Only minutes had passed, yet a significant number of contestants had already been defeated, ejected, or surrendered.

This is not good, Nathan thought, alarmed.

The solo disciples were his unspoken allies. These scattered individuals would reduce the pressure he faced and increase the variables for the teams. Now, those variables were dwindling.

Thinking quickly, he attempted one of his strategies. After the other disciple was eliminated, no one was paying attention to him. They probably didn't think a lowly ant like him would amount to anything. His trump card had been exposed, so they only needed to be cautious when directly engaging him.

Taking advantage of this, Nathan moved across the arena like a snake-monkey hybrid. Sometimes he slithered between sword strokes, spear thrusts, or axe swings from above. Other times he used all four limbs to scamper like a madman. He focused on his first prey. After circling around, gathering information from the shouts amidst the clashes, he used everyone's blind spots to sidle up next to someone, successfully infiltrating a team of eight members.

"Hey, Desmond," he called out as if they were old friends.

The disciple named Desmond startled, his brown hair quivering as he looked around frantically.

Nathan didn't let him have his way, choosing to move behind Desmond, keeping his head low to stay out of sight.

"Shouldn't we attack the largest group?" he quickly continued before everything fell apart. "If we wait, it'll become a disadvantage for our team! We could temporarily ally with another group, find a way to eliminate them first. At this rate, aren't we just competing for second place? Second place after twenty people!"

Desmond heard but didn't respond, until he turned around faster than Nathan could react, looking him straight in the eye.

"Little rat," Desmond growled. He had received information via PsiLink from a teammate about Nathan's sneaky maneuver.

Nathan heard this and immediately fled. The past month of training his legs was precisely for this moment. Desmond couldn't chase after him, having to stay behind to adjust his group's formation. He had to direct attacks on the individuals who were assaulting the group. But the words of that Phase 2.6 guy still echoed in his ears.

It's not entirely without merit, Desmond pondered silently.

Whether successful or not, Nathan had completed the task he'd set for himself. He continued running through the arena, choosing the safest path, executing similar feints on other groups. One team leader even angrily chased Nathan for a long stretch, only retreating when he collided with another team. The groups weren't engaging each other yet, but they would seize any opportunity to eliminate a leader when possible.

Panting heavily, Nathan began to slow down, dividing much of his mind to replenish the mana in his body. His next target: the largest group.

Instead of approaching the leaders as before, this time he didn't plan to get close, but rather tried to ensure other contestants could hear him.

“The center! The center is key!”

“The center! Only by controlling the center can we win!”

“If we don’t capture the center first, we’ll lose our chance! Defend the center and victory is assured!”

Nathan shouted in all directions, especially around the largest group. A few suspicious glances searched for the source of the sound but found nothing. He even tried changing his voice to make people think it wasn't just one person.

Once finished, he slipped away to another spot like before, still moving at a pace that wouldn't exhaust him too much.

The seed had been planted; now it just needed a catalyst. He predicted it would come any moment now.

A loud whistle echoed throughout the space, and above, an announcement appeared.

"The arena will reduce in 15 seconds."

Here it comes, Nathan thought gleefully.

It couldn't be a battle royale without a mechanism to force confrontation. If the space remained this wide forever, the battle would certainly drag on indefinitely. Too much space would allow people to rest, run, or fortify. A narrower space would accelerate the process significantly. When fighting reaches a fever pitch, composure becomes as fragile as paper.

The disciples looked towards the arena's boundary, where the stones simply vanished, as if dissolving into thin air in an instant. Everything suddenly became more serious. The space had shrunk considerably, forcing everyone to move inward. A few more disciples were thrown out in the process.

Nathan wasn't sure how many people were left, but the number couldn't be more than 120. Yet still, no group had been eliminated. But his seeds were starting to sprout.

The largest group had begun to move, maintaining a loose circular formation. They attacked anyone in their path, and if attacked, the nearby members would immediately support. Judging by their trajectory, the center position was their destination.

