GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Vol 2 - Chapter 31.3: Perturbation Vector

Sylwen, however, proved far from cornered. As Marcus closed in, she executed a flawless backflip, creating distance while simultaneously nocking an arrow. The instant her feet hit the sand, she released—forcing Marcus to deflect the shot with his blade.

"What reflexes!" Janos roared over the crowd. "Miss Wyvell turns retreat into opportunity! Most archers would falter up close, but she's weaving precision and motion into one seamless dance!"

Marcus pressed forward again, only for Sylwen to cartwheel sideways, her bow steady even mid-spin. Another arrow flew, forcing Marcus to break his charge to parry.

"Look at her footwork," Celia whispered, awe in her tone. "She's channeling technique to lighten her body."

Vel noticed the faint glow beneath Sylwen's feet—like Jana's before her, but sharper, more refined. The enchantment on her soles seemed to make each jump higher than any normal person could, giving her movements an almost weightless grace.

"Relentless pursuit from Mister Valenne! Unyielding precision from Miss Wyvell!" Janos's voice thundered. "This is no longer offense and defense—it's endurance and control in perfect balance!"

Seeing Sylwen in midair, Marcus reacted instantly. "Gaia Slam!" he roared, driving his blade into the ground. The arena trembled as jagged stone burst upward, forming a field of spires where Sylwen was set to land.

Almost desperately, Sylwen angled her bow downward, using it like a spring to soften her fall. The weapon struck a rising shard with a deep thud, bouncing her just enough to clear the hazard. The strain, however, made the limbs of her bow groan under pressure.

Marcus seized the opening, circling fast. His swing came low then rose, intended to drive Sylwen back into the jagged terrain he'd created—leaving her no room to retreat. Instead, Sylwen did the unthinkable: she raised her bow to intercept the swing.

"What?!" Marcus's disbelief was clear even from the stands.

Steel met wood with a thunderous clang. The bow, already strained from impact, snapped in two. Splinters scattered like sparks across the sand.

In that instant of confusion, Sylwen twisted low, her leg sweeping across the ground. Marcus's balance vanished—his body lifted, weightless for a heartbeat, before he crashed to the arena floor.

"She's turned his strength against him!" Janos shouted, his voice rising over the roar of the crowd. "But sacrificing her weapon—how is she going to finish this match?!"

Sylwen no longer had her weapon, yet she refused to yield. She flipped backward high into the air, every muscle straining, her movements measured and deliberate.

Then came the moment that silenced the crowd.

A luminous bow shimmered into existence as she drew her hands back, energy gathering in a radiant string of light.

"Gale-forged Strike."

The weapon and its arrows were pure conjuration. Vel recognized the technique in a gasp. He had almost forgotten this kind of Martial Art was possible in Aeonalus—the blend between magic and archery, popular among the Elven race, especially veteran rangers.

Twin bolts of magic blazed across the arena, striking Marcus squarely in the chest as he still knelt from his earlier fall. The force knocked him back down—his body trembling under the illusion of the wound and the backlash of his shattered protective charm.

A luminous dome flared into existence at that instant. The jagged stone formations crumbled as the duel's magic subsided.

"A DECISIVE FINISH!" Janos thundered. "Team Wyvell triumphs through ADAPTABILITY and FINESSE! What a STUNNING conclusion to this extraordinary bout!"

The arena erupted. Cheers, applause, and cries of disbelief thundered through the stands. Vel found himself standing, clapping without realizing it, caught in the swell of energy.

Sylwen stood alone at the center of the arena, chest heaving with exhaustion, sweat darkened her uniform, sand layered her hair. The sudden wave of applause made her flinch.

Vel noticed a faint shade of red across her face even from a distance—perhaps exhaustion. After a brief pause, she turned and walked toward the exit, her steps slow at first, then quickened, as if the weight of the crowd's attention urging her to escape the arena.

"Wow," Tomas breathed, the word barely audible beneath the ovation. "I never thought a bow user could do that."

The archer had completely upended Vel's expectations. What should have been a weakness in close quarters had instead become her greatest strength.

Celia nodded beside him, eyes wide. "Speaking of underestimating—maybe it's us who misjudged the other students."

Vel felt a pang of humility. The display he'd just witnessed had been nothing short of masterful.

"Sylwen," he murmured, watching the officials help other students. "I won't forget that name anytime soon."

"What a MAGNIFICENT opening to the tournament!" Janos's voice boomed anew. "Sylwen Wyvell proves that appearances can be DECEIVING! An archer besting a swordsman in close combat—who could have imagined it? THIS, my friends, is why we hold the Ternion Tournament—to witness the UNEXPECTED!"

The crowd's energy remained electric, conversations buzzing throughout the stands as attendants reset the arena floor. Vel could hear snippets of excited discussion all around him—students debating techniques, questioning previous assumptions about combat roles.

"We'll now take a brief intermission before the next thrilling match!" Janos declared. "When we return—brace yourselves for another spectacle of talent and tenacity!"

Vel turned to Celia and Tomas, his expression serious. "That'll be us after the next one. We'd better get ready."

The three stood up nervously, each processing what they'd just witnessed. Celia whispered what all three were thinking.

"How many others are hiding their true strength?"

Tomas exhaled slowly. "If an archer can fight like that..."

They walked toward the preparation room.

"We need to be ready for anything," he said quietly.

Vel took a deep breath, centering himself as he considered what lay ahead. The tournament suddenly felt more unpredictable than he'd anticipated.

He'd been so focused on the known threats—Severin, Kein, the other elite students—that he'd overlooked the possibility of hidden talents among the regular ranks.

How many others were like Sylwen Wyvell—Students with unremarkable reputations but exceptional abilities when pushed to their limits?

The thought was both unsettling and exhilarating.