I Said Make My Abilities Average!

Now, evening dress mask......, set it up from the mile side. It is a fast fight.

A simulated sword that instantly packs an intermission and is quickly tapped into the opponent's left flank. And the Earl who takes it with his own sword and bounces it back, trying to pull it up. Miles swinging that sword up with slaughter as it is.

After that, a fierce sword trident ensued.

But instead of a messy meeting around running and moving like the battle with Glenn, the Count chose only a grand head-on battle as a knight, so Miles was also in the shape to go along with it.

Intense meetings without moving too much and staying in one place. That seemed unfavourable to hunters trying to manoeuvre, but it had nothing to do with miles. Originally, the swordsmanship as a hunter was also crude, because it did not differ greatly in any way. Speed and force. The handle of the mile was just that.

The Count was beginning to feel more anxious about the extended meeting.

That was because the opponent's technology was very poor.

Whoever wears some sword moves can't beat a very good swordsman first. It is not something that can be beaten that way, such as by technology, by speed, by judgment, and by someone who reads out his or her hands.

But amateurs make unexpected moves. A judgment that cannot be common sense, a sword muscle that you cannot possibly choose if you are sane. The odds of winning are low because they are inferior in technology and speed, but still, there is always a chance of an unexpected blow, making them an unreadable opponent for veterans.

That's what this opponent waves his amateur sword at, speed and power above the skilled.

It was dangerous. He was a very dangerous opponent.

A powerful, high-speed serial strike with no movement to read, where a moment of alarm can be fatal. We had to continue to concentrate all our spiritual strength, which forced the Count to drain to an unusual extent.

If it's normal, dangerous amateurs just eat a blow and finish it. That doesn't matter how much you attack. Avoidable, Accepted, or Taunted. And with the motion that follows, the counterattack comes. It's not that I can't hold this one either, but the battle goes on forever, and I can't see the end. The Count was increasingly tired and in a hurry.

(As it is, as a mutual..., no, really?

This woman, is this really the best you can do?

If it's that speed of reaction that flattens this attack, can you fight back faster?

Moreover, there are no shards in the appearance of fatigue or impatience.

Right, no way, no way, I'm being played......, stupid, that can't be happening!

Hurray and fatigue create disturbances in the sword, and create gaps.

[incomprehensible]

"Ugh..."

He was struck close to the root of the blade, and the Count, who had removed his sword, was dismayed.

I wasn't bounced off. Until then, he was struck with a blow of speed and weight that drew a line, and he dropped his sword. It was dropped.

A cheer that just cracks, springs from the crowd.

As a knight, what a loser. What a humiliation.

I can't stop the red tide on my face and the tremors on my arms.

"Please pick it up quickly"

"Nah..."

Just give him a victory and declare victory...

I have enough to make a fool of myself.

If it's normal, don't be ridiculous. I almost kick a mock sword and walk away, but this time I didn't go for it.

This battle depends on the lives of our precious daughter. We can't keep dangerous hunter operations like this. Absolutely.

I do not doubt my son's victory, but even a thousandth or a thousandth cannot pass up the possibility of endangering his daughter's life. No matter how much shame you expose and look ugly in front of your men and the people, you are not going to abandon the battle as long as there is a slight chance of victory left.

And the Earl picked up the sword, and erected it again.

And half an hour later.

There was the appearance of the Earl of Austin on both hands and knees on the ground.

It was already the limit. There was no power left to stand up or even grip the sword.

Complete defeat. There were no other words to describe it.

"My win, so you're glad?

The Earl nodded silently at the words of Miles' confirmation.

And a great deal of applause and cheer arose for the miles back to the waiting area and for the Count, who borrowed his shoulders from his flying subordinates to return to the waiting area on the other side.

No one laughs at the Count.

The Count was strong. B-rank around it, no, it was the skill of whether even A-rank hunters could win. I just wasn't good with them. That is all.

In the applause of being spared, but the Count's face was distorted.

There is no anger or hatred toward the opponent. Conversely, I was more than willing to praise that strength in that physique. That strength, on a technical level that probably only seemed to have received decent instruction for a time. self-taught, that effort that would have just continued to self-train. Exactly, praiseworthy.

The Count's anger was against his impudence, as well as his self-loathing for his inability to ensure the safety of his daughter with his own hands.

The Earl, finally returning to the waiting area about it, told his trusted son.

"... definitely win. Never be alarmed."

"... Yes!

And Count Austin's eldest son, Waylon von Austin.

For my beloved sister, I turn my heart into a ghost and head to fight that sister herself.

Wayln regretted it.

Mavis, the daughter who was finally born into the Austin family after three boys went on.

My parents and grandparents drowned, but the three brothers were also a drowning gesture circled to it.

As a princess of the Austin family, Mavis, raised without any difficulty, saw all three brothers training their swords and said they wanted to do it too.

I don't like being out of company with just one person, I thought, and I let him practice all the shapes, unexpectedly. He was quite talented in continuing to be seriously gutsy, three brothers, surprised. And since it's tough for a pretty sister to get attacked by a man, she gave him guidance sometimes during his brother's workouts that he should be allowed to have the necessary protective abilities. And there was no way that Wayln could chase back Mavis, who came when he was alone and said, "Brother, I want to train with you," and he trained a lot on his own with all the privileges of his eldest son.... It was long after Mavis found out that he was also going to his younger brothers and doing three times as much training as he thought he would.

And that coveted face that stares at himself and his younger brothers' knight ordination ceremony as it sparkled his eyes multiplied the joy of being a knight. Because I thought that admiration was directed at us who became knights.

Who would think that that admiration is for the very profession of 'knight' and, furthermore, that I dream of becoming a knight, etc.?

... failed. Had I realized that sooner, I might have made Mavis turn his interests to something else, or at least stopped him from running away. It is a great failure.

But this time it won't fail.

Be sure to take Mavis home. In the name of Austin's eldest son.

"May I borrow your breasts, brother?"

Brothers and sisters facing each other in the center of the arena.

"Eight months, I guess, making arrangements...

But I can't give him a break today. Be careful not to get hurt, but it may hurt a little. You've done it. Be patient. "

Dear older brother, Mavis laughs bitterly at Waylon's words.

"My older brother, I, too, am not a child forever. Mavis, leader of the C-rank hunter" Red Oath ". That power, and especially look at it!

With that said, Mavis pulls out a simulated sword together. Weirn also goes on to pull out the sword.

"" Buzz, battle!