Occupying the center was a double-edged sword, Nathan knew. Holding an advantageous position also meant becoming an easy target for everyone. Standing in a corner might only invite attacks from one or two groups, but in the center, all could attack. This was experience from hours of gaming with friends in his previous world. Being at the center of the circle wasn't always good, especially on a flat plateau; it would only make you prey for others.

But unable to think too much amidst the pressure of the tournament and hostile gazes, the twenty-person team hadn't considered this carefully. Moreover, they were confident that with superior numbers, they could fend off everyone.

The chaos was about to begin.

Desmond, the disciple Nathan had targeted first, began to think. He knew the danger of the center position, but there were still advantages. If the twenty-person group could hold out until the end, no one could stop them from advancing to the next round. Most importantly, a group of twenty was too large; they needed to be eliminated first. Just as that brat had said.

This line of thought also appeared in other groups because of Nathan. Their initial plan was to eliminate solo disciples, then proceed with a direct elimination between groups. But now they realized they were actually competing for a chance to fight the group of twenty and almost certainly lose the round. If so, why fight each other? Wasn't the common goal the group of twenty?

Desmond used PsiLink to signal another leader, asking about a temporary alliance. The group of twenty needed to be eliminated right now.

The response was agreement.

This cooperation was simultaneously occurring among other groups. Even Nathan was unaware of how successful his divide-and-conquer strategy had been. The leader of the twenty-person group was still oblivious to the danger they faced. His thoughts were perhaps the most naive, believing that more meant stronger. The principle of standing at the forefront of conflict never failed: being too prominent was as good as stabbing yourself in the back.

Desmond's group, like the others, wouldn't recklessly attack immediately despite reaching an agreement. They would wait for the group of twenty to move closer to the center, allowing them to fall within the attack range of other groups. For now, they pretended as before, continuing to eliminate disciples who didn't belong to any group. The number was steadily decreasing to about 30 solo individuals.

Only one position was avoided by everyone. Too busy to notice earlier, Nathan now saw one of the individuals who had attracted attention on the day of the exam was in the same area as him. Xander Caldoran.

Xander stood there in a position on the arena floor, hand holding a spear planted in the ground, his majestic amber eyes gazing at the space before him, for anyone who blocked his path or stood before him had already been defeated. His figure towered over others, lean yet intimidating with his buzzcut and the tattoos on his biceps. The black ink drawing looked like a spear piercing the sky. His presence was like that of a god, easily crushing everything. An immovable pillar of heaven.

Nathan was also stunned by Xander's combat prowess. The weapons of the defeated lay scattered around, some broken, some dented. Blood was inevitably present, blooming like a flower. Defeated or knocked-out disciples were teleported out through the arena's mechanism, so even severed limbs had been removed. Yet, this wasn't enough to diminish the intense image of Xander Caldoran.

Similar situations were occurring in other arenas, images chosen to be displayed on the large screen.

In the first area, Keira Valaine's group dominated. With just four members, no one dared approach them. The four girls not only possessed the beauty of young maidens, but the knives and swords in their hands also carried an inviolable deadliness. Anyone who came near, regardless of intention, would be instantly eliminated by their seamless coordination. Keira appeared to be a true leader, able to calmly direct against encirclements. Gradually, her group faced no more challengers, thus ensuring other disciples could only compete for the remaining four slots.

The second area was bloodier, with no overwhelmingly superior team. The most notable group was a combination of two people. A girl named Yao Qingfeng, an archer disciple with a ponytail and a cheerful smile. She was protected by a male disciple, Roran Alastair, with a muscular physique, his muscles gleaming to the point of reflection. He was like a wall, preventing anyone from getting close, allowing Qingfeng to move freely, aim her arrows, and push back or eliminate opponents from the arena.

