Since this was a death match, Instructor Oliver provided each fighter with a real sword and a dagger.

As Ryan stepped toward the ring, his mind raced. How should I approach this fight? A single wound could be fatal, leading to blood loss, pain, exhaustion, and eventual death. This wasn't some grand story where warriors clashed blades endlessly before unleashing their ultimate technique.

This was real. A fight between mortals.

No special techniques, no superhuman endurance—just skill, strategy, and survival.

Ryan knew he had to end the fight in one or two strikes.

But there was a problem.

He couldn't rely on the unorthodox moves that had worked before. By now, everyone knew about his unpredictable fighting style. Bill might have even prepared counters. If Ryan wasn't careful, he could easily fall into a trap.

As Ryan stepped into the ring, his eyes met Bill's.

Confidence.

Bill looked sure of himself. But why? Where did that confidence come from?

All around them, students and instructors watched with eager anticipation. Most of them wanted Ryan dead.

Not because of any deep hatred—though some certainly held grudges—but because his death meant one less competitor.

In this brutal system, every student knew that as long as someone else died, their own survival chances increased. For the instructors, it was simple entertainment.

Bill might have been overconfident, but Ryan was confident too.

Unlike Bill, who underestimated his opponent, Ryan's confidence came from his gold finger ability. It didn't grant overwhelming physical strength, but it enhanced his memory, analytical thinking, problem-solving skills, and reflexes. His intelligence had sharpened significantly, and thanks to Limitless Star, even his body had improved.

As both fighters took their stances, Instructor Oliver raised his hand.

"Begin!"

At the signal, Ryan and Bill moved cautiously toward each other.

Then, in an instant, they accelerated.

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Blades clashed with a loud clang! Bill's eyes widened in shock as he felt the power behind Ryan's strike.

He's this strong?!

Ryan, however, remained calm.

Quickly adjusting, he took a step back, lowered his sword to absorb the impact, and immediately swung horizontally—aiming to cut open Bill's stomach.

But Bill reacted fast, stepping back just in time.

Then, in a completely unexpected move, he threw his dagger straight at Ryan!

Ryan's eyes widened. Since when did the instructors teach this?!

He realized immediately—Bill had learned this from him. Ryan had used similar dirty tricks in the past, and now they were being used against him.

With no time to think, Ryan barely managed to block the incoming dagger with his own. But the sudden move threw him off balance.

Before he could recover, Bill was already rushing toward him, sword raised.

A direct retreat wasn't possible.

Instead, Ryan dropped to the ground, barely dodging the blade.

But Bill was relentless. His sword swung down again, aiming for Ryan's shoulder.

Ryan blocked it—but in that instant, he made a split-second decision.

He let go of his sword.

Reaching up, he grabbed the handle of Bill's sword with his right hand.

Bill gasped as Ryan suddenly yanked him forward.

His footing broke. His balance shattered.

And Ryan didn't hesitate.

With a swift thrust, he drove his dagger into Bill's neck.

Blood spurted out as Bill's body collapsed.

Ryan immediately jumped backward, avoiding any desperate counterattack.

Bill twitched violently on the ground, his life fading away.

The entire camp was silent.

The students and instructors stared, stunned by Ryan's quick thinking and ruthless efficiency.

Some instructors were impressed, but most looked disappointed.

Not because Ryan had fought poorly.

But because he had survived.

The students, too, felt frustration.

Why couldn't they both have died? If they both died means there's one less students have to die in future.

Ryan stood there, panting, staring at the first person he had ever killed.

Bill's body twitched, his eyes filled with terror and pain. Even as death took him, Ryan could see it—the desperate will to live.

He clenched his fists.

This was what it meant to fight for survival.

To grow stronger, he had to face death head-on.

Bill's body finally stilled.

Instructor Oliver stepped forward and declared, "Winner—Ryan!"

An instructor quickly dragged Bill's corpse away, and the matches continued as if nothing had happened.

As the fights progressed, Ryan noticed something—

The students weren't giving it their all.

Unlike the morning exam, where they had fought for their lives, here, they felt safe. The fear of death had paralyzed them instead of pushing them forward.

The instructors noticed it too, their expressions darkening.

They had hoped to ignite the students' bloodlust with this match, but it had the opposite effect. Still, they couldn't kill too many students recklessly—the Viscount needed soldiers.

As the first round ended, the second round began.

When Ryan's turn came, his next opponent looked terrified.

Ryan understood. After watching the death match, his opponent wasn't focused on winning—he was focused on surviving.

For a brief moment, Ryan considered throwing the match.

But he didn't.

He fought. He won.

As the tournament progressed, Ryan learned different fighting styles, tactics, and weaknesses.

By the end, his record stood:

Three wins, two losses.

He had won against mentally broken opponents and lost when exhaustion caught up to him.

But it didn't bother him.

Winning too much would draw unwanted attention.

As the final matches concluded, exhaustion was evident in everyone.

The students were physically and mentally drained. Even the instructors looked fatigued.

Instructor Oliver stepped forward and addressed them all.

"With today's matches, the first two months of exams have ended. Seven students have died."

His voice was calm.

"Next month, three more will die—those who perform the worst."

Tension spread through the students.

"Do your best. Your lives depend on it. But remember—after hardship comes glory. Pain is temporary. Victory is forever. Disperse."

With that, the instructors left.

The students returned to their bunks in silence.

Dinner was eaten quietly. No celebrations. No chatter.

The next day would bring more training, more fighting, more survival.

But one thing had changed.

Friendship among the students was fading.

In this place, the only way to stay alive

—

Was to be the best.

Because in the end—

Anything could happen.