We finally made it to the site where the commotion was erupting.
What we found wasn't a battlefield.
It was a massacre in the making.
The village was under siege by bandits. Fires crackled in the distance, smoke curling into the dusky sky. Some villagers were desperately trying to fend off the attackers, wielding farming tools and rusted blades, their hands trembling and faces pale with fear. Their swings were wild, untrained, and born more of desperation than skill.
But the bandits… they moved with practiced ease, their strikes efficient and brutal. They were hardened men with the glint of bloodlust in their eyes.
The villagers were being driven back step by step, inch by inch.
My hand instinctively went to the hilt of the sword strapped at my side—the one my father had entrusted to me before I'd set off on this journey.
The truth was, I wasn't ready for this. Not yet. My hands weren't calloused from battle. My eyes hadn't seen death up close. I doubted I could even hold my ground, let alone save anyone.
I turned my gaze to the goddess standing beside me, hoping for a miracle.
"You don't have to worry," she said calmly. "I remember granting the Master Swordsman's Blessing to someone from this village. So even if we don't step in, that person will come… and—oh! There she is."
I followed her line of sight.
A figure was sprinting toward the village from the ridge—her silhouette backlit by the dying sun. She moved fast, determined—and eye-catchingly… bouncy.
Her breasts were bouncing wildly with every step, straining against the fabric of her clothes like they were going to burst free at any moment.
She had a sword sheathed at her side, swinging slightly with her motion, and yet all I could focus on was the rhythmic, almost hypnotic jiggle that accompanied her charge.
"That's the one you gave the Master Swordsman's Blessing to?" I asked, half in disbelief, half in awe.
"Yes," the goddess said brightly, her expression lighting up with excitement. "She's the one."
I had no choice but to trust her word. But… seriously? That girl? With those proportions? Could she really be the Master Swordsman?
A high-pitched voice rang out across the battlefield.
"Heeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Stop right there!!"
The woman skid to a dramatic halt, dirt scattering at her feet—but her breasts didn't get the memo and kept bouncing for another moment before settling back into place. They were huge—absurdly so—and were clearly stretching her top to its limits.
She reached down and drew her sword in a swift, fluid motion, then slid into a fighting stance. The sharpness in her posture clashed with her bubbly appearance, and yet… her form was undeniably solid.
I had to admit—her stance looked good. Confident. Balanced. But again, that was just my perspective as someone still learning. I wasn't exactly a master swordsman myself.
"I am the protector of this village, and I bear the Master Swordsman's Blessing!" she declared. "Anyone who tries to bring harm here will be swiftly dealt with—by me!"
The bandits paused, exchanged glances, and then began to laugh.
They didn't believe her. Hell, I wasn't sure I believed her. She didn't look the part. Not at all. She looked more like some wandering tavern beauty than someone capable of wielding that kind of power. Her body was too curvy, too soft-looking… too distracting. Too... busty.
Still, the bandits began to circle her, slowly drawing in like vultures around fresh meat.
"You're seriously hot," one of them sneered, eyeing her like a prize. "My friends and I were looking for some fun tonight, and I think you'd do just fine."
The others chuckled darkly, some licking their lips, their weapons now held lazily—less like they were preparing to fight and more like they were about to claim her.
"With a body like that," another one added, "you'd fetch a nice price in the slave markets. I bet you could entertain all of us at once. And you'd probably enjoy it too."
It was clear from the way the bandits smirked and sneered that they were sizing her up—not just as an opponent, but as prey. Their eyes glinted with twisted amusement, as if they'd already decided she was no threat at all.
"I will defeat all of you!" the woman declared.
She raised her sword above her head in what was clearly meant to be a heroic pose.
Despite everything, for a fleeting second, she looked almost majestic. Her long hair fluttered behind her with the breeze, catching the orange glow of the burning rooftops nearby. The glint of her blade reflected the light in a dazzling flash, and the determination in her eyes could've fooled anyone—anyone who hadn't been here from the start, at least.