Zarah Kinyara was in the fourth area. Like Xander, she was a powerful lone wolf amidst the crowd. Similar to Nathan, she had also chosen a gauntlet as her weapon, making her fingers form a devastating cluster. She danced among opponents, fighting frenziedly as if fatigue was foreign to her. Unlike Xander, Keira, or the Qingfeng duo, she chased after targets instead of standing still. When surrounded, she used her agility to slip away, then continued to harass. If Nathan were in her group, they would surely make an interesting pair.

In the stands, betting groups quickly changed their odds. Subsequent participations would follow the new indices, with previous indices still guaranteed full payouts. Zeryn gradually sidled towards the area of outer disciples, causing other inner disciples to frown, seeing it as an act of lowering one's dignity. Even the elders' positions had few eyes on the competition. The crucial moment hadn't arrived yet. Once the top 32 were decided would be when focus would be given to the disciples.

As the ten-minute mark approached, the arenas continued to shrink. The solo disciples had been almost completely eliminated from the field. The pre-arranged medical booths were sprawled with hundreds of people, some with broken bones, others with severed limbs. One unfortunate disciple was left with only half a body, both thighs and a hand already frozen and placed beside him. Fortunately, the Verdant Spire Sect subsidized the cost, so treatment could still proceed. If insufficient, it could be paid off later. After being bandaged to stop the bleeding, he was taken to the emergency room to assess the severity and choose a course of treatment. At worst, limb-growing medicine and accelerated recovery machines could be used. The cost was incredibly expensive. The guy lay on the stretcher, still somewhat conscious, casting a hateful gaze at the screen displaying a majestic face holding a spear. Xander Caldoran truly showed no mercy.

Seeing Xander swiftly deal with a disciple, Nathan shuddered as blood sprayed and the disciple disappeared along with his severed arm. The war god swung his spear, flicking off the blood onto the floor, twirled it once, then planted it back into the ground, the resounding thud a warning to all.

Xander was like a group of disciples unto himself, commanding his own space. Arena number three was now down to just over 80 people, half already eliminated, not just solo disciples, but group members as well. There were still scattered lone wolves like Nathan.

As the shrinking battlefield forced the groups closer together, skirmishes began. The remaining lone disciples became less of a concern as the teams clashed. The moment Nathan had been waiting for had finally arrived.

Desmond's group, along with two others, charged towards the twenty-member group. Each side split the large group into three parts, fighting intensely in the central area. The remaining groups could no longer stay passive, choosing their battle targets.

In an instant, the sound of clashing swords, impacts, and breaking bones echoed across the arena. The remaining solo disciples were also dragged into the struggle without a chance to catch their breath. The previous state of balance had been completely replaced.

Nathan, of course, wouldn’t let things end there. Despite the chaos, the eliminations were still happening too slowly for his liking. The teams might lose members, but if two groups survived, they might call a truce and negotiate. Even with three groups, it was possible. Xander had already secured his spot, and now it was just a fight for the remaining seven.

He acted. His target was a member of a group outside the main conflict with the twenty. He charged towards the opponent while they were busy attacking someone else. A punch to the back made them stagger forward, creating an opportunity for the other person to swing a staff down on their head, knocking them unconscious before they could understand what happened.

The staff-wielding disciple looked at Nathan with suspicion, about to speak when Nathan lunged at them. Using his legs to attack, Nathan aimed for the opponent's knee. As they withdrew their leg, Nathan leaned forward to one side, just in time to dodge an upward swing of the staff. The forward momentum didn't stop; he grabbed the waist and clothes. Concentrating all his weight, he threw the disciple in an arc. The vague memories of judo, aikido, and jiu-jitsu were enough for [Martial Art Mastery] to help him synthesize and adapt to any situation.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Just when he thought he would succeed, the opponent quickly jabbed one end of the staff into the ground, the force helping them escape from him. Unable to react to that speed, he retreated, creating a light and fluid standing posture like a tai chi master.

Having successfully captured the opponent's attention, he tried to apply his repertoire to block attacks and strike when necessary. The disciple was forced to follow his rhythm, unaware they were being led. When they swept their staff horizontally at Nathan's waist, they hit another contestant standing behind, previously hidden by Nathan's figure. That blow angered the collateral victim. They were already fighting another disciple but disregarded that to jump back and change targets to the staff-wielder. The female contestant saw this and gave chase, creating a chaotic circle of three people.

The troublemaker had already slipped away, continuing with another disciple. After three successful attempts at making factions turn their weapons on each other, Nathan encountered an obstacle on the fourth try. Two contestants who were fighting immediately stopped and looked at Nathan.

"Sneak attacks are the actions of cowards," one of them said.

"That's right! I'll wait for you to deal with this bastard," the other replied.

In the blink of an eye, a gleaming sword slashed towards Nathan. He used the metal surface of his gauntlet to block, unable to dodge in time. That action pushed him back due to the difference in strength, his hand numb. Standing up, about to run, he was cornered by the opponent closing the distance. Seeing himself trapped in the affected space, instead of retreating, Nathan advanced, using Krav Maga techniques to lock the sword-wielding hand. With a decisive motion, he tried to disarm. But the disciple clearly knew what he was trying to do, immediately letting go of the sword, using the elbow of his free hand to attack Nathan's right shoulder. Though he had predicted it, Nathan couldn't dodge, only able to use the striking force to fling himself backward. Upon landing, he immediately sprang forward like a leopard to escape. The disciple picked up his sword, returning to his worthy opponent.

Running while massaging his shoulder, Nathan felt his strength gradually eroding. Being a quick strike, the recent blow wasn't strong enough, suitable for the force-dispersing insight gained earlier to work, protecting his mobility by avoiding severe injury. Though he had tried to use as little mana as possible, the longer things dragged on, the more he fell into an uncontrollable rhythm.

"Reducing in 10 seconds!"

Another whistle sounded.

Instead of panicking, the sound felt like a melody from heaven to Nathan.

As groups had to move to avoid the boundary, unwanted collisions were bound to happen. Stemming from the chaos Nathan had caused earlier, the teams of involved individuals, seeing their teammates surrounded, split up to attack. This way, one-on-one battles became rare on the battlefield, replaced by having to fight while being wary of others swooping in.

This was the desired result, but Nathan was no exception. He too was drawn into the vortex, no longer having enough space to move freely. Not eager to attack, he focused on everyone's movements, predicting and executing evasive maneuvers. He transformed into a slippery snake, twisting and turning amidst the crowd. Then he became like flowing water, slipping between gaps between two backs, or crawling through the area beneath two crossing swords, or using the solid rock-like body of another disciple to change the direction of his flow. Sometimes he would use [Butthurt] to reduce collisions. He didn't dare use this skill when approaching swords, spear tips, or knives, because while it did reduce aftereffects, it still left cuts. He'd learned it the hard way. Until he was stopped before a vast, towering mountain: Xander Caldoran. He flashed a mischievous smile, having reached his destination.

Hiding his excitement, he turned his back to the war god behind him, facing the attacks from the front, pretending to be engaged in combat. When pushed back, Xander wouldn't attack him. Like the sword-wielding disciples, Xander wouldn't strike from behind. Above all, Nathan had observed earlier. As long as he didn't attack or get thrown towards him, Xander would stand still like a majestic statue.

Nathan thus found time to rest. Each time he was pushed back, he exaggerated his fall, pretending to be beaten down and exhausted. He massaged his body, playing the part of someone who had been thoroughly thrashed. Xander, standing tall, glanced at Nathan with mild disdain, too lazy to bother with someone who was only a Phase 2.5. To Xander, the fact that Nathan was still in the arena at this point was an achievement in itself, but ultimately, it was pointless.

