Fight, fight

My training was over.

The system coughed up more useless bullshit — especially that gem:

[Running with Lancer – Rank B].

Kill me.

I swallowed my rage.Barely.Then dragged myself to lunch.

And there it was.

No egg.

No golden orb of salvation.

Just cold porridge and dry-ass bread that could double as a blunt weapon.

Again.

And of course, Okabe and Anna were chatting away like I didn't exist — like this was their cute little isekai picnic.

I stared at my plate, fuming.

We're Heroes, aren't we?

People are supposed to bow when we walk by.We're the kingdom's last hope, blah blah blah.

So why the f*ck are we eating battlefield rations?!

They must have ingredients.There's probably a royal pantry packed with meat, spices, fresh bread…Unless—

Maybe the castle's chef is just hot garbage.

I snapped.

"Hey. You — woman. Anna. Can you cook?"

"Um… no?"

Anna blinked at me, confused.

I stared right into her eyes. Cold. Disgusted.

"What the hell do you mean 'no'? Aren't girls supposed to belong in the kitchen? How do you not know how to cook?"

She looked at me like I was clinically brain-dead.Like I was a roach trying to recite Shakespeare.

That look — that look —Something inside me snapped.

How dare she look at me like that?

Like I'm the stupid one?

Like I'M the joke?

I clenched my jaw, rage bubbling in my chest.She should be grateful I'm even talking to her.She should know her place.

"Hey—what the hell are you looking at me like that for?"

I jabbed a finger at her face.Once. Twice. Harder.

She didn't flinch.That smug little stare was still glued to her face like she thought she was better than me.

Then, of course, he showed up.

Okabe.

Captain Morality.

Sword Jesus.

He stepped in like some righteous NPC trying to trigger a friendship route.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

I turned, smiled.

"Oh? Four-Eyes grew a pair?"

And then — I punched him.

No warning. No hesitation.A full-force blow, right to his smug little glasses-wearing face.

His head snapped back like a bobblehead on crack.I didn't stop there.

See, I'm not just some schoolyard bully.

I'm trained.

I fight dirty.

Dirty boxing. Elbows, clinches, pressure.

I hate boxing. Too clean. Too fair.

But dirty boxing?

Now that's art.

Four-Eyes hit the ground hard.

I didn't stop.

I kept swinging.

Fists. Elbows. Palms. Whatever I had.

His face started turning red — not anime blush red, but burst-capillaries, broken-nose, full-swell crimson.

His glasses? Gone.Shattered.

See, rule number one in street fights?

Never wear glasses.

Break the frame, and the shards fly straight into your own damn eyes.

And that's exactly what happened to our "Hero."

Blood. Screaming. Panic.Beautiful.

Anna tried to stop me — hands on my shoulder, screaming my name.

I just shoved her back.

Then I walked toward her, step by step, eyes locked.

"You think I'm harmless, huh? 'Cause I'm quiet? That I'm weak?"

"You think I won't snap just because I'm supposed to be the Hero?"

Her eyes widened.Good.They should be afraid.

Then—A sound.

Movement behind me.Quick. Sharp. Heavy.

I turned my head.Slow.

It was Okabe.

Standing.

Barely.

Face swollen like mashed meat, one eye half-shut, blood dripping down his chin.

And in his hands?

A wooden sword.

The air around him shifted.No — it vibrated. Like heat waves, but colder. Focused. Sharp.

[Swordsmanship – Rank D]

Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.

I blinked.

This loser? With his face turned into ground beef?Now he's pulling out anime energy like he's some final boss?

Where the hell did he even get that sword?

Was he hiding it up his ass?

Did he clench and draw like some kind of medieval magician?

Because I swear to god — that sword wasn't there a second ago.