It was now known that Oaks was the name of the triumphing man at the arm-wrestling stand. Indeed, he was rather demeaning, already seeming to emit a form of confidence which felt more closely tied to conceit—far different from Mystery’s own form of composure. Afar from that, he was obviously bulky, and it might not just be brawn he possessed, for his sharp eyes seemed able to pierce through any contestant.

    “Heh? Impressive,” Mystery said, although her eyes didn’t show much interest. “Eighty victories, huh?”

    “Eighty,” Alice said, somewhat surprised by that number. “That’s extraordinarily rare to see in these kinds of matches.”

    The nature of arm-wrestling lied in the fact that anyone could participate. Each passing individual waltzing past the plaza at this moment could either be an adventurer, an experienced adventurer, or an adventurer beyond the skills of others. To have survived eighty consecutive matches and still reign supreme was something heard of only once in an indigo moon.

    “Well, that’s because all the actual strong people are busy adventuring instead of wandering around looking for an arm-wrestling match, right? But still, eighty victories…”

    “You’re right, that’s a good point. Still, to acquire eighty consecutive victories, that’s—”

    “That’s probably earning him a lot of money.”

    Alice’s ears almost perked. Was Mystery not impressed in the slightest? More importantly, why was her initial reaction so bleak? The man named Oaks clearly separated himself from the rest by achieving eighty consecutive wins, yet she only chose to wonder at the amount of money he was producing from displaying his strength.

    “It seems Oaks will continue being the reigning champion today! It certainly doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop anytime soon! As an experienced veteran of the Adventurer’s Association, he’s been taking his days off since his last mission, coming here today to show us what true strength is!”

    The man who acted as the announcer for the game was also the adjudicator of the arm-wrestling premise. His role was to ensure that proper rules and procedures—such as only being allowed to use physical enhancements, no magic—were being conducted, as well as handling each game’s prize pool and pitting opponents against each other. The arm-wrestling platform itself wasn’t necessarily owned by anyone, thus the adjudicator was more like someone who worked part-time overseeing the matches.

    “Hmm?” Mystery uttered with an unexpected edge in her voice.

    Alice couldn’t help but notice her companion’s remark; something about it was strange. She sounded slightly… irritated? But why? Was it because Oaks had all that money to himself? Was it because he was being impudent? Or was it because—the adjudicator mentioned that Oaks was here to show people "true strength"?

    The eighty-first contestant against Oaks entered through from the line of about ten to fifteen people. He handed over the admission money, with the adjudicator giving the bills a cursory glance, and was then asked if he wished to place any bets. And so, obviously without having added any pretense of betting, the middle-aged contestant stood up to the platform, locking his elbow in place to the sturdy quartz-like rectangular block which acted as a table, joining his hands with Oaks’s proportionally larger one. Eighty was an impressive landmark number, but eighty-one was not; therefore, the crowd was less fired up for the event to come, albeit still in awe at Oaks himself.

    It was like an unwieldy boulder; the contestant stood no chance. This was Oak’s personal form of condolence. Making no move to try to win the game from the start, he instead allowed his opponents a chance to budge his arm by keeping it still. By now, the eighty-first contestant’s face was bathed red like an apple, trying his absolute best not to lose dignity when given his chance to prove his worth. Each muscle in his body; each direction of his being; everything was working towards the one specific goal of turning his opponent’s arm to the winning side. Of course, that didn’t happen. Ultimately, his chance at overcoming the challenge in front of him was no longer apparent, for before he knew it—he lost. Oaks only gave each person one chance, and the contestant had lost grasp of it.

    “That’s one more for the big fish! He’s on to eighty-one total consecutive wins now! Truly, a man like him knows no limits to what he can do! Will today end with no force able to overcome the champion known as Oaks?!”

    But the truth was, it wasn’t because the contestant was weak. Oaks was simply far stronger than anyone present within the plaza; in fact, he might’ve belonged considerably high on the local adventurer rankings within the city’s Guildhouse. Regardless, there came more cheering as the eighty-first victim came crashing down.

    “Seems he is a strong adventurer with free time. His arm didn't even budge,” Alice remarked, observing the match with some interest. The fact that Oaks's arm wasn't able to be moved by any conceivable amount only showed the disparity between him and the opponent.

    “Oi, Alice,” Mystery began, smirking assuredly, “I know how we can make some really easy money.”

