Chapter 14: This Match Is Too Fake

Beat them senseless, huh?

The problem was, facing the other four candidates, Rita had no clue who the connected ones were or who she should target.

The exam venue was set in the military camp, a vast oval arena roughly the size of a 400-meter running track.

The edges were bare, marked only by a painted line. Crossing it meant elimination, but the space was large enough for a real fight.

Three examiners sat on a high platform usually used for commanding drills, with a clear view of the arena.

“I’ll repeat: surrendering, leaving the arena, or losing consciousness ends the match. Causing severe injury or death may disqualify you, depending on the circumstances. This round is only part of your score—losing doesn’t mean everything, so don’t fight to the death.”

The announcer’s voice echoed above the arena.

“You have one minute to enter and choose your position. No magic or attacks are allowed during this time. The exam begins after one minute.”

Positioning, observing opponents, and preparing were all part of the assessment from the moment candidates entered.

Rita had watched earlier matches. Most candidates spread out to observe each other.

For now, she’d wait.

With that, Rita drew her sword, holding it loosely.

Lord Angus frowned, leaning toward Cecilia in the center, lowering his voice. “Look at this candidate, Rita, and her sword stance. No formal training, no combat experience—just full of flaws.”

“Flaws don’t determine outcomes. Let’s see how this plays out,” Cecilia replied calmly, though her fist clenched in her sleeve.

“Tch.”

A young man some distance from Rita let out a scoff.

The other three glanced at her, smirking with schadenfreude.

She could barely hold a sword—easy prey.

She didn’t look like some rich heiress. How’d she get a permit?

Oh! Got it! She’s here to throw the match for me! A few fake swings, then let me win, right?

Guys, money really works. Easy points!

“Fifth match! Begin!”

At the announcer’s call, the four candidates charged at Rita with swords raised, startling her.

Wasn’t the norm pair-offs or a free-for-all? Why were they all coming for her?

Did she look that strong?

Well, she was pretty strong.

Their moves looked polished, but if Rita ditched her sword, she could take all four—forty, even.

Problem one: she didn’t know swordplay. Problem two: she couldn’t show her succubus strength.

So, what now?

Run!

Rita bolted, the four hot on her heels, faintly forming a pincer formation.

Using her agility, Rita dodged left and right, circling the arena three full times before they cornered her at the edge.

“Wait!” Rita, back to the boundary, raised a hand to stop them. “Why are you all chasing me? Why not fight each other?”

“Hah… ha…” A young man panted. “Fight them? No way! It’s you and me!”

“Yeah, yeah! You’re the target! Come on, fight!” A girl, leaning on her sword, caught her breath before standing straight.

“Hey, hold up, brothers. Isn’t she my mark? Why are you butting in? Not cool!” A third, eyebrow raised, couldn’t stand straight, hands on knees.

The last one frowned. “Wait, why’s she yours? I paid… cough, I saw her first.”

What? A whole match where four people fall for me? As if!

“Wait, brother, you too?” One stepped closer, slyly mimicking a bribe gesture.

“What else?” another shot back.

“How’d we end up in the same group?” the girl shrieked.

“Then what about her? Whose backup is she?” The last pointed at Rita.

Four pairs of eyes locked onto her.

Why me?

Rita realized they all thought she was the hired help.

So, all four were connected! Cecilia’s grouping was wicked! No wonder she said to beat them senseless.

Rita’s eyes darted, an idea forming. “Ahem, look, I don’t know what’s going on. How about you guys sort it out?”

“Sort what?” the young man asked, frowning.

Rita grinned, sheathing her sword. “Sort out who fights me. Standing around won’t help. We don’t fight, the next group will. Right?”

Her words basically admitted she was the throwaway.

“Makes sense. Standing here gets us low points. We need a winner.”

“Right, maybe there were too many people this year, so we got grouped together.”

“Yeah, we all paid. What’s to fear?”

Wow, Cecilia’s grouping, and they’re justifying it. Nice, very nice.

Rita glanced at their position near the edge and decided to stoke the fire. “How about this: rock-paper-scissors. Winner fights me first, losers accept it and perform well. Sound good?”

“Yep.”

“Agreed.”

Rita stepped aside, watching the four sheath their swords, form a circle, and raise their fists.

“Rock, paper…”

Before the last word, Rita kicked one in the rear.

He stumbled, stepping over the line.

The announcer’s voice rang out. “Fordin, eliminated!”

“What are you waiting for? Kick him!” Rita shouted, kicking another’s shin, winking at the girl.

The girl hesitated, then got it, shoving the unprepared young man out.

“Reno, William, eliminated!”

“Take this!” Rita roared, drawing her sword with an exaggerated swing at the girl, deliberately slow.

The girl caught on, parrying with a clang, locking their blades.

Feeling Rita’s staged swing, the girl’s lips curled.

Amazing! I get it now!

No wonder it’s just us two women—she’s my plant!

Her mother had paid a fortune for her exam, and it was worth every coin.

“Do as I say,” Rita growled, pressing her sword down with minimal force. “I’ll push you to the edge, then…”

“Then?” The girl, play-acting her defense, retreated, listening intently. “Then we swap, and I knock you out?”

Rita flashed a sunny smile, then kicked her in the stomach.

“Then you’re out!”