The entire arena froze solid.
Astonishment exploded in an instant, leaving no one able to draw a proper breath.
And it was no wonder.
Just a month ago, she had been on the brink of death, deemed worthless in her pitiful state, and casually "tossed" to them as a bastard's birthday gift—a beastkin slave.
A tiny fox beastkin whom none of the heirs had even bothered to glance at, recorded as refuse among refuse.
Yet now...
Mana swirled like a vortex over the child's small palm—
Plop.
A crystal of light gathered, forming a "shield" that even the child could easily wield, materializing into reality.
A weapon had been created from empty air.
The moment that impossible sight unfolded, everyone in the arena was left dumbfounded.
The servants swallowed hard, and even Wolfram, who had once dismissed her with a casual "just throw her away," sat frozen in place with eyes wide open.
"That's... weapon summoning? She created a weapon with her own mana? And by a beastkin child who hasn't even fully grown?"
Of course, for a beastkin born with Creation-type mana, conjuring a single weapon wasn't entirely impossible.
Creation-type was inherently specialized in "making" things.
Equipment with complex internal structures might be difficult, but simple shapes like shields or swords could be materialized the instant an image formed in the mind—that was the hallmark of this mana type.
But the problem was time and age.
Piel had been given just one month.
And that was for a young beastkin child whose body hadn't even fully recovered from nearly dying.
Normally, it took people anywhere from one to three years to grasp their mana affinity and manifest it outwardly in a "form."
Yet Piel had awakened her mana mere weeks ago and now casually "created" a shield?
It made no sense.
"Come to think of it... when she first appeared before us, not only was her body a wreck, but her ears and eyes were missing too. How did she even fix all that so perfectly?"
Seratina drew in a thin breath at those words.
"Brother. That's not all."
Wolfram narrowed his eyes for a moment, sensing he'd just made a grave mistake.
An intuition that, in ignoring Lucas all this time, he might have overlooked something far greater than he'd imagined.
At that moment—
The trumpet signaling the start of the Proxy Blood Fate blared.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Seratina had already concentrated her mana in her eyes, scrutinizing Piel's shield in detail.
She swallowed and spoke.
"...That shield isn't just created. Look closely—it's imbued with traits."
"What?!"
Boom!
The arena flipped upside down the instant the match began.
The Black Iron Knight Garin swung down his first strike like a guillotine meant to end it all, cleaving the ground.
"Kyaaak?! Garin! What are you doing?! I told you not to break her!"
Syl's scream erupted from behind, but the result was already before their eyes.
The massive blade of the black knight, towering like a mountain before Piel.
It halted like an iron wall just before impaling the little beastkin.
"Worry not, Lady Syl."
"Uh... yeah?"
The dust storm parted, revealing the scene.
Garin's blade had come down flat, but it hadn't pierced through.
And beneath it, the small fox beastkin knelt firmly on one knee, pushing up her shield with both hands.
Garin looked down at the child and said lowly.
"This is no child who would fall to such a blow."
"She... blocked it?"
Syl's face went pale.
The mere fact that the young Piel had taken the flat of a blade several times her size head-on.
But the real shock came after.
Wolfram and Seratina, observing from the stands with mana in their eyes, had faces that suddenly stiffened.
Even though it was a shield conjured by Creation-type, the mana grains flowing over its surface were utterly different.
The light warped faintly, and the point of impact "expanded" momentarily in a unique reaction to the shock.
"That shield... it truly has traits imbued."
Wolfram's voice trembled.
"And considering their physical stats, for it to block so well... its performance rivals a divine artifact."
At first, seeing Piel conjure the shield instantly, they'd assumed her mana allocation was entirely skewed toward Creation-type.
But now, elevating what seemed a plain shield to divine artifact level—anyone could see her stats were overwhelmingly Amplification-type dominant.
A mediocre Amplification-type couldn't even imbue traits; at best, it might make it a bit sturdier or larger... mere "enhancement."
Yet Piel hadn't stopped at creation—she'd elevated it to another realm entirely.
The moment they realized this, Wolfram and Seratina simultaneously licked their lips without even exchanging glances.
If Syl took the child, it'd just be used for her usual pathetic playdates, as always.
Burying monstrous talent like this in such arrogant, futile drivel was like hiding a gem in the dirt.
Far better—
If Syl beat Lucas here and took Piel, to immediately trigger another Proxy Blood Fate and snatch her from Syl's hands.
