As the door swung open, a tidal wave of cheers crashed over Zi-Cheng, the sheer intensity rattling his chest. He instinctively steadied himself, eye sweeping forward the long flight of stairs that led to the heart of the action.

It was a black stage, a stark contrast against the bright overhead lights. Two young fighters clashed with unrelenting ferocity, fists and kicks colliding in rapid succession. Every movement was sharp, precise, and filled with the raw hunger to win.

“Wait… this entire crowd… are they all students from the combat academy?” Zi-Cheng asked, his voice barely carrying over the deafening roars.

“That’s right, and this is just their practice match.” Victor smirked as he replied.

Zi-Cheng’s eyes darted across the stands. The students were split in two factions, blue-clad on one side, and white-clad on the other, each section moving as one, shouting in unison for their representative in the ring.

(White for the Privies, and Blue for the Skinnies huh….)

He recalled Candace mentioning the divide, and now witnessing it firsthand, the sheer weight of the rivalry between the noble and scholarship students filled the air within the stadium. Every dodge, every strike on the stage was met with thunderous reactions, their emotions surging in sync with their chosen fighter’s every move.

Then, a sudden chill cut through the air.

Zi-Cheng tensed. Frost curled from the noble student’s lips, his breath a ghostly white against the heat of the arena. A cold, blue glow erupted from his eyes, the temperature around him plummeted.

“Watch closely now.” Victor tapped on Zi-Cheng’s shoulder, his voice low, almost reverent. “This, is a combat ability.”

(Wait...what….!?)

Before the thought could form, a flash of emerald light flared to life from the other side of the ring.

Zi-Cheng’s eyes snapped to the other fighter, the blue-clad student. Energy surged around him, raw and untamed, radiating with sheer force.

The two locked eyes. The world narrowed between them.

A single breath.

A twitch of fabric.

The edge of the white uniform fluttered ——

【Heaven’s Frost — Frigid Lotus】 (【霜天 – 冰蓮華】）

The frost bloomed.

In an instant, ice spiraled up from beneath the noble student’s feet, an intricate lotus of frost curling around him, encasing his entire body in crystalline armor. The blue lights in his eyes grew, the temperature plummeted further, a biting chill cutting through the arena.

Then — shatter.

The frozen lotus exploded, shards of ice bursting in every direction. But the noble student was gone, vanished within the cascade of frost.

Across the ring, the blue-clad student’s eyes widened. He emerald aura expanded outward in an instant, weaving itself into a massive net of light — a barrier!

The ice fragments crashed against the webbed shield. A calculated move, a perfect defense.

But then —

From within the shimmering net, he reappeared.

The noble student stood inside the barrier.

“Tch—” The blue-clad fighter gritted his teeth. “You nobles and your cheap tricks.”

His hands moved in a blur, fingers snapping as his aura shifted, twisting, constricting — 【Web Snare】 (【蛛網束縛】）

The energy net collapsed inward.

Like a predator’s jaws, it snapped shut, cutting off all escape routes. The entire arena tensed—victory was his.

Or so he thought.

In the very instant before the net sealed completely, the noble student smirked.

A cold, sharp gleam flickered in his eyes.

“Not yet.”

A whisper. A breath. A killing intent as sharp as steel.

The suffocating frost around him vanished, coiling inward — converging in his outstretched palm.

And in that moment—

Ice became a spear.

【Heaven’s Frost — Cryolance】 (【 霜天 – 玄冰槍】）

The energy net descended like tendrils tightening from all direction, ready to ensnare its prey, but the Cryolance was faster.

With a burst of icy precision, the spear surged forward, its tip aimed straight for the blue-clad student’s right eye. Time seemed to freeze, the sharp edge of the lance glinting under the arena lights as it closed the final inches.

And then—

“Enough!”

A voice like rolling thunder cracked through the tension as an elder leapt onto the stage, his presence commanding instant silence. Despite his white beard and weathered features, his muscular frame exuded strength that defied his age. With the edge of his palm, he delivered a fierce strike to the ice lance. The impact shattered it into a cascade of shimmering shards, the fragments scattering through the air like falling stars before dissolving into vapor.

“The match is over! The victor is Eric Clifford!”

(Wait… Eric Clifford!?)

Zi-Cheng’s gaze snapped to the triumphant fighter. It was him, the noble who had tossed him a gold coin in the street. Not out of generosity, but as a meaningless display, a gesture of pity meant to impress the academy’s most beautiful maiden, Sheryl Heinz.

He remembered the pair clearly. Neither had given him so much as a second glance. Just indifference and cold shoulders.

Yet, despite the arena being packed with students, Sheryl Heinz was nowhere to be seen.

The elder raised Eric’s arm high, his declaration echoing through the arena like a judge’s gavel.

For a moment, the crowd held its breath, the intensity of the battle still clinging to the air.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Then—an eruption.

