Rest was a fleeting currency. When you were earning it, the minutes dragged like lead; when it came time to spend it, the hours vanished in a heartbeat.
The morning sun hit Ashstone Plaza with a sharp, unforgiving glare. For the elite few, the night had been a luxury—the academy had even provided private suites for the top-tier candidates. Ethan Lyle emerged feeling like a new man, his mana reserves brimming and his mind sharp.
He hadn't even made it to the center of the plaza before he was intercepted.
Nira Ashford looked like she had spent the night wrestling demons. Deep, bruised shadows hung under her eyes, and her complexion was a sickly pale.
"I won't lose to you on the stage," she hissed, her teeth literally grinding together.
"Okay..." Ethan muttered, stepping aside.
He had no idea what had crawled up her skirt and died, but she’d been obsessed with him since the Class Awakening Ritual. He didn’t have the energy to play therapist.
At exactly seven-thirty, the lead examiner, Roland Marsh, ascended the central dais with his entourage in tow.
"Today, we begin The Arena Trials!" Marsh’s voice boomed, amplified by mana. "For the failures out there, the Grand Trial is over. For you, the true test has only just begun!"
He gestured to the massive digital brackets appearing on the floating screens above the plaza.
"The rules are simple. Five mandatory rounds. Each win nets you ten points and a slot in the winner’s bracket. Lose once, and you’re demoted to the Losers' Bracket. You can still earn points there, but your journey toward the title of Grand Champion ends the moment you taste defeat."
Marsh paused, his gaze sweeping over the 104 remaining students. "One winner. One undefeated champion for Verdant City. And remember: the world is watching. These trials are being broadcast live. Your parents, your friends, and every recruiter in the country can see every move you make. Try not to embarrass yourselves."
A student near Ethan, who had been absentmindedly picking his nose, froze and snapped to attention, smoothing his hair in a panic.
"Draw your numbers," Marsh commanded.
The system was classic: #1 vs #104, #2 vs #103. Ethan reached into the black-shrouded box and pulled out a small, heavy sphere.
18.
"What’d you get?" Kieran Ji asked, leaning over.
"Eighteen."
"Twenty-four!" Kieran let out a breath so long it sounded like a tire deflating. "Thank God. I’m not in your bracket for the openers. If I had to face you in round one, I’d just go home and start a farm."
Kieran was Level 15. Unless he ran into the likes of Ethan, Nira, or Dorian Cross, he was a guaranteed slaughterhouse for the lower-level seeds.
Ethan followed the proctor’s guidance to Arena 4. Standing across from him was a girl who looked like she belonged in a middle school classroom rather than a high-stakes combat trial. She was tiny, clutching a staff with trembling hands, her face set in a mask of desperate defiance.
"Candidates, enter the ring," the proctor said, his voice flat. "Do not engage until I give the signal. Display your status."
Two holographic windows shimmered into existence.
[Ethan Lyle | Forbidden Incantator | Level 18]
[Bei Beibei | Hydromancer | Level 10]
The level gap was a chasm. Ethan’s mouth twitched. "Look, maybe you should just sit this one out."
"No!" Bei Beibei barked, her voice cracking. "I earned my way here! Just because you're a high level doesn't mean I’ll roll over! Fight me!"
Ethan sighed. She had a point—anyone who scored over an 85 in the Gauntlet was a monster in their own right. But the problem wasn't his lack of respect; it was his lack of options. He didn't have "gentle" spells. He only had Forbidden Incantations.
If he touched her with one of those, they’d be picking up her pieces in the next zip code.
"Fine," Ethan whispered. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
He reached into his mouth and snapped off a molar. The cost was paid.
"Forbidden Incantation: World-Rending Tempest."
The sky didn't just darken; it bruised. Heavy, violet-black clouds swirled into a localized vortex directly above the arena. Silver arcs of electricity hissed through the air, smelling of ozone and impending doom.
CRACK!
A pillar of lightning the size of a redwood trunk slammed down, tethering itself to Ethan’s raised hand. He stood there, wreathed in chaotic white light, looking less like a student and more like an avatar of an angry god.
The broadcast cameras immediately swiveled. The other matches were ignored as every screen in the city filled with the sight of Ethan Lyle holding a literal thunderbolt.
"Holy shit!" someone shouted from the sidelines. "He’s opening with a Forbidden spell? What did that girl do to him in a past life?"
"She’s tiny! He’s going to vaporize her!"
The proctor paled, his hand flying to his headset. "Candidate Ethan Lyle! Lethal force is strictly prohibited! If you kill her, you are disqualified immediately!"
"I'm trying not to!" Ethan yelled back over the roaring wind. "Tell her to quit!"
Bei Beibei wasn't moving. She wasn't even casting. She was staring up at the dragon of lightning Ethan was holding, her knees knocking together. She had seen the recordings of the Gauntlet, but video didn't capture the sheer, bone-vibrating pressure of a Forbidden spell.