Then, with an almost exaggerated motion, she stomped her foot down onto the ground and launched forward.
Or rather… she tried to.
Her boot snagged on the uneven dirt path and she pitched forward, arms flailing wildly. Time seemed to slow as her body tipped off balance. Her face, full of fire and pride just moments ago, was now twisted in panic.
Smack!
She face-planted directly into the dirt. The sound was a dull thud followed by a soft puff of dust. Her sword flew from her hand and clattered to the ground a few feet away with a sad, metallic ring, like a dropped utensil in a quiet kitchen.
Beside me, I slowly turned to look at the goddess. She, in turn, very quickly turned her head in the opposite direction.
"This… this is the person you gave the Master Swordsman's Blessing to?" I asked, incredulous. My voice came out flat, drained of emotion from the sheer absurdity of it.
She didn't even look like someone who had held a sword for more than a few hours.
"Are you absolutely sure she even met the prerequisites to get that blessing, you stupid goddess?" I pressed, but she said nothing.
Her silence was louder than any excuse she could've offered.
The bandits, meanwhile, erupted into laughter. They weren't just amused—they were dying. One of them doubled over, wheezing. Another pointed at her and let out a long, mocking howl.
It was kind of hilarious. This woman had made such an entrance—so full of flair and confidence—and now she lay face-down in the dirt, her sword nowhere near her, looking like a child who had tripped on their first run.
"You're the one carrying the Master Swordsman's Blessing?" one of the bandits called out between snorts of laughter. "You expect us to believe that? Please. You're just bluffing, trying to scare us off. But sorry—we're not that dumb."
Too bad for them, she actually wasn't bluffing.
The blessing was real.
Unfortunately, the goddess had given it to someone who was, by all appearances, a complete klutz. It was starting to feel like the divine selection process involved throwing darts at a list of names blindfolded.
"Owie~..." the girl whimpered, lifting her head with a wince. A large scratch stretched diagonally across her forehead, red and raw against her pale skin.
"Ah!" she gasped suddenly.
In a flash, she sprang to her feet—faster than I would've thought possible. She leapt backward in a series of quick, fluid motions that almost looked accidental in their grace.
Her reactions were sharp, almost too sharp. The difference was striking. One moment, she was flailing and falling, and the next, she was flipping through the air like a trained acrobat. Her figure twisted with agility, and her movements—even if a little uncoordinated—had a sudden, unpredictable rhythm to them.
Also...
With every flip and spin, her chest bounced wildly, struggling to stay restrained in her top. It was like watching two unpredictable forces of nature moving in opposition with each jump she made.
She landed. Well, almost.
Her foot slipped ever so slightly, and for a terrifying second, I thought she might collapse again. But she twisted her hips and steadied herself just in time, her legs wobbling before locking into place. Her balance, while far from perfect, had clearly improved.
Maybe she was clumsy. But it was clear now that the blessing had enhanced her reflexes and coordination, just not enough to completely counteract her natural lack of grace.
She reached out, grabbed her sword from the ground, and turned back toward the enemy. Her voice wavered with emotion, but she still stood firm.
"T-That's not going to fly!" she cried out, pointing her blade toward the bandits. "I won't let anyone have my body! It belongs to my boyfriend! Who I haven't found yet!"
A beat of stunned silence passed.
And then one of the bandits exploded into laughter. "Hah! Lucky for you, I volunteer!" he said with a wild grin. "With a body like yours, I'll be more than happy to be your boyfriend—and I'll keep you company all night long!"
Her response was immediate and savage.
"You're not my type! You're ugly!"
I practically heard a vein burst on the guy's forehead.
His smirk vanished, replaced by a furious glare.
"Alright, enough of this damn charade!" he growled, teeth clenched. "Get her!"
At once, the bandits surged forward like a pack of wolves, weapons drawn, charging toward the girl.