A tidal wave of cheers crashed through the arena, shaking its very walls. The white-clad students roared in triumph, their voices a victorious anthem. Even the blue-clad section, though subdued, murmured grudging acknowledgments. The match was settled, but the tension still lingered in the charged air.

On stage, Eric remained unfazed by the deafening praise. His opponent, though defeated, clenched his fists, head bowed—not in shame, but in burning determination.

“Not bad,” Victor mused, arms crossed. “As one would expect from the Clifford family—mastering not just one, but two forms of Heaven’s Frost at his age.”

Zi-Cheng’s ears perked. “Forms? I thought that was just combat ability?”

Victor smirked. “You really thought it was that simple?”

Zi-Cheng narrowed his eyes.

“Combat ability is the foundation, the raw power inherited through bloodline,” Victor explained, his tone casual but laced with knowledge. “But those with rare abilities refine and pass down techniques to harness them more effectively. Those techniques are known as ‘forms.’”

(So that’s why nobles dominated the arena...)

“But Heaven’s Frost is particularly difficult to master,” Victor continued. “Only Eric’s great-grandfather has ever wielded all five forms.”

(Fi...five forms!?)

Zi-Cheng had thought his lack of a combat ability was the only thing separating him from the fighters in this world. But now? It was like standing at the base of a mountain, only to be told that a deep chasm existed beyond the steep cliffs.

His thoughts drifted to his Developer Mode. Leaving aside the fourth ability, which he had yet to understand, the three he did know, Remake, Construct, and Terraform, weren’t exactly combat-oriented. If he had to pit them against an opponent like Eric Clifford, it’d be like trying to win a Street Fighter match by playing as a Minecraft character.

(What’s the point of training with Victor, then? I might as well head back, lay low, and finish whatever commission Golden Clover tosses my way….)

“Take it easy and watch the next match, kid,” Victor said, as if he had already figured out what was running through Zi-Cheng’s head. “Fighting ain’t just about throwing flashy abilities at each other, you’ll see.”

Victor had barely finished the sentence when an explosive cheer erupted from the arena, shaking the very air with its intensity.

(Guess there’s no getting out of this….)

Zi-Cheng sighed in resignation and shifted his gaze back to the ring just in time to see a nimble figure leap onto the stage, landing with the effortless grace of a cat. Her high twin-tails bounced with every movement, and that energetic, mischievous glint in her eyes —

(No way….!)

Standing confidently at the center of the stage was none other than Candace Aldar, the girl who had called him “Mr. Beggar” the other day.

Zi-Cheng recalled how she declared that she would take down Sheryl Heinz, the academy’s number-one beauty, and according to Candace, a total stuck-up begging for a good beating. And now, here she was, casually stretching on the stage as if this match was nothing more than a simple warm-up.

But that wasn’t even the most surprising part.

“Winnie! What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be at the music festival rehearsal today?”

Candace suddenly shouted toward the audience, her voice cutting clear across the packed arena.

Zi-Cheng followed her gaze, landing on a girl with long pink hair tied up with a ribbon. The moment she realized the spotlight was on her, she shrank into her seat, looking utterly mortified.

(Wait… isn’t that the girl who walked past me humming that song earlier?)

His thought barely had a moment to settle before a sharp, condescending scoff cut through the noisy crowd.

“Hmph, so much for Idore’s ‘star pupil’. If you’ve got time to mess around with your little fan club, you’re clearly not ready to fight.”

Even across the ring, Gilm Pardson’s sneer was unmistakable. He twirled his rapier between his fingers, his golden locks so meticulously styled that they looked almost unnatural. From the way he carried himself, it was obvious that he didn’t see Candace as a worthy opponent.

Candace, however, looked more annoyed than insulted.

She barely spared him a glance, her gaze sweeping the crowd one last time before she clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Tch. Sheryl Heinz isn’t here today? What a letdown.”

And then, smack!

A sharp flick landed right on her forehead.

“Ow!?”

Candace reeled back, rubbing the sore spot, only to find herself face-to-face with her mentor, the very same elder who shattered the Cryolance, Idore Usman.

“Focus,” the gruff-looking elder grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, I got this, Master. This guy’s a warm-up at best.”

Idore exhaled through his nose, he knew too well that his words would go in one ear and out the other, so with a shake of his head, he turned away and raised his voice for the crowd instead.

“Next match: Second-year, Candace Aldar versus third-year, Gilm Pardson!”

The arena erupted. Cheers and whistles crashed through the air as both fighters strode toward the center.

“Begin!”

The moment Idore’s hand slice through the air, Gilm lunged forward, his rapier a silver blur aimed straight at Candace’s heart.

“How dare a commoner like you run your mouth before nobility!”

The strike was precise and deadly, yet Candace barely flinched.