To her, it felt like she had stepped into a boxing ring with a prime Mike Tyson, only for Tyson to step aside and introduce his partner: a tactical nuclear strike.
Her legs gave out. She hit the stone floor with a dull thud, her staff clattering away. Then, the dam broke. She burst into heaving, hysterical sobs.
While Ethan was traumatizing children, the rest of the trials were in full swing.
Nira Ashford was a vision of controlled destruction. She held The Infernal Codex, a tome that pulsed with the heat of a dying star. With surgical precision, she funneled walls of flame across the stage, pinning her opponent until they had no choice but to leap from the ring to avoid being cooked alive.
Kieran Ji was a Level 15 blur. His Level 8 opponent lasted exactly three seconds before Kieran’s sword was at his throat.
In Arena 1, Dorian Cross from Prodigy High spun a black spear. An oily shadow-dragon coiled around the shaft, roaring with every strike. He didn't just win; he toyed with his opponent, laughing as he delivered a final, humiliating kick that sent the boy tumbling into the dust.
Spencer Holt of Experimental High was even faster. As an SSS-rank Prismatic Edge, he was a ghost. A flash of light, a sheathed blade, and his opponent was down before they even realized the match had started.
But on Ethan’s stage, the atmosphere was... different.
"I can't... I can't do it... he's a monster..."
Bei Beibei’s wails echoed through the plaza. It was heartbreaking. It was awkward. It looked like Ethan had spent the last five minutes bullying a toddler.
Ethan stood there, still holding the lightning bolt, looking completely lost. He couldn't drop the spell without wasting the sacrifice, and he couldn't fire it without committing a felony.
Eventually, the proctor had to physically carry the sobbing girl off the stage.
"Winner: Ethan Lyle," the proctor announced, looking at Ethan with a mixture of awe and genuine disgust. "Ten points awarded."
Ethan became the first person in the history of the Verdant City Trials to win a match via psychological warfare alone.
"What a prick," a spectator muttered. "Did you see how hard she was crying? He must have said something horrific to her while the wind was blowing."
"I thought 'scared to death' was a metaphor," another added. "Ethan Lyle turned it into a strategy."
Ethan ignored them, retreating to the waiting area for his ten-minute break.
Round two arrived. His opponent was a tall, elegant youth with a longsword strapped to his back. Cedric Vane. He looked like the protagonist of a cultivation novel, eyes narrowed and sharp.
As Ethan stepped onto the stage, Cedric didn't flinch. He just drew his blade, the cold steel reflecting the sunlight.
"I saw what you did to the girl," Cedric said, his voice a cool whisper. "A formidable display. This will be difficult."
He took a low stance, his mana beginning to swirl like a rising mist. "However... I will win. I am the strongest."
Ethan tightened his grip. Level 11 Cloudstrider Sword Saint. This guy had the stats and the confidence to actually be a threat. Ethan prepared to sacrifice another tooth.
"Candidates, display status!"
[Ethan Lyle | Level 18]
[Cedric Vane | Level 11]
"Begin!" the proctor shouted.
The moment the word left the proctor's mouth, Cedric Vane performed a flawless, lightning-fast pivot. He sheathed his sword with a satisfying click, turned his back to Ethan, and began walking off the stage.
"I forfeit," Cedric said, his voice loud and clear.
Ethan blinked. The proctor blinked.
"Wait," Ethan called out. "You just said you were going to win."
Cedric paused at the edge of the ring, looking back over his shoulder with a serene, enigmatic smile. "I will win. Just not today. And certainly not against you."
With that bit of cryptic nonsense, he vanished into the crowd.
"Winner: Ethan Lyle," the proctor sighed. He was starting to realize this was going to be the easiest day of his career.
By Round Three, the trend had set in. His opponent didn't even bother talking. The guy walked to the center of the ring, looked at Ethan, looked at the scorch marks from the first round, and raised his hand.
"Proctor, save us both some time. I forfeit."
Ethan had reached 130 points without swinging a fist. The crowd was beginning to revolt.
"This is bullshit! He's just standing there!"
"The Forbidden Incantator is a cheat code! Why are they all folding?"
"They're smart, you morons," someone argued. "Why get crippled by a Level 18 nuke in the qualifiers? If they forfeit now, they stay healthy for the Losers' Bracket. It's called strategy."
"Well, he's not going to get a perfect score by standing there," a skeptic shouted. "Round four is where the real elites meet. No one is going to forfeit a top-seed slot!"
Ethan looked up at the screen as the Round 4 brackets shuffled.
His name moved to the center. Below it, the system generated a gold icon.
The crowd went silent.
"You've got to be kidding me," a voice whispered. "The bastard got a Bye Draw."