[Arena 11: Chris Blackthorn vs. D+ Iron-Shelled Golem]

Chris's arena was a stark, barren wasteland of gray rock. His opponent was an Iron-Shelled Golem, a hulking automaton of enchanted metal that stood as motionless as a statue.

It had no speed, no flashy attacks. It had only one, terrifying quality: absolute defense.

"So, a wall," Chris grunted, hefting his massive tower shield.

"Let's see whose defense is stronger."

He didn't wait for it to move. He charged, his heavy boots thudding against the ground.

He slammed his shield into the Golem with the force of a battering ram.

"CLANG!"

The sound was deafening, but the Golem didn't even budge. It simply raised a metallic fist and brought it down.

Chris met the blow with his shield and the impact sent a shockwave through his body, his arm screaming in protest, but he held his ground.

"My turn," he growled. He dropped his shield and slammed his bare hands onto the ground.

"Earth Stone Prison!"

The ground beneath the Golem churned. Thick pillars of rock erupted, wrapping around the Golem's legs and torso, locking it in place.

The automaton struggled, metal grinding against stone, but it was trapped.

With his opponent immobilized, Chris drew his weapon—not a sword, but a heavy, rune-etched war hammer.

His other affinity, Metal, flared to life. The head of the hammer glowed with a dull, silver light.

"Let's see how you like this," he said, taking a wide swing.

The hammer met the Golem's iron shell with a catastrophic "CRACK!".

A spiderweb of fractures spread across the metal. He swung again annd again as each blow was a testament to his relentless, unyielding strength. It wasn't a flashy fight.

It was a slow, brutal process of demolition. He was not a hero. He was a siege engine.

The battles of the other top students unfolded in a similar fashion. Lyra, with her chaotic fusion of fire and water, overwhelmed a pair of elusive Wind Sprites.

Aurelia, with her cold intellect, used her alchemical knowledge to systematically dismantle a Venomous Slime that was impervious to normal attacks.

Elara, with the grace of an elven huntress, pinned a Thorned Beast with root arrows before healing the minor injuries she sustained.

These were the victories of the gifted, the battles of those born with power.

But on a small, almost forgotten screen in the corner of the hall, a different kind of story was being written. A story not of talent, but of sheer, indomitable will.

[Arena 32: Alex Vonstel vs. D-rank Armored Boar]

Alex's arena was a muddy, enclosed pit. His opponent, an Armored Boar, was a cannonball of muscle and rage.

Its hide was as tough as leather, with bony plates protecting its vital areas. Its tusks, long and sharp, dripped with virtual saliva.

It snorted, pawing the ground, its beady eyes locked on him.

Alex stood opposite, his battered practice sword held in a trembling two-handed grip.

He was bleeding from a shallow cut on his cheek where the boar had grazed him on its first charge. His uniform was splattered with mud, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

The spectators watching his screen were not kind.

"Look at him, he can't even land a solid hit." The voice from the upper gallery was laced with contempt.

"He's just running around. Pathetic. He doesn't belong among the finalists."

"Why are they even showing this? It's embarrassing."

The mockery was a dull roar in the back of Alex's mind, but it was drowned out by another voice—Michael's.

"Don't fight its strength, Alex.....use its momentum against it. A boar only knows one direction which is to go forward. So make that its weakness."

The boar squealed, a sound of pure fury, and charged again. It was a living battering ram, the ground trembling under its thundering hooves.

Alex didn't try to block.

He didn't have the strength. He didn't try to parry. He didn't have the skill. Instead, he took a deep breath, planted his back foot, and at the last possible second, he dodged.

He threw himself to the side, rolling through the mud. The boar thundered past, unable to stop its own momentum, and slammed headfirst into the arena wall with a sickening.

"CRUNCH".

It staggered back, dazed, shaking its massive head.

In that brief moment of recovery, Alex scrambled to his feet. He lunged forward and slashed at the boar's hind legs.

His blade scraped against the bony armor with a harsh shriek, leaving only a shallow scratch.

The boar squealed in anger and turned, its eyes burning with renewed rage. It charged again.

