A rookie who'd only just started on the basics of swordplay up against a battle-hardened Level 2 who fought in the Dungeon all the time—one look at the opening exchanges and the result was obvious.
In speed and power, Mikoto outclassed Keyaru across the board. All he could do was turtle behind his wooden practice sword.
Grinding the fundamentals into muscle memory paid the most direct dividend: when her blade whipped in from the side, his body moved on instinct, lifting his sword to block.
"Clack!"
The gap between adventurer Levels might as well have been a canyon. The jolt that ran through the hilt into both hands left the web between his thumb and forefinger numb. He knew brute force wouldn't beat Mikoto.
He didn't try to lock blades. Slipping back to open space and hunt for an opening—he was met instead by a sudden storm of blows.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
Her strikes were so sharp he could barely catch the afterimages. Instinctive guard work wasn't enough—he fended off some, and the rest…
As expected, they landed—on his arms, waist, legs, all non-vitals. A surge of adrenaline blunted the pain. Staring at Mikoto's placid, unreadable face, he gritted his teeth, set both hands on the wooden sword, and launched an attack of his own.
"I don't buy that…"
—
"Lord Takemikazuchi, is there really any point to this?" From the sidelines, Kashima Ouka saw a one-sided beatdown—Mikoto rolling him. If anything, she was pulling her punches compared to usual training. A waste of time, he thought. Why had their god agreed to "hone" this kid?
Chigusa stood beside him, saying nothing. Takemikazuchi, though, was watching with interest. Mikoto looked normal—if anything, restrained. Nothing to critique there. What surprised him was Keyaru's command of the basics—already very fluent. He had no fight plan, but he was still parrying on muscle instinct alone. Given how long he'd trained…
Even if he wasn't a "genius," the kid had clearly put in the work. Takemikazuchi turned to Ouka with a teasing smile.
"Sure, it's one-sided. But if Keyaru only learned the basics last night… would you still say that?"
"…"
Last night? Ouka's eyes flashed disbelief—Takemikazuchi wouldn't lie. He looked back at the spar, letting the scorn drain away.
"If… that's true, then his talent for the blade is… very good."
"Don't let 'talent' erase the effort he's put in. That wouldn't be fair to him," Takemikazuchi said, not the least disappointed. Hestia really had found a good one. At this pace, he'd be sparring Mikoto as an equal soon enough.
"The next few days, help him polish his technique—both of you, Ouka, Chigusa."
With that, the lopsided bout wrapped up. Under sustained pressure, Keyaru blocked half the strikes and never backed down, still hunting for a chance to hit back. Talent aside, that grit alone moved the god of war. To say he had no other thoughts would be a lie—Hestia was lucky. When would he find a seedling this promising?
After the match, Mikoto looked at the brown-haired boy—both hands still on his sword, a bit battered—and felt conflicted. She had no urge to mock him.
"You really don't look like someone who only just started the basics," she said. "I've been an adventurer longer. I've got you beat in speed, strength, and experience. But you blocked most of it—and even looked for counters…"
"Then I'm weak," Keyaru panted. "So I'll train more."
As the adrenaline drained away, pain flooded his limbs. He frowned, but his grin was bright.
"You can't bridge a Level gap with technique alone. If this were a real fight… I probably wouldn't still be standing here." He dipped his head. "Thanks, all the same."
His straightforward attitude stirred something in her. There was still time before Dungeon day. She glanced at Takemikazuchi; at his nod she said, "If you need more sparring, come find me. But whatever you do, don't wreck your body."
If it weren't so public here, Keyaru would have just hit himself with Heal, clear the damage, and challenge her again—but you don't hog people's free time. What he wanted most now was to get back to the Familia base, digest the fight, and plug the gaps.
He turned to Takemikazuchi, sincere. "Thank you for helping me sharpen my live-combat skills."
"It was nothing," the god said with a shake of the head, though worry flickered in his eyes. "Shall I have Ouka see you back?"
"No need." Keyaru looked to Mikoto. "Miss Mikoto, would you be free tomorrow to help me train technique again?"
"No problem." She wanted to ask if his body could take it—but that felt a bit too familiar, and the words stuck. She watched his back recede, emotions mixed. If she pushed herself as hard as he did, would her strength climb faster?
Catching her god's look, she gathered herself.
"Lord Takemikazuchi, I kept my power in check, but it looks like he still got hurt."
Knowing his child's concern, Takemikazuchi waved it off. "His goddess… won't mind. From what you saw, what do you make of him?"
"I… don't know." She shook her head. She didn't have his long view, couldn't pick out anything "special" from a single spar. If anything stood out, it was this: even injured, he kept trying to hit back. After a beat, she admitted honestly,
"In a real exchange… he feels like someone who fights all-out."