“Mokhwa Baek,” the tall woman introduced herself, extending a hand toward Gyeoul. It was a simple gesture, meant for a light handshake.

“I… I’m Han Gyeoul…”

Gyeoul’s hand trembled as it met Mokhwa’s. To Mokhwa, Gyeoul’s small hand felt as delicate as a baby’s.
Letting out a weak laugh, Mokhwa turned to her master for clarification.

“Master, are we really doing this?”

“No, not for real. Just go easy on her.”

“Ah…”

That made sense.
The idea of seriously sparring with a child was absurd to begin with.

“Don’t worry too much. I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Mokhwa reached out and gently patted Winter on the head.
Her soft feline ears twitched under the touch, and Mokhwa couldn’t resist focusing on them.

“Lightly?”

“Yes.”

This wasn’t going to be like fighting with her full strength, like a martial artist.
There was no reason for Gyeoul to feel so scared.
As relief washed over her, Gyeoul’s tail regained its liveliness.

“Alright then, let’s put down our weapons and try bare-handed sparring.”

“Huh?”

Bare-handed?
Gyeoul’s strength wasn’t even above average for a normal person!
Without mana, she was practically just a child!
Gyeoul looked around at Cha Joo-yeon and the others but saw no objections.

Is this normal here?

Unfamiliar with this world’s rules, Gyeoul decided to follow along, trusting that everyone else seemed okay with it.

“Are you and Mokhwa ready, Gyeoul?” Cha Joo-yeon asked.

“Y-Yes…”

There was no choice but to try.
After all, this wasn’t a full-power fight.
Steeling her resolve, Gyeoul followed Cha Joo-yeon’s lead and stepped onto the sparring platform.
At the same time, mana began to drain from both participants’ bodies.

“Mana is…”

“Don’t worry too much. There’s no forced suppression. That kind of technology doesn’t exist yet.”

“Hmm…”

Gyeoul felt reassured.
There was a sense that she could still call upon her mana in an emergency.
Knowing there wasn’t any absolute restriction brought her some comfort.

“Alright, are both of you ready?”

Cha Joo-yeon’s voice drew the attention of the spectators.
They gathered around, curious to see this unexpected match.

“Gyeoul versus Mokhwa, huh?”

“Yeah, interesting.”

Although it was a child versus an adult, no one criticized Mokhwa.
To do so would have been disrespectful to Gyeoul.
The adventurers watching the training ground had no intention of mocking someone who was clearly trying their best.

“Alright, face each other…”

The air grew tense as the match began.

Ding!
The bell rang, and Gyeoul immediately dashed backward to create distance.

Tap tap tap!
Even without mana, her beastkin physiology allowed her to move at incredible speed.
She was as fast as a four-legged animal, leaving the crowd stunned.

“How is she that fast?”

“Even without mana, her base abilities must be exceptional.”

Tap tap tap tap—!
Winter darted in circles around Mokhwa.
Mokhwa had to spin like a top, struggling to keep up with Gyeoul’s speed.
Without mana to stabilize her, she was quickly growing dizzy.

I might actually lose this, Mokhwa thought.

Gyeoul’s rapid movements occasionally took her out of Mokhwa’s line of sight.
Not being used to fighting without mana made it harder for Mokhwa to keep track of her opponent.

Swoosh!
The sound of wind preceded Gyeoul’s approach.
She dashed toward Mokhwa’s right side, aiming for her waist.

Tap!
Gyeoul struck Mokhwa’s waist with her fist and immediately retreated.
Although the hit connected, it felt more like a light massage than an attack.

“…?”

Gyeoul continued targeting Mokhwa’s openings, but no damage accumulated.
Instead, Gyeoul was the one growing tired.

As Gyeoul’s movements began to slow, Mokhwa realized something.
Those light punches were Gyeoul’s full-power attacks.

She’s fast, but that’s all, Mokhwa thought.
She focused on guarding, waiting for Gyeoul to exhaust herself.
Despite the situation, Mokhwa couldn’t help but find Winter’s relentless effort endearing.
Like a playful kitten, Gyeoul darted around with her arms stretched out for balance, trying to execute sharp turns.

Tap.

As time passed, Gyeoul’s exhaustion became evident.
Meanwhile, Mokhwa, who had barely moved, was still full of energy.

When Gyeoul lunged at her again, Mokhwa reached out and caught her hand.
The slowed-down attack made it easy.

Got her.

Mokhwa instinctively grabbed Gyeoul’s collar, preparing to use her signature throw, which leveraged her size and strength.

But then she remembered who her opponent was.
This was Gyeoul, a child.

Mokhwa glanced around, noticing the sharp glares from both the Holy Guild and Yeomyeong Guild members.
Even the Guild Masters, Cha Joo-yeon and Kang Jin-ho, were watching her with predatory stares.
They wouldn’t interfere, respecting the sparring match, but their murderous gazes were unmistakable.

“…”

Mokhwa turned her attention back to Gyeoul.
She had only meant to grab her collar, but Gyeoul was so light that she dangled helplessly in the air.

