The atmosphere in the gym was charged with an air of dedication. Drops of sweat formed rivulets down my temples, evidence of the intense exertion poured into every kick. The capoeira techniques flowed one after the other—Armada, Ponteria, Quiexada—each movement a manifestation of countless hours spent perfecting the art. The taekwondo kicks followed suit—the front, back, crescent, axe, side, flying side, and the pièce de résistance, the ten eighty-degree finisher. Each execution carried not just physical precision but a mental discipline honed over time. "OUS!" echoed with every strike, a practiced exhalation, a release of CO2 that had become second nature. Megumi, my mentor when it came to this, nodded approvingly. "There! That's what I like to see! All those kicks had pretty good form!" His commendation was a validation of the dedication invested in mastering each technique.
Transitioning seamlessly, it was time to exhibit my boxing prowess. Megumi demanded, "Now let's see your punching! I want to see a combination of every one of your boxing punches!" With measured pace, I executed each move—left jab flowing into the cross, a textbook one-two combo, transitioning into the lead hook, seamlessly followed by the rear hook, culminating in an overhand, a lead uppercut, and a devastating rear uppercut. Each strike was deliberate, the refined strength and speed I was unable to bring out before, now brought out fully by these attacks.
Megumi patted me on the back, "You're done, Oren. You didn't show me your blocking or dodging, but you have a skill that relates to blocking, right?" Ah, I guess I showed him once before. Legs quivering and hands numb, I responded, "Yeah, I also have a skill related to dodging." With the final session between us ended, Megumi slowly gathered his things, "Oren, you're a prodigy. Now I can't speak to how much you can improve from now, but if there were five levels in combat; beginner, novice, intermediate, advanced, and master, you'd be at a fair intermediate level. You went from novice to intermediate in a month, that's a sign." Positioned at an intermediate level within his assessment, the leaps I'd made in a mere month were recognized—thank you, Megumi.
I turned to Megumi, anticipation evident in my voice. "I will be participating as Rank Nine. When will the tournament bracket be released?" As he made his way towards the door, he paused, reaching into his bag and retrieving his school-issued tablet. With a swift motion, he pointed to it, but he was too far for me to see. "It's already been released—an hour ago on the tablets," he stated, a sense of urgency in his tone. "I checked it during our break." The glow of the screen revealed the information I sought, the tournament brackets laid out in detail, each name poised for the impending challenge.
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This is the bracket for the Gifted Tournament students! If any one is a no-show, the bracket will be updated accordingly! For all participants, arrive
at no later than four! Day One will have the first three fights.
Rank One: Time vs Rank Ten: The Colossal
Rank Two: The Heart vs Rank Six: Silent Storm
Rank Three: God Fist vs Rank Twelve: The Blaze Dragon
Rank Five: The Red Samurai vs Rank Four: The Prodigy
Rank Seven: The Demon vs Rank Nine: The System's Chosen
Rank Eight: Tiger's Roar vs Rank Eleven: Limitless Resolve
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As I mulled over the upcoming tournament, a surge of frustration bubbled within me. "Why only the first three fights?" I pondered aloud, my thoughts echoing concerns about the fairness of the matchups. The event wasn't just about combat; it was a spectacle for the parents of the participating children. Would they find the matches entertaining enough? The discrepancy between Rank One and Rank Ten seemed daunting, a potential mismatch that nagged at the back of my mind. Not my problem, I guess. I dismissed the issue, knowing I had my own challenges to focus on.
The lingering dissatisfaction from my recent streak of luck tainted my mood. After using the lottery skill over this last month, my luck has been terrible. The rewards bestowed upon me were far from desirable—only upgrades in strength and speed. A sense of frustration seeped in as I bemoaned the repeated increments in strength, multiple mere +2s, disappointing in comparison to what I had hoped for.
Snatching my backpack and stepping out of the building, a sense of anticipation crept in despite the setbacks. The culmination of martial arts training had left me invigorated, my determination unshaken. And there it was—the quest board materializing before me, good.
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Quest 7: Martial Arts Training (COMPLETED)
You BARELY reached intermediate level, but..
this is good for now.
Rewards:
3000 points
+10 Strength
+10 Speed
Tips:
Don't stop training just because the quest ended.
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Without a moment's delay, I dove into the process of upgrading. While skills held significance, I realized the immediate necessity to strengthen my foundational stats. Balancing these attributes seemed prudent, but a more specialized approach was warranted. The balance between them needed a meticulous eye, a ratio of one hundred to ninety-two appeared equitable. I couldn't afford to neglect one stat over the other; the episode with Rank Nine, his arrest by Tony, and the subsequent bestowal of his rank upon me for defeating him served as a stark reminder of that fact.
My health regeneration had soared to unprecedented levels, courtesy of diligent practice with the sleep skill, but the same couldn't be said for my soul regeneration. Stockpiling points for potential multiple fights in a day seemed like a prudent strategy. The little voice in my head, the one I hadn't been utilizing, harbored potential for acquiring vital information about opponents, prompting me to reserve some points for this purpose. With a mental checklist in place, I braced myself to make the crucial upgrades.
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Book Level: 3
Name: Oren Hashigana
Health: 3500 (+300 Max)
Strength: 70 (+16)
Speed: 76 (+21)
Defense: 5%
Soul: 250 (+50 Max)
Skills:
Lvl. 2 Skill Combination
Lvl. 1 Strength Booster
Lvl. 1 Speed Booster
Lvl. 1 Triple Strike
Lvl. 1 Cross-Arm Guard
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Lvl. 1 Critical Hit
Lvl. 2 Danger Sense
Lvl. 1 Sledgehammer
Lvl. 1 Rage
Lvl. 1 Stealing Skills
Lvl. 2 Guaranteed Dodge
Lvl. 2 Peeking
Lvl. 1 Passive Healing
Lvl. 3 Roulette
Lvl. ??? Infinite Growth Limit (Passive) - No growth limit.
Points: 58
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I immediately felt a renewed sense of confidence. The formidable number of my soul stat allowed for a succession of skills, while my elevated 'fighting' stats positioned me to contend with the top ranks. The prospect of potential quests within the tournament excited me; it could place me on even stronger footing. Nice, Oren! Good thinking. I commended myself inwardly. I didn't do this my entire training, putting myself down to push myself further. Now, however, was the time to feel proud.
The time had come to make my way to the rented colosseum. Aroha had agreed to meet me there, offering her assistance in gauging the other fighter's statistics. Leaving the school gate behind, I trekked for around thirty minutes until the colossal structure loomed before me. The grandeur of the place was undeniable, its sheer size reminiscent of structures from the Roman Empire. It almost felt like a case of copyright infringement, a thought that flickered through my mind in amusement.
Ascending the stairs, I located Aroha, her gaze fixed on the vast field below. The material used for the field reminded me of the knives those guards wielded. I positioned myself beside her, resting my hands on the bars. "Hey, Oren. You're stronger than ever. The martial arts lessons finished today?" Aroha inquired, her voice filled with curiosity.
"Yes, the ones by Megumi, but the quest for martial art perfection never truly ends." I replied. Her kiss on my cheek was a gentle affirmation. "You mentioned the tournament but didn't specify the start. Your text caught me by surprise, but luckily, I was free. And your stats? They're higher than ever. Coupled with your lessons, you're a strong contender." she remarked, acknowledging the strides I'd made.
Turning her face gently toward mine, I sealed her words with another kiss, one on the mouth this time. "No, I’m not just a contender. I will win. The first match is about to start. Let's go," I asserted, my determination resonating in my words. Her bashful response, grabbing my hand, was a sign she appreciated the gesture. "A-alright, Oren," she stammered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. The effect of those 'howtoromance' videos had apparently worked like a charm!
As we made our way to the premier seats designated for participants, Aroha and I observed the stage, where two figures took their positions, standing at opposite ends. A perplexed expression crossed Aroha's face, a mix of concern and bewilderment. "This doesn't make sense. I'm looking at their stats right now," she remarked, her voice filled with incredulity. "One guy has stats of an average human all around." Puzzled by this revelation, I queried, "Are you sure? How could a regular human enter the tournament?" Her response came tinged with annoyance, "Yes, I'm sure, Oren! This ability has never misled me." She delved into the specifics, detailing the towering figure—a seven-foot giant with stats defying a typical human. "The guy stands at seven feet tall, with a strength stat hitting a clean hundred and a speed stat of sixty. This is going to be a slaughter!"
