The S-Class Mage is a Gyaru!?-Chapter 91: Arcane Jungle, Part Eighteen

"BEGIN!"

[Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.]

I barely have time to blink before Marcus is on me, his magic slamming into my hastily erected shield like a goddamn freight train. The force of it sends me skidding back. Almost instantly, I’m at risk of getting pushed off my circle!

I’ve spent a lot of time pushing myself in the gym. The force that I’m feeling right now? The gym can’t even compare.

[Shit, he’s strong!]

I grit my teeth, pouring more mana into my shield. It flickers, wavers, but holds. For now.

Marcus grins at me from across the circle, the cocky prick. He’s not even breaking a sweat.

"Mmm, not bad little kitty!" His voice booms across the arena. "But how long can you keep this up?"

[I’ll show you a little kitty, you arrogant fuck.]

With my teeth gritted, I snarl, pushing back against his magic, trying to adjust to the amount of force I’m dealing with here. The air crackles, sparks flying from where our spells collide. It’s a raw, primal battle of wills.

But then he flexes - yes, actually fucking flexes, his abs rippling like waves of water for the cameras - and a fresh fuck-ton of mana force slams into me like a tsunami.

[... Jesus,] I think, wide-eyed. [How much mana does this guy have? Is he S-Class or something?]

No, no, I doubt it. If he was, he wouldn’t have been placed against me. I wouldn’t be holding on now, either. I’d be on my ass, outside of the circle by now for sure.

No... This is just what regular talent looks like.

I stumble, my shield shattering like glass.

His next spell catches me square in the chest, almost like a straight-up punch made of mana, and sends me flying. I hit the ground hard, rolling, before willing myself to come to a halt. I end up just inches from the edge of my ward circle.

[Close.] 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"Nao!" I hear Haruka cry out, her voice cutting through the roar of the crowd. "Get up babe! You got this!"

Easy for her to say. She’s not the one getting her ass handed to her by a walking men’s magazine cover model.

But, all I can do is try harder. Literally, that’s all I can do. I push myself up just in time to block another blast. To be honest, my head’s ringing and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna wake up with the worst headache ever tomorrow.

But I’m still pushing.

[Guess that’s the good part of spending so much time in the gym,] I smile wrily. [Whether it’s an actual punch in the face or a mana-made punch in the face, I can take it. I think. So, come on, Sumi. Get your shit together.]

I shake off the ringing in my ears, blinking away the spots dancing in my vision. Across the circle, Marcus is posing for the cameras, still flexing his stupid muscles like he’s at a goddamn bodybuilding competition instead of a magical duel.

"Feeling tired, little tiger?" He taunts, bouncing his pecs in a way that makes the crowd go wild. "I can give you a moment to catch your breath if you need it."

[Oh, fuck you very much.]

I push myself back to my feet. Everything hurts. My head, my pride, my everywhere. But I’ll be damned if I let this ab-happy asshole see me sweat.

"Nah, I’m good," I mutter, and I try to regain my composure. "Come on. Or, are you tired already?"

Marcus blinks, thrown off his game for a second. It’s like he’s completely stunned that I’m asking such a question.

Behind me, I hear Haruka whoop with laughter.

Before I can process much of anything, Marcus is coming at me again, a fresh barrage of spells slamming into my hastily reinforced shield.

[Fuck fuck fuck!]

I grit my teeth, digging deep for every scrap of mana I’ve got. My shield holds, but barely. I can feel it cracking again, feel the raw force of Marcus’s power beating against it like a battering ram.

He’s relentless, hammering at my defenses with a single-minded focus that would be impressive if it wasn’t so fucking annoying. Spell after spell, blast after blast, each one hitting harder than the last.

[Shit. At this rate...]

Man, I’m gonna lose.

I’m gonna get my ass handed to me in front of the whole fucking school, in front of Haruka and Akari and Reina. In front of everyone.

"Rrrrgh!" I growl, trying to find more strength.

[No. NO. Fuck that noise.]

I’ve been here before. Not in a magical dueling ring, obviously, but in the gym. I’ve felt this burn in my muscles, this pressure in my chest.

I am not going to quit.

"What’s wrong, kitty cat?" Marcus is strutting around his circle now, playing to the crowd. "Running out of steam already?"

[Oh, I’ll show you steam.] I inhale slowly. [Alright, you ab-happy fuck. Let’s... Huh?]

I stop.

Something is... weird right now.

Am I seeing this right? I can’t tell.

Marcus is still strutting, still posing, but there’s something off in his rhythm. A little hitch in his step, a falter in his flow. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

[Hm?]

My eyes flick to Akari in the stands.

They gyaaru’s making some truly ridiculous gestures, flailing her arms like she’s directing air traffic. Or having a seizure. But, as she points at Marcus repeatedly, it feels like the message is clear.

My eyes widen.

[He’s stalling.]

Marcus blew his load too early. He thought he’d have me by now, he thought I’d be on my ass by this point.

Now, he’s trying to buy time, trying to regenerate his mana.

[Big mistake, pretty boy.]

I grin, showing my fangs.

[LET’S DO THIS!!!]

I gather my power, pulling whatever magic I’ve got left in me. The mana surges through me, hot and heady.

"Hey Marcus!" I call, my voice ringing clear across the arena. "Catch!"

And I blast him.

"Huh?" He asks, baffled before he sees what’s happening and puts up a shield.

The shield shatters in a fucking instant! My bolt strikes Marcus right in his forehead.

Marcus staggers, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping.

[I... I got a hit!] My eyes are just as wide as his. [Come on!]

So, I blast forward again.

I pour it on, sending mana bolt after mana bolt up that asshole. Obviously, I ain’t got nothing flashy to work with. I’m not Nakamura, I’m not Haruka. But, with Marcus having fucked up this badly, I don’t need anything flashy. Raw power should be more than enough!

Marcus’ shield crumples under the pressure like wet tissue paper. He’s backpedaling now, all his earlier swagger gone. He’s on the defensive, throwing up half-assed barriers, one after another as they all break.

"Yes!" I hear Nakamura whoop from the stands. "Get him, Nao!"

The crowd’s going wild. No doubt not a single soul in that audience saw this shit coming.

But I barely hear them. My world’s narrowed to the pounding of my pulse, the rush of my breath, the electric crackle of mana flowing through me.

[Come on, come on, keep it up!] I tell myself. [That guy’s more talented than you. That guy probably has more mana than you. This is not how this fight was supposed to go. But, you lucked into the one fucking timeline where he premature-ejaculated his way into a losing position. Don’t waste this opportunity!]

Knowing this is going very, very wrong for him, Marcus goes for a counter.

Instantly, I see what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to force me out of the offensive. He’s trying to relieve the pressure I’m putting on him. Like when a boxer’s on the ropes and just starts swinging.

[The answer?] I smirk. [Press the attack some more!]

So, not bothering to put up any shields, taking his hits head on, I stay on him. My mana slowly whittles away at the guy, bam, bam BAM, hit after hit, force bolt after force bolt.

He struggles, but, nah, it’s futile. I have him right where I want him.

He stops casting.

So do I.

He’s out of mana, it seems. I’ve got mana for one more spell.

I lean forward, my eyes locked on his. This close, I can see the fear, the disbelief. The dawning realization of just how badly he fucked up.

We make eye contact for a solid four, maybe five seconds as neither of us do anything.

Then, I duck my head in and put my hands forward, throwing one more focused blast aimed right at those pretty abs of his.

Boom!

He goes flying, right out of the ward circle.

Game. Set. Match.

There’s a moment of silence. Like no one can particularly believe how this just played out.

Then, the crowd goes apeshit.

I fall to my knees, spent.

[Holy shit,] I blink, sweat falling down my cheeks and onto the wooden floor. [Holy shit. I did it. I won.]