For ten agonizing minutes, the brutal dance repeated. The boar charged.

Alex dodged, rolled, and survived. Each time, he would land a single, desperate strike on the beast's legs, its flank, anywhere he could reach.

Each strike was pathetic, barely scratching the armor. The crowd laughed.

But the instructors in the viewing hall saw something else.

"His stamina is incredible," one of them noted, stroking his chin.

"He's been on the defensive for ten minutes straight and his breathing is still controlled."

"And his footwork…" Alastor added, his eyes narrowed in intense concentration. He wasn't watching the main screen anymore.

His full attention was on Alex. "It's clumsy. Unrefined. But he never loses his balance. He's conserving every single ounce of his energy, waiting."

Waiting for what? The other instructors wondered.

In the arena, Alex was a mess.

He was bleeding from a dozen small cuts, his uniform was torn, his body screamed with a pain so deep it was a constant, roaring fire.

He was on the verge of collapse. The boar, too, was showing signs of fatigue. Its powerful charges were becoming sluggish, its movements less explosive. It was still a monster, but it was an exhausted monster.

That was the moment Alex had been waiting for.

The boar charged one last time, slower now, its movements heavy.

This time, Alex didn't dodge to the side. With a final, desperate roar that was more pain than courage, he charged forward to meet it.

"He's going head-on! He's insane!" a spectator yelled.

But he wasn't aiming for its head. At the last second, he dropped, sliding through the mud under the beast's massive, charging body.

For a fraction of a second, he was directly beneath it, the stench of the beast overwhelming him.

And he saw it.

The one weak spot he had been fighting for all along. The soft, unarmored flesh of its underbelly.

He thrust his sword upward with every last ounce of his strength.

The blade sank deep.

The boar let out one last, pained, soul-shattering squeal. Its charge faltered.

Its massive body crashed to the ground, skidding to a halt just inches from where Alex lay. Then, it dissolved into particles of light.

Alex lay in the mud, gasping for breath, his body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline.

He had won neither with overwhelming power nor with brilliant talent but with sheer, unyielding, stubborn grit. He had endured.

________________

In the VR Hall, the spectators who had been mocking him were silent.

On the viewing platform, Alastor allowed a rare, genuine smile to cross his face. "That boy… he has the will of a true hunter."

The main screen in the hall flickered, updating the final rankings for the top 32 and there, at the very bottom, a new name appeared, shining with a light all its own.

Rank 32. Alex Vonstel

The VR Hall was a cacophony of groans and sighs as the last of the students staggered out of their pods.

The Trial of Subjugation was over. Some emerged with the flush of victory, others with the pale, hollow-eyed look of defeat.

The air was thick with the phantom scent of blood and the bitter taste of virtual death.

Then, the main holographic screen, which had been cycling through minor combat highlights, flared to life.

The scattered chatter died instantly. Every head in the hall snapped up. The final judgment was about to be rendered.

The names scrolled in a shimmering cascade of golden light before locking into place with a soft, definitive chime.

[Individual Subjugation - Final Rankings - Top 32 Qualifiers]

(1) Michael Wilson - 4830 pts

(2) Eric William - 4600 pts

(3)Leon Lionheart - 4550 pts

(4)Aiden Stromfang - 4400 pts

(5)Selena Veylan - 4250 pts

(6)Lyra Braveheart - 3800 pts

(7) Aurelia Miller- 3775 pts

(8) Elara Moonshade - 3760 pts

(9) Chris Blackthorn - 3730 pts

...

(31)Seraphina Croft - 3150 pts

(32)Alex Vonstel - 3010 pts

A collective gasp swept through the hall, a wave of pure, unadulterated shock.

'It wasn't just my name at the top; that was becoming a bitter pill the nobles were learning to swallow.'

No, it was the name at the very bottom of the list that caused the most disbelief.

Alex Vonstel a Class C student and a boy known for being a punching bag for minor nobles. He had qualified and unknowly he had clawed his way into the top 32, a realm reserved for the Academy's elite.

(To be Continue)

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