Outside, the images were constantly switching between arenas. The battle situations were nearing their conclusions. Keira's first area had already selected eight people, including a worn-down team with three members and one solo disciple. In the second arena, apart from the Qingfeng and Roran pair, the other six were from one group. The fourth arena was mostly solo disciples, a special case compared to the others. The main reason was Zarah's diligent attacks, sparing no opponent. Individuals without burdens chose to avoid her. But when part of a group, one's suffering would be shared or implicate others. This made people discuss her more. The endurance Zarah displayed truly surprised everyone.

When the results in all three arenas were almost settled, the third arena attracted everyone's attention.

"Heavens! That Phase 2.6 guy is still on the field!"

"Is the third group useless? How could they let this happen?"

"Watch your mouth. If Xander hears you, nothing good will come of it."

"If you haven't been watching that Phase 2.6, then shut up. I bet you couldn't even beat him."

Arguments and disputes proved the appeal the third group possessed. A small screen was now dedicated to Nathan, attracting everyone's attention. Especially when they saw his utterly underhanded way of playing.

As the final stage approached, Nathan had to face the truth: he wasn't going to be okay.

To ensure the number of group members was reduced as much as possible, he had been conducting sneak attacks alternately, pushing unprepared individuals off the arena. The remaining contestants who saw this couldn't catch him. Training with a Tier 2 like Zeryn and always finding ways to escape was not an easy feat. So he could handle those here. He became a thorn in everyone's side. Chasing him near the edge would result in being thrown out by unpredictable, bizarre techniques. And when he was thrown, he would climb back like a snake on the enemy's arm, using momentum to find his way back into the arena.

So when arena three was left with nine people, he was among them.

"STOP!" Desmond roared, causing everyone fighting red-eyed to look up, suddenly alert.

No explanation was needed; a glance at those remaining made the situation clear.

Desmond's group had held steady with four people, something that surprised even him as things became increasingly chaotic. The largest group with twenty members had been whittled down to just three. Thus, the eighth was Xander, and the ninth was Nathan.

Desmond’s gaze fell on Nathan, the lowest-ranked among them, but his expression softened slightly. Though Nathan had used underhanded methods, he had still managed to survive until now. His abilities couldn’t be dismissed.

Nathan stiffly looked around, the result he didn't want still came to pass. He was the odd one out, not belonging to any protective group, and not as strong as Xander.

Just as he was pondering what to do next, Desmond spoke up.

"Cecco, compete for the last spot with him!"

The one called Cecco looked at his leader in confusion. He was indeed the weakest in the group, having just broken through to Phase 7, but why not eliminate Nathan together instead of a solo fight? Everyone here had seen how dangerous he was.

"If you can't beat him, you're not worthy of the top 32!" Desmond said only that.

Nathan was surprised by Desmond's approach. From his implication, he knew Desmond could easily defeat him. But he was willing to give him a chance against the weakest in the group.

No one truly understood what Desmond was thinking, creating friction with his own member like this. But the other two standing close to Desmond understood; they didn't doubt because they knew this Cecco had violated the agreement to assist the group's pillars built over weeks. Cecco always avoided helping when needed, forcing Desmond to exert himself when exposed. This was just punishment.

Xander remained indifferent to everything, silently waiting for the outcome.

Though displeased, Cecco moved out, sword in hand, performing a few flourishes. Facing Nathan, he became cheerful again.

"It's not a difficult task anyway. Hey, why don't you withdraw and save some treatment money?"

I came this far, Nathan thought to himself before answering.

But his mouth said, with a sneering lip, expressing contempt:

"Are you dense?"

Trigger [Bad Mouth]. One credit given.

Cecco was taken aback. Before he could bristle up, Nathan continued.

“I’d rather waste my points on a rigged gacha game than patch up from whatever pathetic excuse for damage your weak ass can dish out.”

The entire field was stunned, including Nathan.

This damn skill, he screamed internally.

The spectators outside, now focused solely on arena three, all widened their eyes. It was a rare sight to see someone with a lower Phase dare to speak so boldly.

From somewhere, someone began to chant Nathan's name.

"Nathan! Nathan! Nathan!"

People, excited by the underdog, chanted in unison. Everyone was eager to see what he could do.

In the arena, the crowd looked around at the distant spectators, momentarily stunned. When Cecco came to his senses, he was furious. Even others were looking down on him.

Nathan, hearing his name called, felt a bit of vainglory, but suppressed it. Emotions were obstacles in a fight. He needed to focus so this opportunity wouldn't be wasted.

Cecco, not wanting another verbal sparring match, brought his sword back, his feet gliding across the ground as if flying, swinging the sword in a diagonal upward stroke. Nathan had prepared beforehand, lowering his body to one side to take advantage of the opening Cecco exposed. He swung a punch towards the opponent's chest. Cecco had quickly changed the sword's path to slash downward. But instead of cutting into the back, the sword tip only clanged against stone. Nathan, after completing his feint, had jumped up, his hand forming a blade to deflect the opponent's wrist. Cecco let out a loud cry, dropping his sword. Before he could retrieve it, Nathan stood before him, continuously throwing punches at close range with high speed. All strikes were timed exquisitely, landing on spots where Cecco was about to channel energy to counterattack. When legs were raised to move, they were blocked by Nathan's knees or feet. The two moved like a dance couple, stuck close together.

Nathan's continuous strikes were fast but lacked power. Though panicked, Cecco still found a way out. With a chest push, he sent the punching Nathan flying backward.

Nathan felt his arms aching but dared not stop to let Cecco retrieve his sword. He sprang up immediately, charging towards Cecco.

Cecco, abandoning his weapon, clenched his fist and swung a powerful punch toward Nathan’s face.

Nathan let his feet slide on the stone surface, his arms spread wide, his body rotating in a circle following his hands. Taiji was drawn, and he managed to deflect Cecco's attacking arm upward at an angle. The remaining force from the motion sent him flying up, a kick with his toe aimed straight at the chin.

But Cecco didn't give up. Knowing Nathan was cunning and skilled in martial arts, he hadn't used too much force in his previous punch, limiting exploitation by the enemy. So when he saw that toe heading for his head, he quickly lowered his punch from mid-air.

An extremely strong collision occurred between the two sides, with Nathan on the losing end. He cried out in pain, retreating to create distance. He could see his left leg deformed into an acute angle, the shock transmitted like a train crashing into his brain, nearly making him faint. Biting his lip until it bled, he maintained a bit of clarity for himself.

The spectators, seeing such a spectacular scene, all stood up cheering. This was what they had been waiting for. The change in format had taken away these kinds of duels from previous years. Only now was there a battle that disregarded schemes, focusing solely on strength, reaction ability, and speed.

"Unbelievable," MC Emily couldn't contain her excitement. "Nathan Reed is proving to us that a lower Phase can compete with a higher one. Although he's losing, what we're seeing cannot be deceived. He is doing it! Even if he loses, we will remember him today!"

What's the use of being remembered, Nathan heard and only felt more irritated.

He tried to stand on his right foot, his eyes brimming with exhaustion.

I want to win. No pain can stop me.

Triggered [Self Emotional Support]. One credit given.

Even without the system, he already had this thought. Just one more obstacle to overcome.

He bent his right knee slightly, his thigh and knee trying to keep the broken left shin from touching the ground, limiting painful feedback.

"You still won't give up?" Cecco taunted.

Receiving no reply, he grew more irritated, just wanting to kill the bastard before him.

