The party scanned their surroundings warily.
The ruined city stretched endlessly—shattered towers clawing at the crimson sky, streets choked with debris and glowing crystal vines. A foul wind carried the stench of decay. Distant screeches echoed from deeper within.
Ten mutated hyenas slunk from the shadows between crumbled buildings, their massive paws silent against the stone.
Each stood lion-sized, their patchy fur matted with glowing red veins that pulsed like infected wounds. Jagged bone spikes jutted from their spines and shoulders.
Their yellow eyes burned with cunning intelligence far beyond normal beasts. Acidic drool sizzled where it hit the ground, eating through stone like acid rain.
Low, rumbling growls vibrated through everyone's bones.
They circled slowly, patiently—bodies low to the ground, muscles rippling beneath scarred hides. Their gazes locked onto Isabella, correctly identifying her as the deadliest threat. Two larger ones in the front snapped their jaws, testing her reaction.
Isabella smiled dangerously, a predator among predators.
Her right hand drifted to her sword hilt. Leather creaked softly as her fingers tightened.
"No one interfere," she declared, voice ringing with absolute confidence. "I alone am enough."
She took one deliberate step forward.
The hyenas exploded into motion.
The pack split strategically—five charging straight at her in a wedge formation, three flanking left, two leaping for her right side. Perfect hunter tactics.
The lead hyenas opened their maws mid-charge. Three globs of corrosive green acid launched simultaneously—one high for her head, one mid for her torso, one low for her legs.
Isabella moved.
Her body flowed like water.
She dipped her head slightly right—the high acid glob sailed past her cheek, missing by millimeters. Her torso twisted left as the mid-shot passed through empty space.
Her left leg lifted casually as the low shot splattered harmlessly beneath her foot.
She never broke stride.
Each dodge was effortless—like strolling through a park on a sunny day.
Even Arthur's enhanced senses struggled to track her completely.
'Fast… too fast,' he analyzed. 'Her footwork creates perfect angular momentum. Every step generates force for the next movement. No wasted energy.'
The hyenas closed the gap.
The first reached her—lunging high with bone-spiked shoulders lowered like battering rams.
Isabella's sword cleared the sheath in a single liquid motion.
The blade sang—a high-pitched whistle that cut through the air itself.
Her hips rotated. Shoulders turned. Arms extended in perfect sequence.
A single horizontal arc—executed at blinding speed.
The sword tip traced a perfect semicircle at neck height.
Ten simultaneous wet thwacks echoed.
Ten heads separated from ten bodies in the same instant.
Blood fountained.
The headless corpses skidded forward on momentum, bone spikes scraping sparks against stone before collapsing in lifeless heaps.
The entire encounter lasted three seconds.
Silence fell, broken only by sizzling acid pools and dripping blood.
Mouths hung open around the party.
Jordan's smirk froze mid-formation.
The lackeys stared blankly.
Arthur blinked once, processing.
One swing.
Ten kills.
No techniques activated. Pure physical swordsmanship.
'Her efficiency is terrifying,' Arthur thought. 'Perfect weight distribution—zero telegraphing. Blade angle optimized for maximum cutting surface while minimizing resistance.
Every muscle movement synchronized. She's refined her swordsmanship to an astonishing level.'
'Her [Sword Sovereign] talent lives up to its reputation. Didn't even need mana enhancement for E-rank beasts.'
'Now I understand why Mala let her come here alone. Isabella isn't just talented—she's a monster in her own right.'
Jordan recovered first, forcing his smirk back. "She really lives up to her reputation as a prodigy, doesn't she?"
His underlings nodded vigorously, still dazed.
Marco was dazed. "That was… insane."
Arlo was mesmerized. "One swing…"
Atlas murmured under his breath. "I didn't even see it. When did she even move?"
Arthur nodded along, playing his role.
Isabella sheathed her sword with a soft *click*, platinum-blond hair settling perfectly. She turned to Arthur smugly. "What happened, F-rank? Too hard to follow my movements?"
Arthur's mouth twitched.
He stayed silent.
Jordan chuckled, waving it off. "E-rank mutated hyenas… nothing worth worrying about. With Isabella here, we're set."
He glanced around the ruins. "She might solo the boss too."
Isabella laughed—a smug, melodic sound that echoed off the broken buildings.
Jordan turned to Arthur casually. "What about you? Forgot to ask—what weapon do you use to fight?"
Arthur shifted nervously, eyes downcast, the perfect struggling nobody. "I… only have a little fighting experience with a sword. But…"
Jordan leaned forward. "But…?"
Arthur sighed heavily. "The sword I owned broke during practice… some time ago. Couldn't afford a new one."
Jordan stared incredulously. "Are you insane? A C-rank dungeon with no weapon?"
His underlings erupted in laughter, pointing mercilessly.
"No weapon? What are you, an idiot! Hahaha!"
"This guy's done for!"
"Should've stayed home, Mr. F-rank!"
Isabella clicked her tongue sharply. "Tch. You're really a handful, aren't you?"
She flicked her left wrist.
A sleek longsword materialized from her storage ring, clattering hilt-first to the blood-soaked ground at Arthur's feet.
"Take it," she said coldly. "Just don't slow me down now, Mr. F-rank."
Arthur knelt and picked it up carefully.
Perfect balance. Mithril alloy blade with faint blue runes along the fuller. The blade let out a faint resonance as Arthur gripped it and poured a little mana into it.
The scabbard was reinforced drake leather—easily worth an office worker's lifetime income.
'Top-tier enchanted blade. She tossed it like trash.'
Isabella turned sharply. "Let's move."
The party fell in behind her, boots crunching across hyena corpses as they ventured deeper into the ruins.
As they walked, Arthur murmured under his breath, "Show me my talent."
A window materialized—visible only to him.
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TALENT INFORMATION
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Name: Imperfect Imitation
Rank: F
Type: Innate Talent
Description:
Allows rough and low-level imitation of simple physical movement's through direct and repeated observation.
Limitations:
• Replication incomplete and unstable
• Imitated movement's will lack core principles and efficiency
• Power output significantly reduced
• High stamina and mental strain
• High risk of muscle tears, internal strain, lasting injury, permanent damage
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Arthur's eyes narrowed as he swung the gifted sword experimentally—feeling its perfect weight.
'With my Photographic memory i was able to capture her exact movements. No need for repetition.'
'But the risk… muscle tears, permanent damage.
Can't afford injury now.
But an opportunity like this will hardly come again..'
Arthur sighed, muttering under his breath, "Let's see how much further I can go with this useless talent of mine."
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A/N:
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