick.

Right to the stomach.

I bounced and rolled until I almost hit the wall.

You bastard!

It hurt like hell! I almost threw up. My vision became blurry.

But, I could still see him vaguely.

Arsenault was about five metres away. Intact. Without any manipulation. She raised her foot, prepared to advance and delivered a second blow.

Huh! Did you think it could be that easy?

I don't even know what my magic is, but I've experienced worse in the past. So my reflexes are good.

Arsenault stepped forward.

I prepared to dodge.

Too late! No, no. Not too late, but he was... too fast.

Fast here is not the running of an athlete or an educated soldier.

Well, have you ever felt the wind? You only realise its existence when it has touched you.  That damn Arsenault moved that fast.

His form seemed to dissolve into momentary flashes that zigzagged. And suddenly he was there. His feet were in front of my face. He immediately kicked my head.

I didn't have time to argue.

My cheek was the target this time.

It was stinging, painful, and tingling.

Wait! Was that my broken tooth?

Even though I was in a terrible condition, that bastard Arsenault seemed to have no conscience.

He stormed back with thumping steps. This time, he didn't bother flashing.

Arsenault walked casually, lifted a foot, and prepared to stomp on my face like a turd.

"He-stop!"

A giant hand tried to grab and crush Arsenault's leg. But, the man immediately dodged with the tempo of a demon.

"Rachel!" Dimitri approached. His one hand was back to normal.

Hey! Don't come here! You'd better finish off that ignorant man first, at least break his skull please.

Just as Dimitri was about to crouch down and reach out, a tiny dagger slid towards his face and gave a long scratch across Dimitri's cheek.

I turned my head spontaneously, finding Devon who was already crouched down, picking up sand, about to form another dagger.

Shit!

How precise could his throwing be?

Perhaps, if Dimitri was unlucky, his eyes would have been poked out-and that's an unpleasant sight on such a beautiful morning.

So in the spirit of sportsmanship, I raised a protest. "Hey, aren't you not allowed to use sharp weapons?"

Arsenault, who was ready to go again, stopped and blinked, waiting for Dylan's decision.

Since he was quite close to us, I thought of telling Dimitri to come over and grab his body with a giant arm that was off guard.

But, Arsenault's unpredictable speed made me abandon my intention.

Moreover, I also didn't know what my ability was. My body was also at the limit.

One more blow, maybe I could be sent straight to hell-this time for real.

"From my observations, what the Lord Prince created is by no means as sharp or deadly as you imply, Miss Dawver."

"Huh?"  What the hell is that?

Is this some kind of nepotism? Corruption in disguise?

Heh! If you're going to win unfairly, at least involve me too.

I can act like I'm losing as impressively as a seasoned actor-if the commission isn't too bad.

"Or do you want to end it here?"

I winced as Dylan flashed me an annoying grin.

"I'm not really comfortable hurting a girl either. So if you two don't mind... we'll take it." Arsenault shrugged

and smiled along.

Damn! Are they making fun of me again? "No!"

Dimitri turned his head, eyes glazed over. "But, Rachel, just now you-"

"Didn't you hear? The match is still on." I didn't realise that my tone had risen just now.

Ah, never mind, the only thing to think about now was to teach this bastard duo the most appropriate lesson.

After that, Arsenault advanced again. His steps zigzagged closer in a super-fast rhythm.

His attack almost came. Fortunately, I had time to shout. "DIMITRI!"

Dimitri obeyed silently. He turned his hand into a giant arm full of tough chunks of muscle, then shaded and protected me in an impenetrable embrace.

Now that's a friend.

But, only briefly relieved, I suddenly felt a small rumble and the fortress of flesh that I thought was safe turned out to be more fragile than I had dared to expect.

Through the slits of Dimitri's gigantic fingers, I could see Arsenault kicking; punching; and doing a combination of the two in a blind, violent rush.

"Dimtiri, you can still hold on, right?" It would be bad if this meat fortress suddenly became a weapon and collapsed on me.