    “Eh? Is that so...” she regarded her, “What’s your plan? I'm presuming we can continue now?”

    “Give me some cash. I’ll admit myself in and earn us money by beating him. He’s confident, so I’m sure he’ll accept any bets.”

    “H-hah?!” Alice exclaimed, attempting to channel her inner calm. Did she hear her correctly? Truly—how was she able to say such things with perfect composure? “W-what are you saying?! Even I’m not sure if I’d be able to win against him; not in physical strength, anyways.”

    “Well, I’m telling the truth—I’ll kick his ass for sure,” she said nonchalantly. “We only have one shot at this. After I beat him, do you think anyone else would be willing to go up against the person who took down Oaks?”

    “N-no!”

    “Exactly—no one would. For now, there’s no one as strong as Oaks, but—”

    “That’s not what I meant! Why—”

    Before Alice was able to finish her sentence, there was an interruption from the crowd.

    “Oiii! Here! I’d like to go up against him, please!” a cheery voice yelled.

    And then there was silence. Silence was the only aftermath of that single voice, excluding one woman’s irritation.

    “Hah? Which bastard is that?” Mystery muttered to herself.

    Almost as if on cue, an armored young man shuffled his way through the crowd uncaringly and took the adjudicator’s palm, opening it up and placing something on top of it.

    “Here. It should be more than enough admission money for a match of this scale. In exchange, I request that the loser pay back the amount tenfold.”

    The crowd stirred! No, it was more appropriate to say that they were beaming with excitement and newfound anticipation as the unknown man in white plate armor presented himself in the most abrupt manner! It was much like kindling fire by adding in firewood, except the firewood was one man’s action—challenging Oaks.

    “Oi, oi, that was the same bet I was planning to place!”

    “Y-you’re kidding, right?… I’m glad I didn’t fall for your convincing confidence…”

    In the end, the young man’s efforts were successful. Although there was initial doubt, Oaks had personally taken up the offer, clearly amused (and amazed) by the man’s sudden appearance and brimming confidence.

    “So his name’s Altus, huh? He’d better not leave after this—he’s my new target.”

    Alice made no comment.

    The heated match was to commence. The two contestants—Oaks and the armored young man—were now facing each other from opposite sides of the sturdy table, their arms flexed upon it. Soon, their hands met, and their fingers followed up by entwining together into grips of adversity tighter than a compressed book. While their right hands were locked together, their left hands were laid flat on the counter. Traditionally, matches would begin whenever the adjudicator sent forth a wave of electricity via lightning magic through the table; this signals the official start of the match where contestants would use their reaction times to release their left hand and go all out.

    “For some reason, I can’t tell who’s going to win,” Alice said, her voice slightly muffled by her sleeves. “That Altus person—he’s different. What do you think?”

    Alice turned, and found Mystery tuned in to the match. Her naturally sharp eyes were staring down the two contestants who stared down each other. Although nearly unnoticeable, her eyes showed slightly more interest—interest in a cool and relaxed manner. “...If seventh tier's his limit—he’s not going to last.”

    “Eh? Seventh tier? But for who?”

    And then, with his hand on one side of the wrestling table, the adjudicator sent forth an electric shock. The match officially began.

    There was nothing.

    The contestants’ arms didn’t move. The table didn’t move. Nothing moved. Silent like a butterfly; silent like a tree; silent like the sound a wall makes when nobody's around to hear it. Upon this puzzling sight, the entirety of the crowd presumed it to be Oaks’ doing once again, but only the two men currently contesting—and one other woman spectating—knew what happened instantly. Before long, it became evident to everyone else that it wasn’t just Oaks, but both of them! Both of the men refrained from taking the preemptive strike to thwart their opponent’s arm.

    “…Are you messing with me?” Oaks asked, his voice deep and intimidating. “What is the meaning of this?”

    “My, my, I guess this became awkward all of a sudden! Who knew that we were both trying to test each others’ strength!”

    “Do you think you’re achieving anything by doing this?!”

    “If you actually want to achieve something—you better start trying with all your might.”

    “What was that?!”

    Oaks couldn’t comprehend the young man in front him. His attitude thus far was anything short of pesky and unreadable. How annoying. For being one of the first person to place such an amusing bet and presenting it in such an amusing style, he was disappointing. So, Oaks decided to end it; or at least, he thought he could end it.