Winter gripped Mokhwa’s wrist and kicked her legs, trying to free herself, but it was futile.

“Ugh…”

It was over.
Sensing her defeat, Gyeoul’s ears and tail drooped.
Her body trembled like a frightened kitten.

“E-Eyahp.”

Mokhwa gently executed the throw.
She carefully reduced the speed as Gyeoul’s back approached the ground, cradling her as though placing a sleeping child onto a bed.
Not a single sound was made.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

Winter’s eyes widened in surprise.
Mokhwa had clearly been considerate.
Realizing this, Gyeoul’s tail began to wag softly.

“I lost,” Gyeoul admitted.

“Yeah, but you’re really fast. I was impressed.”

Sparring against someone so quick had been a valuable experience for Mokhwa.
She offered Gyeoul a sincere thank-you, grateful for all she had gained from the match.

***

I sat on a bench near the training grounds, replaying the sparring session in my head.
The issue I found was simple: I lacked strength.

I tried to rely on speed…

Even with fast movements, there was no damage.
As a result, I was the one who tired out first.

“Ugh…”

It seemed that even without mana, I couldn’t compete with an active adventurer.
The idea that I could fight well without mana might have been arrogant to begin with.

Sigh.
I exhaled deeply and was about to glance around when Cha Joo-yeon approached me.

“Gyeoul, you fought so well! I was really impressed!”

“No, not really. I didn’t even land a proper hit…”

“Come on, that’s because it was a bare-handed fight. If you’d had a weapon, Mokhwa wouldn’t have stood a chance!”

“Hmm… but a loss is still a loss.”

If I had used a short sword to stab and retreat repeatedly, I might have won.
Still, for the sake of growth, I decided to accept the loss gracefully.

“Wow, Gyeoul, you’re so mature. The world is full of adults who can’t admit defeat.”

Cha Joo-yeon picked me up, patting my back repeatedly, as if trying to erase my fear of the fight and the sting of defeat.

“So, how was the sparring? We’re thinking of holding a tournament like this later on.”

“It was fun, but there were some problems.”

“Problems?”

“Yes, with the rules.”

“Rules? What about them?”

Cha Joo-yeon looked puzzled, which made sense.

“This match was supposed to be without mana, but the rules were designed for fights that use mana.”

“Oh!”

Her eyes widened as she seemed to realize something.
She looked at me expectantly, silently urging me to continue.

“For starters, the arena is too big. It’d take forever to corner someone.”

In combat sports, corners were important for applying pressure on an opponent.
But the arena we used was massive—about 200 square meters.
Without mana, most people would be too exhausted to corner their opponent.

Cha Joo-yeon stopped patting my back and began rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“You’re right… I didn’t even think about needing different rules…”

“This is the first time, so it’s understandable.”

“Yeah. I’ll have to reconsider the rules. Gyeoul, do you have any other ideas?”

Other ideas?
There were a lot.
Even if this world didn’t have them, the world I came from had rules for every sport.

“I think there should be rest breaks between rounds. Like fighting for three minutes and resting for one.”

“Rest? During a fight?”

“Yes. Without mana, people tire out quickly. If they fight intensely, they won’t last five minutes.”

“Really?”
As Cha Joo-yeon tilted her head in confusion, Mokhwa, who had been nearby, chimed in.

“Master, Gyeoul’s right. Without mana, you get tired much faster.”

“Is that so? Then rest breaks might really be necessary.”

“Definitely. If you want people to strategize, they need breaks. Otherwise, it’ll just turn into chaotic brawling.”

Once exhaustion set in, fights would devolve into uncoordinated slugfests.
For a world that appreciated refined combat, this would be a disaster.

“That would be awful…”

“Yeah. Gyeoul caught a lot of things we missed.”

“Ah, no… I just…”

I had only suggested rules that already existed in my previous world.
There was no way I could tell them that, so I felt my face flush with embarrassment.

“Gyeoul, is there anything else?”

“W-Well, there is…”

“Oh! Can you tell me?”

I could, but it felt awkward claiming this knowledge as my own.
On the other hand, I couldn’t reveal the truth about my past life.

I glanced nervously at our Guild Master, Kang Jin-ho.
Understanding my situation, he gave me a small nod, silently encouraging me to go ahead.

“I can tell you, but… it’s not something I figured out myself…”

“Then who came up with it?”

“…I don’t know?”

Mokhwa tilted her head in confusion, but before she could grow suspicious, I quickly changed the subject.

“Ah, um, for example, safety measures…”

From there, I began explaining all the rules and ideas I could think of.
With each suggestion, I could feel the attention of those around me growing more focused.
The way they looked at me, as if I were some kind of genius, made me uncomfortable.

“You came up with all that in such a short time?”

“That’s amazing. You just solved all the tricky parts!”

“Seriously, you’re a natural…”

I’d said it wasn’t my own idea, but no one seemed to believe me.

This was somehow more exhausting than sparring with Mokhwa.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep