No Killing Intent.

  But my scythe-spear’s thrust, aimed dead-serious at the face, is designed to flow seamlessly into a sshing follow-up with the bde upon retracting, even if deflected.

  Most pyers familiar with my weapon’s shape could predict this motion.

  But for first-timers who dodge the initial thrust and assume they can nd a single counterattack before the spear retracts—there awaits the second bde.

  The second ssh, delivered by the magically lengthened and sharpened scythe edge, should be an attack nearly impossible to foresee.

  "......"

  Yet, in the briefest flicker of her gaze, Cudia didn’t look behind her—but at my feet. Or rather, judging by the angle of her vision, the movement of my hips, not my thighs.

  While keeping my upper body in her sight,

  gathered predictive information from my lower body’s motion at the furthest visible angle.

  As I pulled my left foot back, poised to ssh her throat with the scythe’s edge on the retraction—she didn’t pursue. Instead, she ducked with minimal movement, letting the incoming bde pass overhead, then unleashed a compact fist from her tightly folded right arm straight into my gut.

  "Gh—!"

  My posture, mid-scythe swing, left me unable to retract the long spear in time.

  But I’ve fought my share of PvP battles.

  I’ve faced high-tier brawler-type pyers before.

  And I know the speed and power of Cudia’s punches.

  There’s just enough time to wedge the spear’s shaft between her fist and my body—but not enough to fully block it.

  "Hmph."

  Then I’ll just let the force send me flying.

  Right before being unched, I heard Cudia let out a noise of surprise.

  Her small, childlike frame combined with the sheer power of her punch sent me flying farther than expected—too far for an immediate follow-up.

  "Css 6, Level 200 or so, huh?"

  Plus, though I was sent flying horizontally, my ingrained reflexes kicked in. I twisted midair to avoid catching my spear on the ground, rolling sideways like a wheel before nding cleanly.

  Assessing the impact, the distance I was sent, and my own stats, I felt relief—she hadn’t yet reached her in-game stats from when we first met in the original story.

  "My arm… still works."

  The biggest factor was diverting the core of the impact. Even so, the shock was staggering.

  No wonder pyers called her the "Heretic Monk."

  "Using my own attack to create distance? Even seasoned warriors would struggle to evade that strike. I put enough force into it to shatter weapons even if blocked. Yet yours remains intact, and now I’m back in spear range… Are you a dwarven warrior?"

  "No, just a regur human."

  Now, the term "Heretic Monk" implies a cleric who viotes doctrine, but in Cudia’s case, it’s due to her skill composition.

  Among brawler-types, she’s specialized in destruction—limbs, armor, defenses, even monster hides—while also mastering internal-penetration strikes.

  In short, she’s the kind of battle maiden you never want close, capable of breaking you inside and out.

  "I see."

  "!?"

  And with her aura-based skills, it’s not just about raw power—

  "Kuh—!?"

  She can fire ki bsts, attacking from beyond spear range.

  Fist-sized clumps of mana, unched like jabs with no tell.

  Fast projectile speed, rapid-fire capable.

  And at my current level, even one clean hit would mean instant game over.

  Too far, and she overwhelms me.

  Too close, and I’m crushed.

  Even at mid-range, there’s no respite.

  If I turtle up, the ki bsts whittle me down.

  This time, I have to close the gap myself.

  "......"

  But charging blindly would just make me target practice.

  Gripping the scythe-spear in my right hand, I use my left to deflect incoming ki bsts, leaning forward as if bowing.

  My left hand touches the ground, preventing full contact—creating a pseudo-tripod stance.

  Then, kicking off with my right foot, I dart forward at ground level.

  "Like a beast!"

  Being forced low isn’t ideal, but intercepting a low stance requires finesse.

  From Cudia’s posture, aiming at me now means her ki bsts angle downward from chest height.

  Creating a sliver of space just ahead.

  I slip into that gap the moment she adjusts, buying acceleration time.

  But she quickly adapts, filling the space with ki bsts—just as I anticipated.

  In raw speed, even at full tilt, Cudia can track me.

  In stamina, my child-sized, lower-level body would give out first.

  Meaning, a stat-based fight is hopeless.

  My only advantages:

  I know Cudia’s skill composition, while she underestimates me, likely pegging me as Css 3 or 4.

  Despite my childlike appearance, my pyer-honed movement mastery.

  These two hopes.

  A few seconds into my advance—

  Dodging sideways, surging forward, sudden stops—my erratic, unpredictable movements resemble not a human’s, but a beastman’s.

  This is a PvP technique inspired by attempts to replicate the movements of beastman NPCs back in the game era.

  In reality, quadrupedal motion for humans is biomechanically awkward—the 100m world record for two-legged sprinting (under 10 seconds) dwarfs the quadrupedal record (over 15).

  Human skeletal structure and muscle bance aren’t built for it.

  But this isn’t reality.

  It’s a game world.

  Even with physics engines, fantasy stats allow movements that defy anatomy.

  And FBO’s beastmen provide a tempte for these "impossible" techniques.

  "Hah!!"

  "First a dwarven warrior, now a beastman’s tactics!?"

  Mastering bestial movement is grueling, but once learned, it’s surprisingly viable. Exploiting Cudia’s blind spots, I re-enter spear range.

  Dodging ki bsts, my low-angle thrust snakes upward, again aiming for her throat.

  "Impressive! But—"

  Given my attack power versus Cudia’s defensive skills, damaging her is like smashing rock with a wooden sword.

  I must target weak points—critical hits.

  Ironically, just like against the Earth Dragon.

  But weak points are small, and my attack speed gs behind Cudia’s.

  As if to prove how easily small targets are avoided, she palm-strikes the bde aside, sending my spear veering wide.

  No time to recover it for defense.

  In the same motion, her other fist arcs toward me.

  "!?"

  But I was waiting for this!!

  My one-handed spear thrust sends the weapon flying far away—leaving me unarmed.

  The perfect opening.

  No feints, no hesitation.

  A clean, fight-ending strike.

  I focus every nerve.

  I expected the spear to be deflected.

  With inferior stats and slower attack speed, nding a spear hit was never realistic.

  Back in my gaming days, one PvP technique was practically mandatory—

  Non-Skill Skills.

  Techniques outside the skill system.

  Swordsmanship, martial arts, spearmanship, magic—

  Amidst these combat skills, some techniques exist outside the system.

  One famous example: real-world ancient martial arts.

  Centuries-old combat disciplines designed to break people, surviving into modernity.

  All they demand is relentless training.

  No attack boosts. No accuracy corrections.

  But even without skills, techniques can be executed.

  No skill slots needed—just raw stats.

  Timing it perfectly, I grab her sleeve, step into her striking rhythm, and pivot into a throw.

  A judo ippon seoi nage—but modified for PvP.

  Instead of smming her back-first, I—

  "Hah!!!"

  —drive her head-first into the ground.

  A damage-optimized, borderline-cheap move.

  Putting everything into the throw with this child’s body, I hear Cudia gasp as she’s flipped.

  In this world, skill builds revolve around primary skills.

  Unless you’re running a bizarre setup, deviations are rare.

  That’s the optimal path—skill slots are limited.

  And using "strong" skills is the norm.

  Hence, techniques align with those skills.

  So, estimating my level and slot count, Cudia assumed I was still developing my spear skills.

  The idea of me having a throw? Unthinkable.

  Against an opponent with no reason to suspect hand-to-hand proficiency, these "non-skill" techniques shine.

  "I’m impressed, Liberta."

  "!?"

  But she shattered that gaming convention.

  As if countering "non-skill" with "non-skill," Cudia stabbed her free hand into the ground—using it as an anchor to absorb the throw’s momentum.

  Pivoting on that arm, she handstands midair.

  Bad.

  My PvP instincts scream danger.

  I have fractions of a second to release her and leap back—

  "Guh—!?"

  Gritting my teeth, I cross my arms in a desperate guard, bracing for impact—

  Crack.

  A sickening sound from my left arm.

  "First dwarven tactics, then beastman movements. A spearman, yet you wield throws like this."

  In this skill-centric society, unorthodox tricks usually work wonders.

  But against her, it seems all they did was briefly surprise a legend.

  "Evading the full impact by leaping back was masterful. I was eager to see what else you’d show me… but this is unfortunate. Disarmed, and with one hand, you can’t win."

  Slowly righting herself, she pnts both feet and pulls her embedded arm free.

  The fighting spirit in her eyes dims, repced by something like regret.

  "Had we fought a few years ter, it might’ve been a better match."

  My scythe-spear lies ten meters from my right hand.

  My left arm is broken—numb from adrenaline, but the pain is creeping in.

  Almost no paths to victory remain.

  With my left intact, I’d have options. Now, only one remains.

  A razor-thin chance.

  "...My apologies. Words are wasted on a warrior."

  But I can still win.

  I raise my limp left arm as a decoy, hiding my right.

  Cudia reignites her aura—stronger than ever, yering every self-buff she has.

  The prep takes mere seconds.

  "Here I come."

  Her first step is the signal.

  At her current level, she hasn’t yet perfected that combo.

  The one I must overcome to beat Cudia.

  Thunder Step—a movement skill allowing lightning-fast straight-line advances—brings her instantly into my face.

  Blink, and she’s there.

  Then, Quaking Stomp.

  A feint resembling a footwork skill, but secretly activating another technique:

  Shadow Trample.

  A skill that immobilizes by stepping on the opponent’s shadow.

  My feet lock in pce.

  I twitch my left arm.

  I imagine a pulley.

  A crawling sensation slithers down my back as I brace for the coming pain.

  Now, a binary choice:

  Fist or foot?

  Guess wrong, and I lose.

  Her movements up to the immobilization are a blur—I rely on intuition.

  Forming my left hand into a bde, I channel Magic Edge.

  As I sense her fist nearing the point where my Magic Edge would deflect it—

  I lunge with my hidden right hand.

  T/n From tomorrow onward updates wil became unstable