The head referee stood on his high stone podium. He looked down at the five hundred elite fighters standing in the white chalk ring.
This was Batch C. The true monsters of the noble generation.
He raised his right hand high into the air. The massive stadium held its breath. A million people leaned forward in their seats.
The referee swung his hand down.
"Begin!"
The magical gong echoed across the arena.
Unlike the first two matches, Batch C did not turn into an instant, chaotic brawl. The minor nobles and the commoner mercenaries knew exactly who was in the ring with them. They knew they were trapped in the same space as the heirs of the highest Dukes.
Instead of attacking each other, the weaker fighters immediately grouped together. They formed a massive, desperate mob. They knew their only chance of surviving this round was to eliminate the big threats first.
Almost three hundred fighters turned their weapons toward a single spot in the arena.
Standing there was a very strange trio.
Lukas cracked his knuckles, a massive, excited smile on his face. Kaelen stood right next to him, brushing a speck of dust off his expensive silver suit. And standing perfectly still behind them was Nia, her violet eyes completely blank.
They hadn't planned to team up. But the heavy crowd was closing in on them from all sides. They were forced into a temporary, uneasy alliance.
"Look at this mess," Kaelen sneered, drawing his glowing silver rapier.
"A bunch of common dirt trying to swarm us. Lukas, try not to get in my way. I don't want your sloppy footwork tripping me up."
Lukas laughed loudly. He didn't even draw a weapon. He just raised his fists.
"Sloppy? I am going to knock out twice as many guys as you, Kaelen! And maybe you shouldn't wear a fancy silver suit to a dirt arena! You look like a shiny target!"
"It is called fashion, you brute," Kaelen snapped back.
The crowds of mercenaries finally charged. They screamed at the top of their lungs, swinging heavy axes and broadswords down toward the three nobles.
Lukas and Kaelen didn't step back. They charged right into the front line.
Lukas fought like a wild beast. He ducked under a swinging hammer and threw a brutal uppercut. His fist connected with a loud crunch, sending a massive mercenary flying backward into the crowd. He didn't stop moving. He grabbed a spear aimed at his chest, yanked the attacker forward, and threw him over his shoulder.
"That's one! Two!" Lukas yelled cheerfully.
A few feet away, Kaelen moved with completely different energy. He was elegant, fast, and incredibly precise.
He didn't waste energy on big, flashy punches. He stepped lightly to the side, dodging a sword strike by an inch. His silver rapier flashed in the sunlight. He struck the pressure points of his attackers with lightning speed.
A mercenary dropped his axe, his arm completely numb. Another fighter fell to his knees, paralyzed by a quick strike to his leg.
"Quality over quantity, Draven," Kaelen mocked, knocking out two more fighters with the flat of his blade.
"It isn't about how hard you hit. It is about how smart you strike."
"Smart?" Lukas yelled back, punching another guy so hard he bounced off the dirt.
"You just spent five seconds on one guy! I already cleared out five! You are too slow!"
"I am not slow! You are just fighting a bunch of weaklings!"
They were completely surrounded by hundreds of hostile fighters, but they didn't care. They just kept arguing with each other. They bickered about footwork, about clothes, and about who was stealing whose target.
They fought well together, easily holding back the front line of the crowds. But they couldn't block everyone.
A dozen smart, fast-moving assassins noticed that Lukas and Kaelen were distracted. They realized there was a huge gap in their defense.
The assassins slipped past the two arguing boys. They aimed their daggers directly at the girl standing completely still in the back.
Nia Draven.
She hadn't moved a single inch since the gong rang. Her hands hung loosely at her sides. She didn't have a weapon. She wasn't glowing with any visible magic.
To the assassins, she looked like the perfect, easy target.
"Take the girl out!" the lead assassin shouted.
"Break their formation!"
The dozen assassins leaped into the air, bringing their sharp daggers down toward Nia's neck.
Up on the Royal Balcony, Rias leaned forward in his chair.
"Those idiots," Rias whispered, shaking his head.
"They are attacking the most dangerous person in the ring."
Princess Amyra, who was still rubbing her slightly red cheeks, glanced at Rias. She wanted to argue with him, but she knew he was right.
Down in the dirt, Nia didn't dodge. She didn't raise her hands to block. She didn't even blink.
She just looked at the assassins flying toward her.
The moment the assassins locked their eyes onto her, their minds completely shattered.
Nia didn't use fire, wind, or earth. She used Psychosis magic. It was an incredibly rare, deeply terrifying branch of mental attacks. It required no chanting and no physical movement.
The assassins felt a silent, invisible spike of pure mental energy stab directly into their brains.
It was absolute agony. The killing intent they directed at her was instantly reflected back into their own minds, multiplied by a hundred. Their brains essentially short-circuited under the overwhelming pressure.
The lead assassin's eyes rolled back into his head. His daggers slipped from his fingers.
He didn't even scream. He simply dropped out of the air like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. He hit the dirt with a heavy, thud, completely unconscious.
The other eleven assassins suffered the exact same fate. They all collapsed into the dirt around Nia's boots, foaming slightly at the mouth.
She had defeated a dozen high-level fighters in a single second. And she hadn't even lifted a single finger.
The rest of the mob suddenly stopped charging.
They looked at the pile of unconscious bodies surrounding the silent, black-haired girl. A wave of pure terror washed over the crowd. They didn't understand what had just happened. They didn't see an attack. They just saw their comrades drop dead the moment they got close to her.
"Monster," a mercenary whispered, taking a terrified step backward. "She is a witch!"
Anyone whose rank was lower than hers couldn't even stand in her presence if they held bad intentions. Her mental defense was an absolute, unbreakable wall.