    His right arm moved, turning Altus’s arm to the side, but then—he struggled.

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    With all his being—Oaks struggled. An iron grip clung tighter to his hands with each passing moment that his muscles attempted to tear away at an attempt to struggle; to struggle so that the opposing arm would at least budge from where it was. Of course, that didn’t happen. His mind became tunnel-visioned to only one train of thought as he continued—but failed—to swing the limb of which he currently grasped to the side. His breathing slowly tipped to the edge instability, and sweat began forming from his face as all the gears in his head worked itself to concentrate on overcoming the task at hand. He had to do something.

    In this world, one’s physical strength depended primarily on two things—magic capacity, and physical enhancements. Physical strength could naturally be obtained by increasing one’s magic capacity, where physical strength would increase proportionally in relation to one’s magical capacity, or mana. Physical enhancements, on the other hand, aren’t classified as magic, but act as something in their own category—it allowed one to greatly increase their physical capabilities temporarily. Similar to the fact that anyone could pick up and master magic, anyone was able to pick up and begin learning physical enhancements. Without being overly complicated, physical enhancements essentially worked the same way as magic, but provided an entirely different category of effects all relating to, well—anything physical.

    Up until now, Oaks had been using numerous physical enhancements to bolster his overall body strength, muscle endurance, body stamina, and arm strength—all of which were of the fourth tier. Before his current match, Oaks had been presented with quite a few opponents where fifth tier physical enhancement was needed, and even fewer where sixth tier was needed.

    Altus was on a different league.

    Altus was currently trying to one-up him. He sensed that Oaks was attempting to go for the win, thus he had instantly activated a high tier of physical enhancement, forcing the larger man to struggle. Before he was to let Altus take the lead, he had to do some damage. For Oaks, the limit of his physical enhancement was the seventh tier. Letting no opportunities slip by, he simultaneously casted all upgraded versions of what he already had. An invigorating surge of energy passed through and shook throughout his inner being, and the effects were made immediate. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Oaks was brought forth anew with something reminiscent of adrenaline and newfound purpose to crush his opponent.

    There it was again—Oaks was taking the lead. Altus’s arm had no choice but to bend towards the direction of which the larger man’s arm took it, with Oaks obviously planning on taking it down to the tabletop. The victory was clearly his, with Altus’s hand coming down swiftly. It was almost there. Just one more push from Oaks, and then the very hand he grasped would face the same fate as the other eighty-one contestants before him.

    And then—he struggled. Again, his efforts were put to an abrupt stop.

    “Damn it! Why?! Why won’t it move?!” Oaks shouted.

    The crowd now clamored even more than it had when Altus declared his challenge to Oaks. Mixed amongst all the clamor was whispering, gossip, and bewildered expressions as everyone came to witness the unexpected scene of a wildly struggling Oaks. For Oaks, he was struggling as if to lift an entire building; for the audience, Altus was simply taking his time, sweat clearly having not formed on his face. The young man had yet to make a single movement of his arm.

    “Eh? It seems that’s the best you can do.”

    “Tch, y-you! You—”

    “Well, you’ll still have lots of money left over, so don’t hate me for this.”

    With one rapid movement, calm and flowing like that of a river, Altus turned the tides of the battle. More appropriately, the young man overwhelmed the battle not by turning the tides, but by summoning forth a raging flood of strength.

    “So, he actually won,” Alice said, thinking back to the aftermath of the fight.

    By now, the dark horse contestant named Altus had already taken down Oaks; in fact, he was currently collecting the pool money of which the adjudicator had prepared beforehand. The initially loud uproar which formed from the results of the match—namely, Oaks’s defeat—had gradually simmered down to excited whispers of the mysterious man and chatter about Oaks’s thunderstruck record.

    “Hey, kid. I want to ask you something.” the big man spoke, directing his questions towards one person in particular.

    “Hmm? Sure, what is it? If it’s anything too personal, I won’t be able to answer it, you know!” Altus said, cheery as ever.

    “Spare me most of the crap. Who are you? You’re not going to convince me that you’re just some guy from the street who decided to worm your way in, are you?”

    “Why’s that? Did I need to be someone specific in order take you down?”

    “You with your damn mouth! Answer my question already!”

    “But, If I remember correctly, you called me a fool. I don’t think there’s any reason to answer to someone who still hasn’t even realize that they’re the fool.”

