The Wrong Hero Has Been Summoned
Chapter 16 - 1st Match

Chapter 16: 1st Match

Becca charged at him again, this time more cautiously. She feinted with a left jab before spinning into a powerful roundhouse kick aimed at his head.

He ducked under it with ease, then surprised her by suddenly stepping into her space rather than away. His palm shot forward, striking her sternum with just enough force to send her sliding back several feet.

"So you can attack," she said, a glint of excitement in her eyes.

She recovered quickly and came at him with a flurry of strikes—punches and kicks flowing together in a rhythm that would have overwhelmed most opponents. Her technique was refined, each movement flowing naturally into the next.

He matched her tempo perfectly, deflecting some blows with his forearms and evading others with subtle shifts of his body. When she overcommitted to a punch, he grabbed her wrist and used her momentum to pull her forward, destabilizing her stance.

The crowd had grown larger now, fighters watching with keen interest as the two exchanged blows.

"He’s good," someone whispered.

"She’s better than I thought too," another replied.

Becca broke free of his grip with a twist of her body and immediately countered with a sweeping low kick. He jumped over it and, while still in the air, placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed himself away, creating distance between them.

"Getting serious now?" she asked, breathing slightly harder but still composed.

He smiled. "Just warming up."

This time, he took the initiative. He moved forward with deceptive quickness, his strikes coming from unexpected angles. She blocked his first two punches but missed the third—a light tap to her ribs that could have been devastating if he put his full strength behind it.

"Point taken," she acknowledged, adjusting her stance.

They continued their dance across the arena, neither gaining a clear advantage. He was pushing her back gradually, using precise timing to disrupt her attacks before they fully formed. His fighting style was efficient, almost minimal—no wasted movement, no flashy techniques.

Though, this was just one of his styles.

The onlookers watched in silence, recognizing the skill on display. Even Vess and Luna seemed impressed by the level of combat.

"Was he always this good?" Vess asked, looking at Luna.

"No...seems he was hiding his skills, no wonder he was so cocky back then."

Just as the match intensified, with Becca launching a particularly complex combination of strikes, Luther suddenly did something no one expected.

He took three quick steps backward, then deliberately jumped off the arena platform, landing casually on the ground below.

A confused murmur spread through the crowd. Becca stood frozen mid-stance, her expression shifting from concentration to utter bewilderment.

"What are you doing?" she called out, lowering her hands. "We were just getting started!"

He looked up at her from outside the ring and shrugged. "I felt what I needed to feel."

"You’re giving up?" she asked, genuinely confused. "Why?"

The crowd was equally baffled. After all the whispers about his skill, after handling Kross so easily, he just... quit?

He adjusted his wristband casually. "Not giving up. Just saving my energy for when it counts." He looked her in the eyes with a slight smile. "I hope to face you in the actual tournament, Becca. That’s when I’ll show you what I can really do."

she stood there, hands on her hips, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re a strange one, Luther."

"see you around," he replied, turning to rejoin his companions.

As they walked away, Luna whispered, "Why did you do that? You were winning!"

He glanced back at Becca, who was still watching him with curious eyes.

"Because now she thinks she knows my fighting style, but she’s only seen what I wanted her to see." He smiled slightly. "Always keep something in reserve for when it really matters."

A few hours later, the official qualifiers were about to begin. Luther stood with Vess, Luna, and Selene in the crowded area surrounding the arenas, watching as officials made final preparations. The atmosphere had changed—the casual practice sessions were over, and tension filled the air.

"Attention, contestants!" Mai’s voice filled the air, amplified by magic. "The qualification rounds will begin in five minutes. When your wristband vibrates, check the display for your assigned arena and proceed there immediately."

Luther glanced at his black wristband. Soon, he’d know who his first opponent would be.

"Nervous?" Selene asked, noticing him looking at the band.

"No," he replied simply. "Just ready to get this started."

Around them, fighters were stretching, checking their weapons, or sitting quietly with eyes closed in meditation. Some looked confident, others clearly anxious. The news of his encounter with Kross—and his unusual practice match with Becca—had spread, and he occasionally caught people glancing in his direction. Some wanting to take him on while many wanted nothing to do with him.

"There must be a strategy to this," Vess said, watching the officials shuffling papers at a table. "They’re probably matching certain fighters against each other."

"It doesn’t matter," he said. "I’ll beat whoever they put in front of me."

Suddenly, several wristbands throughout the crowd began to vibrate, including his. He looked down at the small display: ARENA 2.

"That was fast," Luna said. "Good luck!"

He nodded and made his way through the crowd toward Arena 2. As he approached, he saw his opponent already waiting—a muscular man with a long spear who looked to be in his thirties.

"Luther versus Darian!" an official announced as he stepped onto the platform. "Qualifier match one!"

The man—Darian—twirled his spear professionally. "Nothing personal, kid. I’ve been training for this tournament for years."

He didn’t reply. He simply took his position and placed his hand on his sword hilt, ready to draw if needed.

"Begin!" the official shouted.

Darian wasted no time, lunging forward with his spear aimed at Luther’s chest. The weapon had impressive reach, keeping Luther at a distance that prevented easy counterattacks.

He sidestepped the first thrust, then the second. He studied his opponent’s movements, noting the pattern in his attacks. The man was skilled with the spear, using its length to control the space between them.

"Not going to draw your sword?" Darian taunted, continuing his assault. "You’ll need it!"

He remained silent, focusing on evading rather than engaging. Each time the spear came toward him, he moved just enough to avoid it, conserving his energy while his opponent exerted himself with elaborate attacks.

’Are these people really professionals?’ He dodged another attack ,’seriously?’

The crowd around Arena 2 had grown, drawn by his reputation. Some were shouting encouragement to Darian, others just watching curiously to see what Luther would do.

After two minutes of failed attacks, Darian’s frustration was showing. His thrusts became more aggressive but less precise. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried increasingly complex maneuvers to catch Luther off guard.

"Stop running and fight!" he shouted, spinning his spear in a wide arc.

He caught the spear with his hand, covered in mana and instantly pulled him in, landing a devastating kick to the man’s face. He crashed to the ground, blood running from his nose and mouth.

The crowd went silent as Darian lay on the ground, stunned by the sudden, powerful kick. No one had expected Luther to end the fight so quickly after spending minutes just dodging attacks.

"Winner: Luther!" the official announced, sounding surprised himself.

As he stepped off the platform, whispers spread through the crowd even faster than before.

"Did you see that? He caught the spear with his bare hand!" "One kick was all it took..." "Who is this guy?"

The girls approached him, looking impressed.

"That was quick," Vess said with a slight smile. "You barely broke a sweat."

He just looked at them and back at Darian. "Yeah..."

"Your next match probably won’t be announced for a while," Selene explained. "They’re cycling through all the fighters first."

"Good. I could use something to eat," he replied, already walking toward the food vendors set up near the arenas.