With a scoff, she twisted her torso, slipping past the tip of the rapier by a hair’s breadth. Then – bam! A brutal knee shot up from below, drive straight into Gilm’s gut, the impact so strong it knocked the wind out of him. His body lurched backward, his grip faltering on his weapon.

But Candace wasn’t done.

Just a her foot touched the ground, she launched forward, closing the gap in an instant – her fist ready in motion.

A barrage of punches rained down like a relentless storm, each strike fluid yet devastating. Gilm barely managed to parry, his rapier flailing under the sheer force of the assault.

“And what’s wrong with being a commoner?”

He had no answer.

Desperation flashed in Gilm’s eyes as he dove to the side, rolling out of the onslaught’s path. But then a heavy fish crashed into the ground just centimeters from his face, sending cracks webbing through the platform beneath them.

A single beat of silence.

Then, the arena exploded.

The blue-clad students erupted in cheers, their voices shaking the very walls. Candace had turned the tide in an instant, not with noble lineage, not with inherited abilities, but with sheer skill and instinct.

Meanwhile, Gilm staggered back, his breath ragged, his knuckles white around the rapier’s hilt. Candace can see his anger through the trembling of this body, his eyes barely able to contain the rage within.

Exactly where she wanted him to be.

She smirked.

“The angrier your opponent gets, the calmer you must be.”

Idore’s words echoed in her mind as she tightened her grip.

Across the ring, Gilm leveled his rapier once more. His stance looked the same, but Candace could feel that the air had changed, the pressure so faint, yet so sharp she could feel it slithering toward her, hunting for an opening.

She narrowed her eyes, her breath steady, her sense sharpened through her skin, feeling the invisible weight of an incoming strike.

And it came.

Gilm lunged again, his rapier blurred, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. A streak of iridescent light shimmered through the air – then split.

Six blades!

The piercing howl of steel slicing through wind filled the arena.

【Swift Thrust – Windchime Strike】(【雨燕 – 風鳴閃】)

Swifts – birds famed for their blinding speed mid-flight. A technique bearing their name was no less terrifying. This trust moved six times faster than an ordinary rapier thrust, six simultaneous strikes with intent to kill.

Yet —

"A combat ability’s best used early when you need to gauge an opponent stronger than you, or when you’ve got an even bigger ace waiting in reserve. Either way, it’s always a gamble."

Victor had barely finished speaking when the impact landed.

A sickening, skull-rattling crack.

Zi-Cheng flinched as the crowd gasped.

One moment, Gilm’s rapier was inches from Candace’s heart, the next, his vision exploded into white as Candace flipped mid-air, her entire body turned upside down with her heel crashing into his skull with the force of an iron hammer.

“She read his attack…” Zi-Cheng muttered, like it was straight out of a manga or an anime.

“She felt the sword intent before it took form.” Victor’s voice held a note of approval. “Combat abilities are powerful, but if your opponent sees through them, they’re just another opening waiting to be exploited.”

Gilm barely had time to regain his footing before Candace closed the gap.

A sharp elbow slammed into his ribs, followed by a vicious shoulder check. At this range, his rapier was useless, and Candace made sure she took full advantage of that.

Before he could react, his feet left the ground.

The next thing he knew, he was soaring off the stage.

Silence.

For a single, suspended heartbeat, the entire arena stood frozen.

The crowd, who had been roaring just seconds ago, now gaped in stunned disbelief.

Candace used nothing but raw technique, and defeated someone charging at her with combat ability.

Undeniable, pure talent.

“Fool! You overdid it again….” Idore looked furious as he walked over, rubbing his temple.

“Master, even a lion goes all out to hunt a rabbit,” she chimed, her usual cheeky grin firmly in place. “You told me to always give my best, right? I’m just being a good student~.”

Candace’s twin-tails bounced as she spoke, radiating the same cheerful energy that made her impossible to stay mad at. Idore exhaled, shaking his head before finally raising her arm.

“The match is over! The winner is, Candace Aldar!”

Once again the stadium erupted, and perhaps even more so than the previous fight.

The blue-clad section exploded the moment the announcement rang out. Cheers, whistles, and thunderous applause merged into a deafening roar, the sheer wave of excitement was almost tangible, like a wildfire that spread through the stands.

Victor crossed his arms, nodding in approval. “Combat isn’t just about techniques or power. Victory isn’t decided by who has the stronger ability.” He cast a knowing glance at Zi-Cheng. “That’s your first lesson, Ventus.”

Yet, Zi-Cheng wasn’t listening.

His eyes were locked onto the stage, his mind completely absorbed in what he had just witnessed.

For the first time since stepping into the arena, he felt an emotion unknown stirred deep inside him.

The way the crowd roared as one, their voices blurring the lines between rivalry and unity, merging into something electric. It was the essence that built the foundations of the human kingdom.

(And, I’m supposed to summon the hero who created all of this….?)