"Still! Take it easy, Rachel. Are you focusing on the next strategy?"

Huh? Strategy, huh.

Okay. I just thought of one brilliant idea: just wait until Arsenault is exhausted.

He'll faint, then attack the damn prince with Dimitri's monster calm.

Hm .... Right. It's confirmed.

Okay. Attack all you want, Arsenault!

We won't be afraid!

But, after that, the attack stopped.

Arsenault just stood there, not far from us, without any stance, without any tricks, without trying to defend herself.

What was this? Some kind of trap?

I hurriedly looked further ahead, where Devon was running towards here.

Are they planning something like a surprise attack?

Hah! Idiot! Did I think I'd fall into the same hole?

Did I tell Dimitri to just attack that Arsenault? No, no. His speed is risky.

If I uncovered his only defence in an uncertain strategy, I'd end up losing again.

Besides, on the other hand, the prince's aim was also dangerous.

While engrossed in thinking of the safest way to win and avoid losing more broken bones, Arsenault suddenly bent down.

Completely silent.

"Dimitri, catch him!" My instinct suddenly took over. For some reason, it felt like if I didn't do something right then and there, the chances of winning would vanish.

And sure enough.

Arsenault was overwhelmed when he dodged. But-surprisingly-he succeeded.

Not by dodging backwards. But jumping. Forwards. High and swift.

The leap even passed Dimitri's muscle shield. When he got close to his face, Devon lifted his leg.

No! That was not a self-saving move.

Instead, it was an attack!

"Dimi-"

Too late! Before I could finish speaking, a crushing kick was lodged into Dimitri's nose.

Shit! I just remembered what Dimitri said earlier. Something about his other limbs being weakened when his abilities are active and his muscle mass is concentrated in one point.

It's .... not that we shouldn't know each other's strengths? How could Arsenault know his weakness in an instant?

While I was puzzling over the possibility of another cheat, Dimitri seemed to bounce not too far away, his body returning to its original state, his state between consciousness and unconsciousness, revealing myself in the middle of a defenceless arena.

I saw Arsenault stance himself to attack again.

Ouch, this is a definite loss.

As I prepared to close my eyes in resignation, the onslaught came again as I expected.

But in the form of a half-cubit-long blunt stick-like object. Strong, but slower.

I was surprised that it was Devon.

Arsenault himself was still frozen in place, watching, as if waiting for something.

That was... strange.

But, Devon didn't give me time to think. He performed flat, vertical, and cross slashes with the precision of a soldier. Over and over again. Almost without pause.

But, apparently, dealing with Arsenault made my reflexes more practised.

I crouched, jumped, and even stepped backwards in often perfect timing. So, out of ten attacks, I only got hit three times-and even then, it wasn't devastating or causing me to collapse immediately like before.

Right after the last attack, Devon retreated, apparently frustrated.

Hah! What a cowardly man, that's all he's got-

Duak!

Damn. He did not give up. He aimed the stick and threw it right at my nose.

It's a good thing we weren't too close together.

Because with that kind of force, the only positive aspect of this troublesome physique could have been broken.

As I stroked my face to soothe the pain, that's when I realised that death was on its way.

Coming in a thunderous roar like the incarnation of a soundless storm, Arsenault's shadow loomed over me in a larger and more terrifying apparition than I remembered.

Damn it! Paying too much attention to Devon, I'd lost focus on a more dangerous opponent.

"Game over," he whispered

"Game over," the young man whispered ignorantly, as usual.

Desperate. Resigned. Shivering.

I should have closed my eyes then and accepted death quietly.

But fear manifested like imaginary shackles that wrapped my whole body tightly, preventing even the most trivial of movements.

That's when things got weird.

I often mentioned that Arsenault's actions were like those of a demented demon-not just fast, but very, very fast.

When I saw him moving normally, the world felt like a universe made by lorises.