The talent was that enticing.
But no matter how talented, no one imagined Piel could "win."
Because—
"Poor thing."
"Yeah. Good luck, but... terrible matchup."
The genius child who had finally revealed her talents to the world now faced...
Rumble rumble rumble—
A being emanating air pressure that shook the ground.
"Guh?!"
Several maids near the stands stifled screams.
The black knight's cape slowly, heavily swayed as he reset his sword's angle before Piel.
"All that is just child's play."
This was no mere knight, nor even an ordinary high knight.
One of the most ruthless and powerful knights representing the Dark family.
One whom Family Head Agram had personally acknowledged and granted the right to don jet-black armor—"them."
The Black Iron Knights.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Over the past month, Piel had moved exactly as I instructed.
Not easy, not hard—just force-feeding her the one true "answer."
And unbelievably, she kept up at an astonishing pace.
It had to be that way.
What I taught Piel wasn't current-era techniques, but precisely those from ten years in the future.
The exact mana manipulation methods used by the original "Hero Piel."
Right now, a discarded slave with no name, status, or respect.
But in ten years, a hero recognized by the world.
I remembered every bit of that Piel's combat sense, mana circuits, applications, and weakness compensations from the original story.
Young or not, she was still Piel at her core.
Her dormant talents had stirred with mana awakening, and my "cheat-level guidance" ignited their growth.
And this was the result.
Piel had succeeded in creating a shield with her own mana.
You can't imagine how hilarious Evelyn's face was in that moment.
Mouth agape, eyes shaking in pure "worldview collapse."
And that shield.
The gear now clinging to Piel's wrist like a small knuckle shield, enduring the Black Iron Knight's slash—its name was the Shield of Annihilating Strikes.
A piece of equipment born from intricate interplay of Creation- and Amplification-types, practically on par with a divine artifact.
Its ability was simple.
It nullifies 90% of any attack struck, no matter the opponent.
If small peppers are spicy, this was a small shield that was "insanely" tough.
The power gap between Black Iron Knight Garin and Piel was heaven and earth—no need to belabor it.
The only reason Piel endured now was one thing.
That metal lump on her tiny wrist.
The impossible wall created by the Shield of Annihilating Strikes.
Yet even that wall had cracks.
Clang! Claaang!
Explosive shockwaves rang out in succession.
Piel's small body was pushed back, her claws scraping the floor.
"Ngh...!"
Garin said lowly.
"That shield seems to reduce impact. But you can't win by just blocking."
It was true.
Despite her overwhelming weapon, Piel was completely overpowered by Garin.
Anyone would think so.
The outcome was decided.
What Piel was doing now was like an insect wriggling desperately at the feet of a massive beast.
As Garin said, mere defense couldn't win.
And Piel couldn't wield any weapon beyond the shield.
Or more precisely, she couldn't.
The only mana structure Piel could create was that one shield.
Garin sneered down at her.
"Don't tell me... you thought you could win with just that shield? Then facing me is your misfortune."
"Hah... hah!"
"I'm no fool who tires himself out and self-destructs."
With those words, Garin's sword rose again with a boom.
Heavier, deeper momentum than before.
Piel's eyes no longer held their initial sharp resolve.
Her body stiffened from the impacts, breaths ragged beyond the shield.
"Looks like that's it."
"Poor kid..."
"Garin! Don't cut off her limbs! Just knock her out!"
The moment everyone was certain, the sword cleaved the sky and fell.
Krunch!!
A rupturing sound like a guillotine severing life echoed through the arena, metal shattering.
It seemed the match was decided in one blow.
But—
The sight that followed halted the entire arena's breath once more.
Dozens of gazes froze solid.
The only one unmoved was Lucas.
What had shattered wasn't Piel's shield.
The broken one was Black Iron Knight Garin's jet-black sword.
"...Huh?"
The sound seemed unbelievable as it leaked from the black knight's mouth.
And at that instant, on Piel's wrist was a majestic shield engraved with dragon patterns—utterly different from the small one before.
Mana waves brushed the entire arena, making the spectators' hair stand on end.
That shield instinctively evoked her future moniker.
The Shield Hero.
An overwhelmingly imposing form that brought the name to mind.
Piel gripped the shield and growled low.
"I absolutely... won't lose."
Her orange eyes flashed like a beast's.
"Even if for Master... I'll tear that throat out myself!"