The morning of the Nurino Festival began with a roaring crowd.

  Hundreds of small arenas stood across a vast field, each one like an island surrounded by spectators.

  Flags fluttered, judges wrote down names.

  Heralds shouted one name after another, calling fighters forward.

  The air smelled of powder, magic, and anticipation.

  — Zenhald Helvard versus Gregor Vliko!

  The crowd buzzed.

  Gregor Vliko—two meters tall, muscular, with a square jaw and a self-confident grin.

  Heavy steps, chains wrapped around his arms, an aura of certainty, as if he had already won.

  He looked at me like I was a joke.

  — So you’re that Zenhald Helvard?

  — Hahahaha… fairy tales. Slaughtered a demon army, my ass. A kid!

  — Don’t make me laugh.

  The crowd laughed with him.

  I just stood there.

  Calm.

  Hands in my pockets.

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  Waiting for the start to be announced.

  — The fight beg—

  He didn’t finish.

  Gregor took a step—huge, like a hammer strike—already preparing a throw, his aura of strength rising…

  And then—

  He fell face-first into the ground.

  Unconscious.

  Instantly.

  Like a sack of sand.

  Silence fell over the arena.

  The judge stood there, eyes bulging.

  The crowd blinked.

  And I hadn’t even moved.

  I simply decided that wasting time on minor opponents was pointless when dozens of fights lay ahead.

  A microscopic wave of mana—barely noticeable—and the man shut down.

  — …Winner: Zenhald Helvard? — the judge announced it as if he didn’t believe it himself.

  The crowd exploded:

  — WHAT?!

  — He didn’t even hit him!

  — Did he move at all?

  — Is that really him…?

  — That’s impossible!

  I turned around and left the arena without even looking at Gregor.

  The next pairs were called one after another.

  Some fights lasted five minutes.

  Some—thirty seconds.

  Some fighters surrendered.

  I simply walked from arena to arena.

  Name — step — opponent falls — victory.

  Judges exchanged looks, wrote something down, already whispering among themselves.

  Even the spectators began leaving the smaller arenas, because there… was no longer any intrigue.

  And the best part—

  my entire class made it through.

  Finn burst forward in a roar of flame.

  Siren took down three opponents with a speed no one could follow.

  Lucille locked an arena down with spatial control.

  Elinia shattered a glass barrier rune, triggering a frenzy of applause from the crowd.

  Everyone had emotions.

  Everyone had a struggle.

  I, however, had a goal.

  To reach the main arena.

  Where the strong would be.

  Where those tied to the demons would be.

  Where it would matter.

  The qualifiers ended quickly—and everyone who passed received the participant medallions for the main tournament in the coliseum.