The air became a dense blob of clear mist that struggled, dust flew slowly here and there like dying flies, and I even had trouble taking a breath.

What was this?

A vision before death?

It didn't stop there. The world was getting slower and slower.

Even Arsenault's movements became like a slow-motion replay of a football match-which was so slow, I knew where it was going and how to avoid it.

So that's what I did.

Move as swiftly as a cat, save myself.

The atmosphere then normalised.

Arsenault frowned.

I was just as confused.

"How ...."

You ask me, I don't know the answer either, damn it.

Arsenault reassumed her alert position, stepped up, and went into action again.

Again, I didn't have a chance to close my eyes.

The world turned into slowmotion again.

Wait. Wait a minute.

This... is this my ability?

Being able to see a series of movements in super slow motion?

Hah!

Haha!

Haha!

Hahahahaha!

If that was how it worked, then I had found the ultimate formula to win, even if I did it alone.

Instead of continuing to dodge, I chose to move forward, away from the Arsenault's attack area, clenched my fist, and delivered a friendly blow to the cheek of that damn bloke... his intentions.

Just when my arm was halfway up, things went back to normal.

Eh?

What the hell?

My fist failed.

Arsenault's leg that was aiming like a horizontal slash did slip a bit from the original target, but most of it hit.

Not bad.

My waist was now the target.

Again, I heard a heartbreaking crunch and the next thing I knew I was rolling all the way to the edge of the arena.

I tried to get up, but kept limping and fell miserably.

What was this again?

Why am I so tired?

Yes... I'd been moving around a bit and getting hit here and there, but it felt normal-even light as air.

Was it because of the adrenaline? And then the effect wore off?

Arsenault had an astonished look for a moment. But then she smiled with satisfaction.

His feet stepped here slowly, stopped, then widened his grin. "Well, Miss Dawver. You can say the magic word now."

Then, the land was in turmoil.

When I say the world is in turmoil, I don't mean metaphorically or that I'm trying to wax poetic about something-listen, I'm not one to beat around the bush.

But, it's really happening. Literally.

The arena shook. Once. Twice.

Earthquakes? Do they exist in this world?

Arsenault's attack was cancelled and his balance was upset.

When he collapsed and I thought I was really going to die this time, a gigantic shadow resembling... legs appeared?

Tiered. Clumsy.

I looked up, finding its owner staring back with a battered and tired face.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "Dimitri?"

The girl manifested abnormally not far ahead-her legs were almost two metres tall while the rest of her limbs looked as thin as sticks.

My mind was infiltrated with a strange mix of relief and apprehension.

Dimitri walked in the opposite direction with wide, awkward steps. Towards Devon.

Devon scurried to the side, out of reach of Dimitri's now destructive footsteps.

I looked at him stunned, confused, and then I giggled.

That pretentious bloke looked like a scared rat now instead of a prince.

Devon picked up the three torches displayed along the rink, put them together while running, then formed a sort of round shield with a thickness like real steel.

Arsenault-beyond my expectations-stood up and approached his partner cautiously. His movements were not as swift as before.

It seemed like she was afraid of tripping-after all, no matter how fast you are, even if you're running on uncertain terrain, the potential for falling is greater and more painful.

Well. I felt that victory was not just an empty wish.

So I got back up, valiant and full of optimism, intending to get away as soon as possible so that I wouldn't get stepped on.

But, this damn body kept falling.

My whole body was throbbing.

My stamina-strangely enough-was drained in an instant because of what happened just now.

Not to mention, the surface kept shaking. Again, I could only swear and watch the two opponents who were fighting a foolish battle.

Devon picks up anything he can hold-sand, rocks, wood chips. Putting them together in one hand, he creates a variety of objects. Then he throws them up.

They never hit. Or actually hit, but had no effect.

Meanwhile Arsenault crouched down, staring upwards, trying to keep his feet on the ground. Silence.

What the hell was he doing?

It was the same behaviour as earlier when Dimitri's defence was breached.

If he was waiting for the Devon to launch a follow-up attack and when Dimitri gave an opening, what was he waiting for this time?

Arsenault's position was already in Dimitri's blind spot-behind him-while Devon was too struggling to even establish effective communication with each other.

Or maybe it wasn't because of those two?

After all, why would he need a follow-up attack if he could land three in the blink of an eye?

It was a different story if Arsenault couldn't do it.

For some reason.

A fatal reason.

I flashed a smile while trying to get back up.

You bastard.

Still can't.

My body was so heavy that it felt like it was weighed down by hundreds of kilos.

Since there was no more time and this opportunity could also be lost in an instant, I put all my energy into it.

And so, with unbroken strength of will and hope, I managed to get up gallantly, shouting a spirit of victory... hopefully, that is.

But, in the end, all I could do was crawl hobbling towards the end of the arena just a foot away, trying to reach the torch.

Got it!

Got it!

When I turned around happily, I found that Dimitri had gone berserk and swept the area around Devon with his mega-large feet.

Devon had no more room to run. Because of that, he preferred to face and protect himself with the shield he had made earlier.

At the same time, Arsenault started running. Hurry. Agile. Again, his form melted into blurred shadows so fast, suddenly he was already on top, face to face with Dimitri's small and increasingly weak body parts.

Shit!

I must hurry!

I can't crawl anymore!

Thus, I tried the umpteenth time to get back up.

It felt half-crazy. It was like a combination of pain, aches, and overwhelming despair.

I ignored my pores that felt like they were on fire.

Arsenault had already landed a foot on Dimitri's cheek in one precise kick.

Dimitri bounced, away. His giant feet returned to their original state as he landed unevenly on the sandy ground.

Arsenault landed slowly.

Catching his breath.

Waiting.

Smiling.

Just as I expected.

"If you can smile like that, I think you're really optimistic that you can win," I called from behind.

Arsenault gasped.

He turned his head, turned around, and was about to argue.

But she couldn't. He wouldn't be able to.

Here's the thing. After doing those genius observations and analyses, I got a smart conclusion about

Arsenault's weakness.

His movements are indeed very, very fast.

But, of course, that has a limit.

In her case, it's distance and direction.

On some occasions, it seemed vague, but there were times when Arsenault flinched for a while.

I don't know if she was gathering some kind of mana points or even resting, but that was her biggest weakness.

The duration of her flinching depends on the shortcut Arsenault moves on.

And, so far, the longest and most visible time was when she moved upwards.

"Now, the game is over!"

BUGH!

That was a powerful punch.

It brutally struck Arsenault in the face and caused a kind of heartbreaking grunt.

He lost just like that even without my Super Sight-Yes, I know, the name is not very creative, but this is temporary, now my head is too dizzy to hold ideas.

This feels easier than I thought it would be.

Arsenault collapsed with a bloody face.

Okay.

I admit that was a bit too much.

But, it was also fun to see his horrified face earlier when I put on a winning smile.

Well, one down!

I looked up at Devon.

He looked even more pathetic than the last time I saw him.

He was sitting in a corner hugging his shield. His long hair fluttered irregularly. His clothes were in tatters.

Come to think of it, this Devon guy didn't give off the aura of royalty at all.

I got closer and closer.

Mouth agape and a half-broken wooden torch in hand. Preparing to launch the final attack. Preparing to welcome victory.

"FEEL!" I cried out vengefully.

Even Devon could only surrender and duck.

Oh, calm down. That didn't deter me even for a second.

I raised the wood to the top of my head and prepared to drive it downwards with full force.

In the next instant, the world turned pitch black.

(SELESAI)

The good news? I'm still alive.

The bad news? I was still alive.

Apparently even losing consciousness didn't make me 'wake up' to the real world.

What kind of dream is this? It's really long.

Or am I now in a coma or critical condition?

Or am I really dead?

"Eh! Aw! Aw!" I winced as a rough patch washed the place where the bruise and swelling used to be. "Can you slow down?"

It really hurts, devil.

The waiter hurriedly apologised with teary eyes, even though the last time I remembered he was a man.

"Ma-sorry, Miss. I-"

"Tsk! Already, ah. There."

"But-"

I gave the whiny boy a sharp look. It seems to have succeeded in discouraging him, as he immediately stood up, said goodbye, and walked away.

Hufftt!

That's good, that's good.

I was in a bad mood seeing incompetent people, useless people, or other types of people.

I picked up an apple beside the bed and looked up.

After fainting miserably and receiving a near-death verdict, I was taken straight home, intensively treated.

With magical culture, even a broken bone can be healed in the blink of an eye in this world.

So, yes, it was no surprise when I woke up to find myself as fit as an athlete about to compete.

Speaking of matches, I heard that my fight ended in a draw because of my condition, which wasn't possible from the start.

Yikes!

What the hell was that?

I don't need pity, damn it.

Anyway, given the choice, I'd rather possess Irene's body-with a nice body, obedient sycophants, clear and understandable powers, a guaranteed future.

Anyway, just watch out for those two bastards.

Devon the Wall Face and Arsen-whatever that is.

If you meet again, I'll reward you many times over. Oh, the sight of their bloody faces won't be enough.

I'll wipe that crazy dog-like grin off his face. Let me make him feel a torment more painful than death. Let me make him cry like a helpless baby.

Just remember!

"Sis! Can I come in?"

My enquiry seemed useless because Lucian had already opened the door and put on a smile that - until now, I thought - was disturbing.  "I just heard a report that you refused to be ointed, bandaged, and washed?"

Tsk! Damn snitch! "It doesn't work right." I tried to reply as gently as possible, but my best efforts only resulted in a sarcastic tone.

Why, after all, did magic healing have to go through conventional treatments too?

"Hush... you can't do that, okay? She just seems to be lacking rest. Don't rough her up. Right now, it's quite difficult to find a servant who is loyal and generous enough to work for us."

Hold on.

Huh?

"I've made you a concoction of pain relief and energy boost. Just drink it straight away. So you can get back to your normal activities quickly. Okay?" Lucian handed me two opaque glass bottles of two different colours.

I looked at them ruefully.

I've always hated medicine.

But, unfortunately, in this world, nothing is perfect either.

What?

You expect magic to be a flawless, super-practical systematic?  Die for the freebies, damn it.

It all comes at a price.

Super-fast healing is just reconstructing and patching broken muscles, bones, or joints.

That's by consuming some kind of obscure internal energy that I'm sure can't be scientifically proven called Spiritual Intensity.

It's a kind of magical energy that indicates how much magical capacity and potential a person has. In short, another term for mana points in the game.

It was said that if Spiritual Intensity ran out, one could still use magic, but in exchange, stamina would be siphoned off. And the usage was twice as much as when doing general things.

The problem was... this flabby body apparently only had the Spiritual Intensity supply of a five-year-old.

That's why, after using magic three times in the previous battle, my energy was immediately depleted like I had just travelled around the Senayan field without pause.

"I'll leave you to it then, sis." Lucian smiled and stroked my hair.

I brushed it away spontaneously. I've always hated being petted, especially with one-sided or fake affection-or even sincere ones. "I-I want to rest," I said hurriedly. I recalled how impossible it was to do whatever I wanted now.

Fortunately, Lucian just frowned and smiled. "But remember, don't forget to get ready for tonight."

"What's going on tonight?"

Lucian sighed. At that moment, I realised that his figure towered over me and was more well-groomed than usual.

A white linen shirt with a maroon bow tie, a grey four-button vest and matching loose-fitting thigh-high silk trousers, and black boots with thin, low soles.

Is there a celebration tonight?

A party?

Wait, 'that' party?

This early?

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You forgot, Sis?"

The Lucian even developed a grin when my look turned more curious.

"Father will be home tonight."