Nathan concentrated intensely, adrenaline seeming to work with him. When Cecco approached, his intention was clear: to strike at the weakness of Nathan's crippled left leg. But this time, Nathan utilized everything, using the crane style to maintain balance. He blocked then retreated, retreated then blocked, rhythmic like a classical music piece. Cecco clearly saw himself having the upper hand but not landing hits, so he attacked more fiercely. Nathan, not making the same hasty mistake as before, focused on every muscle movement, feeling every gaze, every telegraph signal to predict his opponent and counter. One mistake, and he would fail.

When pushed to the arena's edge, Cecco pulled his hand back, creating an attack with two parallel punches, one aimed at the head, the other at the lower abdomen. Nathan gracefully spun and jumped up, forming a straight line parallel to the ground, rotating to slip between the two punches, his left leg struggling to stay still despite the excruciating pain, landing to Cecco's right side.

Nathan gathered force in his right leg and lunged at the now-tired opponent. His hand formed a blade, as if using a sword to thrust towards Cecco's flank.

One inch punch, Nathan silently roared.

As his fingertips barely touched the clothes, his hand transformed into a half fist, completing the first attack. Then it contracted into a full fist, ending his combo.

Triggered [Amplifying Strike] x 2. Two Credit Given.

Triggered [Flowing Strikes]. One Credit Given.

Two full-force blows were delivered. An attack he had constantly experimented with during training was the legendary One Inch Punch technique. Using [Martial Art Mastery] to continuously improve. He had succeeded. Two punches overlapped, reinforcing each other. His killing move. When successfully tested, the result was combined damage, a whopping score of 7.

Cecco was secretly rejoicing that Nathan had returned to an attacking state and could take advantage of a counter when he felt something was wrong. His instincts told him the incoming punch was far from ordinary. Unable to react in time, he took the blow full and square.

A bone-breaking sound rang out, followed by the whoosh of a body gliding through the air.

Cecco vanished.

In the sky of arena three, an announcement appeared.

"Winners Decided! Congratulations to the eight competitors!"

"The Arena will be closing now!"

Nathan sat on the ground, legs stretched out in front, breathing as if he'd never breathed before. He was too exhausted and in pain to feel his own joy. The One Inch Punch still had a fatal weakness: the recoil it brought was still beyond his body's endurance. The two system skills weren't the problem. If doubling the damage while receiving equivalent recoil was a useless skill, it wouldn't be ranked as rare. It was because using two techniques simultaneously didn't give muscles and bones time to recover. His right hand was stiff, in pain no less than his broken leg. He just hoped it wouldn't be an injury down to the bone marrow.

When he regained some thought, he heard his name being called. Looking around, the arenas had been retracted, returning the official battleground.

"Nathan! Nathan! Nathan!"

The cheers calling his name made him swallow a mouthful of saliva with a dazed expression. Some of the other thirty-one contestants also applauded. Xander, standing nearby observing, only smiled in approval. He felt that final punch was truly mystical, the damage it unleashed genuinely dangerous. Even he would have to be cautious if that attack landed on his body.

Cecco lay on the arena floor, looking up with a humiliated expression. His ribs were broken, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, his mind hazy. Medical staff immediately came to attend to him. He closed his eyes to be carried away, unclear whether he was brooding over revenge or blaming himself.

Seeing the scene before him, Nathan managed to squeeze out a smile, raising his uninjured arm into the air, letting out an exhilarating roar.

Nathan Reed had become an inner disciple.

Quest "Inner Disciple" Completed!

Rewards Granted: 1 Very Rare Skill Roll, 500 credit.

Proceed as you wish.

...

You got a new quest: "Make yourself known"

Objective: Advance the tournament.

Rewards: Rewards are based on your performance.

Case 1: First Place, 1 Very Rare Skill Roll, 1000 credits.

Case 2: Second Place, 1 Rare Skill Roll, 800 credits.

Case 3: Third or Fourth Place, 3 Skill Roll, 600 credits.

Case 4: Fifth to Eighth Place, 2 Skill Rolls, 500 credits.

Case 5: Ninth to Sixteenth Place, 500 credits.

Penalty when failed: None.