"Hey! Stop slacking off!" Lukas yelled, breaking the terrified silence. He punched a distracted fighter right in the jaw.
"We have a bet to settle, Kaelen! I am up to thirty!"
"You are counting the ones I tripped!" Kaelen argued angrily, blocking a sword strike and kicking a guy in the knee.
"You cheat!"
The massacre resumed.
But this time, the Crowd completely avoided Nia. They realized that going near the silent girl was a guaranteed way to lose their minds.
The match didn't last much longer.
Lukas and Kaelen tore through the crowd. Other high nobles in different parts of the arena did the exact same thing. The regular mercenaries and minor fighters simply couldn't keep up with the overwhelming speed, skill, and resources of the elite heirs.
Fighters were thrown out of the ring by the dozens. Bodies piled up in the dirt.
Soon, the massive crowd of five hundred was reduced to a scattered, groaning mess.
*BONG!* *BONG!* BONG!*
The magical gong rang out, echoing through the stadium.
"Stop!" the head referee shouted from his podium.
"Fifty fighters remain! Batch C is officially concluded!"
The crowd in the stands cheered wildly. It was exactly the kind of brutal, high-level display they had paid to see.
Down in the ring, Lukas wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. He grinned brightly and pointed a finger at Kaelen.
"I counted forty-two knockouts! You only got thirty-eight! I win!"
"You literally stole three of my targets while I was dealing with a shield wall," Kaelen sneered, sheathing his silver rapier.
"You have zero honor, Draven."
"A win is a win!" Lukas laughed.
Nia didn't say anything to either of them. She simply turned around and started walking back toward the dark VIP tunnels, completely bored by the entire event.
Lukas hurried after his sister, leaving Kaelen to scowl at his dirty boots.
Up on the balcony, Rias leaned back in his comfortable chair. He took a sip of cold water from a crystal glass.
'Nia's mental magic is dangerous,' Rias thought, analyzing the fight he had just watched.
'If a normal fighter looks her in the eyes, the match is instantly over. But my mind is protected by a God-Tier skill. Her Psychosis magic won't work on me at all. She is basically harmless to me.'
He glanced at Amyra. She was glaring at the arena, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was still upset about the bet, but she was forcing herself to watch the tournament.
"Are you ready for the last round?" Rias asked politely.
"Shut up," Amyra snapped.
Rias just smiled and looked back down at the dirt.
The earth mages rushed out again. They quickly repaired the broken ground, filling in the craters and smoothing out the dirt. The white chalk ring was redrawn for the final time today.
"The arena is reset!" the referee yelled. "Will all fighters assigned to Batch D please step into the ring! This is the final elimination round of the day!"
The last group of fighters poured out of the tunnels.
Batch D was completely different from the first three rounds. There were no hidden monsters like Rias. There were no overpowered protagonists like Alen. And there were no elite, terrifying high nobles like Nia or Kaelen.
Batch D was filled with the leftovers.
It was a massive group of average mercenaries, desperate commoners, and minor noble heirs who had barely qualified to enter.
Because there was no overwhelming powerhouse in the ring, the fight was incredibly desperate.
"Begin!"
The gong rang, and the final five hundred fighters crashed into each other.
It wasn't a clean, fast fight. It was a gritty, brutal brawl. It was a pure struggle for survival.
Swords clashed. Shields shattered. Basic fireballs and wind blades flew across the arena, exploding in the dirt. Fighters grabbed each other, wrestling in the mud, throwing dirt in each other's eyes just to gain a tiny advantage.
They all knew this was their only chance. The top seeds had already advanced. This was the final ticket into the main tournament tomorrow.
The crowd screamed, completely absorbed by the bloody, evenly matched chaos.
Rias watched the fight with mild interest. No one in Batch D stood out to him. They were fighting hard, but their technique was sloppy. Their mana usage was inefficient. They were just wasting energy swinging wildly at each other.
The match dragged on for almost twenty minutes. It was the longest round of the day.
Fighters slowly collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Some were pushed out of bounds while they were too tired to fight back. Others simply surrendered, dropping their broken weapons and walking away.
Finally, after a long, brutal struggle, the referee raised his flag.
*BONG!* *BONG!* *BONG!*
"Halt!" the referee yelled.
"Exactly fifty fighters remain standing! Batch D is concluded!"
The surviving fifty fighters collapsed into the dirt, panting heavily. They were covered in bruises, cuts, and mud. But they had made it.
"Citizens of the Velmer Empire!" the referee shouted, his voice echoing over the roaring crowd.
"The elimination rounds are officially over! Exactly two hundred fighters have secured their spot in the main event! Tomorrow, the one-on-one duels begin!"
The stadium erupted into a final, deafening cheer. The noise shook the floating crystal balcony.
Emperor Valerius stood up from his throne. He didn't say a word. He simply turned around and walked back into the palace.
The rest of the royal family quickly followed him. Crown Prince Karlos gave Rias one last, mocking sneer before walking away.
Soon, only Rias and Amyra were left sitting on the balcony.
The sun had finally started to set, casting long, dark shadows across the ruined dirt arena below.
Rias stood up, stretching his arms. He looked down at his fiancée.
"It looks like tomorrow is going to be a very busy day," Rias smiled.
"I should probably get some sleep."
Amyra stood up. She didn't look at him. She just pulled her red cloak tightly around her shoulders.
"Do not get overly confident, Leonhart," Amyra warned, her voice cold and sharp. "You survived a crowd of weaklings today. But tomorrow, you will face the true prodigies of this empire. They will not hold back. They will try to kill you in that ring."
"I am counting on it," Rias replied calmly.
He turned around and walked away, leaving the Princess standing alone on the balcony.
The first day of the Imperial Tournament was over. But the real bloodbath was just about to begin.