    “Are you trying to—”

    “Hey, Oaks, was it?” he asked, his voice suddenly becoming serious. His smile faded. “You’re not as dumb as I think you are. You said that those who miscalculate others are fools, which isn’t bad—but what did you do when I acted against you? What did you do when I made myself annoying through your eyes?”

    “So what if you were just—”

    “I’m saying that all it took was just one miscalculation, and your career would’ve been over. It’s a big world out there, in case you didn’t know, and the amount of people who sit above you are literally countless. You’re a prideful adventurer among adventurers, but what you probably haven’t considered is that strong people can be found anywhere. You won’t be able to expect them, whether they’re an adventurer, traveler, or just someone walking along the street. In fact, one of the strongest person I know isn’t even an adventurer.”

    “Tch, are you my damn philosophy teacher, now?! Couldn't even answer a damn question! Fine, take your smug smile and be happy with it,” Oaks said, walking away.

    “As long as you at least learned something, I’m sure you’ll do fine!” Altus shouted to him, resuming to his jovial ways.

    Ignoring the exchange between Oaks and Altus, there was currently something bothering Alice. She most definitely recalled Mystery’s “prediction” for the match before it began, where it was mentioned that one person was to fail because seventh tier physical enhancement was their limit. How accurate was she? If so, how did she know?

        “Hey, Mystery,” she asked, turning her bright yellow eyes. “How did you know Oaks was going to lose?”

    With Alice’s intuition and experience from traveling, she was able to make out that something about Altus clearly separated him from the rest, although that was the extent. Because it wasn’t entirely plausible to evaluate someone’s strength and ability once they’ve shown it to you (or use it on you), people had to come up with different ways to assess power. In Alice’s special case, she simply only needed to rely on her unique innate ability, although it worked quite differently.

    “Well, it was intuition, I guess.”

    “Is that... really it?”

    “Yeah.”

    “I suppose that’s not really reliable…”

    “Anyways, I still need to challenge him. You need to help me with this, Alice,” she said casually. Then, without waiting, she began walking towards Altus.

    “H-hey, hold on a moment! Didn’t you see what he just did?!” Alice exclaimed, walking behind Mystery.  “You know, you're really starting to—”

    “Like I said, I’ll make us some really easy money. All I need is the admission money.”

    Should she grab her? Maybe she should grab her. Alice naturally learned to prevent herself from coming into physical contact with people and acquaintances, but for the current situation—she was tempted.

    “W-why are you so insistent on doing this to me, geez!”

    “Eh? ‘Geez’,?" she remarked amusedly. "That's rare coming from you. I didn't realize I was pushing you that far. My bad, Alice.”

    “Never mind that! What makes you think I’d give you the money if you walked up to him, anyways?”

    “Well, it’ll work out, somehow.”

    Alice was exasperated! And by this one woman in particular. Truly, how preposterous! Maybe she should buy her less food next time! Maybe she should replace her robe with something less attractive! Or maybe she should make them sleep in the same bed at night so she’d be discomforted by Alice’s cold aura! Yeah—that’ll teach her not to behave like this anymore!

    It was too late, for Mystery had already appeared behind the man known as Altus with great speed!

    “Oi, Altus, was it? I'll be challenging you, so let’s work something out,” she said, her voice completely devoid of hesitation. She was still composed as ever.

    Alice finally caught up, but again—it was too late!

    “Hmm? Yeah, that’s my name, but wh...” He stopped. Upon turning around to meet the owner of voice which declared the challenge, he stopped. Immediately afterwards, he managed to utter one thing. “Eh?”

    Preposterous! Altus—the one who defeated Oaks as if he was an ant armed with a toothpick—was currently sweating from his temples. It was the kind of sweating one would have from finding out that their steak had been cooked ultra-rare. From no more than just a few seconds after having turned around to meet Mystery, Altus seemed to have comically shrunk into a lifeless doll whose soul was barely attempting to contain itself. His hands only froze, not moving an angstrom as his mouth inadvertently fell open. More and more was his demeanor reminiscent of a slug in comparison to the woman who’d be the oncoming boot that’d stomp it.

    “E-eh?!” Altus uttered once more.

    For once, it wasn’t only Alice who was in surprise as her companion's eyes also lighted up. This person—why was he so surprised?

    “M-master?! W-why are you here?!”