I opened my eyes.

I had a feeling that it was about time for my turn, and when I opened my eyes to check, as I thought the previous match seemed like it was about to end.

One of the men collapsed, and the referee shouted out the name of the winner.

&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;though there wasn"t any audience, so there weren"t any cheers, the winner stood triumphantly.

As I observed the scene, my name, as well as the name of my opponent, were called out. I entered the arena.

Standing before my eyes was a large man.

On top of having muscles forged out of training that gave off an overwhelming presence, he was a big man that was one or two times my size.

I drew out my practice blade, a sword with a dulled edge.

Though his opponent was a young girl like myself, my opponent showed no signs of making light of me and similarly drew his sword.

&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;as an opponent, he wasn"t lacking at all.

Together with the referee"s voice commencing the match, I began to move.

In power, I was overwhelmingly disadvantaged.

It was clear just by looking at us.

In other words, if I were to take his sword head-on, I"d instantly be sent flying.

However, even if I simply let that fact intimidate me, I wouldn"t be able to do anything about it.

In any case, up until now I had continued training with my father, whose power far surpa.s.sed my own.

I had long learned that it was impossible for a girl like me to challenge a man through raw strength.

That being the case, what should I do?

&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;fight them with speed.

That too, was one way of dealing with it.

However, I used a different method.

As my opponent swung his sword downwards, I took up a stance as though I were going to receive his sword.

For a moment, a rather surprised expression crossed my opponent"s face, but it soon disappeared as he used all his strength to swing his sword.

Without a single sign of going easy on me, it was a swift and heavy sword.

I brought my sword forward, and with good timing, swung it.

&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;in order to redirect my opponent"s power.

"Uwah&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;!"

As his sword flowed against mine, my opponent"s stance collapsed. Entering his bosom, I swung my sword to beat him down.

And then, I placed my sword on my opponent"s neck as he lay face-down upon the ground.

"&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;that"s it! The winner, Melly!!"

Together with the referee"s voice, I sheathed my sword.

Since mother pa.s.sed away, it has already been 3 years.

Whether it has pa.s.sed quickly or not, I don"t know.

But every day, I have been polishing my sword like this.