Examining the contenders closely, I noticed the stark physical differences. An ogre-like man, towering over Tsandu, exuded a formidable presence, his muscles surpassing even Tsandu's impressive build. He could probably take out Tsandu in a single blow. Curious about his skills, I inquired further. "What's his skill?" I asked, eager for more insight into the formidable adversary. "He has a Level 2 skill—a passive one." Aroha explained further, "It enhances his resilience, making him sturdier and more durable than individuals with his stats or even slightly higher. He's essentially a tank."
As our attention turned toward the announcer booth, a loud feminine voice boomed across the arena, initiating the proceedings. "Hello, everyone! Since today was a school day, we'll only have three fights, but we guarantee you they will be good!" The announcer's theatrical style drew a wry smile from me. "The Colossal vs Time! Can time itself pull through?!"
The audience was starting to make noise and talk. There could very well be a few thousand people here. Continuing the dramatics, the announcer detailed the Colossal's strength, "The Colossal's last recorded strength stat was at a whopping ninety four, and that was a few months ago! He's probably gotten stronger now! His strength limit is three hundred! Now you might be thinking, 'Why is he Rank Ten then?'. Because it's illegal to have a person as strong as him fight unprompted! He can destroy entire buildings! But don't worry, this special material is a special material made by a Gifted! You will be safe! But anyways, the fight will begin soon!"
In the heat of anticipation, the Colossal stood, a towering figure with long white hair. That's some good hair, pal. His attire was minimal, sporting large pants and a tight t-shirt that seemed designed to showcase his robust upper body. In stark contrast, Time, touted as the strongest contender, appeared diminutive and didn't surpass a height of five foot nine.
Amidst the murmurs of the crowd, their exchange cut through the ambient noise. The Colossal's voice, a deep rumble, reverberated as he addressed Time with a hint of vengeance. "This will be my revenge for what you did in my second year! I barely recovered, and I grew twice as strong! Are you ready?!" In response, Time's tone remained icy, his eyes rolling dismissively. "I don't have a lot of time. Make it quick."
The announcer, brimming with excitement, signaled the commencement of the bout. "Alright, they seem ready to me! Everyone in the audience, count with me... one... two... three!" The crowd complied, engaging in the countdown, but to no visible effect. The Colossal remained immobile, a perplexed expression flickering across his features, while Time vanished from sight. A sudden reappearance saw Time materialize behind the Colossal, his clenched fist emitting steam. The sheer peculiarity of a steaming fist captured everyone's attention. The Colossal's eyes rolled back, turning entirely white, a telltale sign of impact. A conspicuous red blister on his chin indicated the forceful blow he'd endured.
The intensity of the brawl had left its mark, visible bruising already marring the Colossal's skin, an ominous shade of purple peeking through. The incredulity surrounding this physical display was out of this world—how was it even possible? The Colossal teetered on the edge of collapse but managed to steady himself with a desperate maneuver, extending his right leg to prevent a fall. His defiant roar pierced the air to where everyone could hear, "Not this time, 'Time'!"
In a swift, almost choreographed exchange, The Colossal threw a powerful forearm slam, aiming to catch Time off guard. However, Time, with an almost preternatural reflex, intercepted the Colossal's immensely heavy forearm slam and delivering a precision strike to the right pectoralis. The Colossal's attack was a slam with all of his weight behind it. This meant nothing to Time, however. Proven by the force that propelled the Colossal backward, crashing into the wall, rendering him unconscious in an instant. The aftermath was stark—each impact point adorned with deep shades of purple, a startling sight given the Colossal's supposed resilience. That's.. insane! Without that skill, would he have succumbed so swiftly, even while boasting a strength stat of a hundred?
Time's triumphant declaration further rallied the crowd, ""I'm going to win, just watch me!" His steaming fist was raised in a gesture of dominance, eliciting fervent cheers from the spectators. Witnessing the sheer power of Time, both the other participants and I shared a collective understanding—we were up against an opponent of astronomical proportions. I couldn't even perceive what he did! From my limited knowledge about the Criminal Alliance, and trust me, I know very little. But I know at least that representatives are a few to dozens times stronger than deputies. The one that I fought was one on the upper caste, as Tony confirmed later. That means Time's at a representative level!