Paper rained from the sky.

That was all the participating students saw at first.

A thousand one hundred slips drifted down like autumn leaves, fluttering gently toward the arena floor. For a moment, silence held them all—curious, uncertain.

Then chaos ignited.

Elric watched as students lunged forward, scrambling to grab a number. Some thought themselves clever and hoarded entire handfuls—only to be surrounded moments later by swarms of others demanding a share.

Spectators held their breath. Though technically just a preliminary round, the scene was electric. Students soared a hundred meters into the air, bodies blurring past as punches sliced the wind with a whistle.

No distractions. It's finally begun.

Elric pushed Neve from his mind and locked in on the tournament.

In a flash, he dashed toward a quieter corner of the stage—where the number of students was less.

A few sharp-eyed participants glanced in his direction—the most alert ones. But most had their attention locked on the papers, forgetting that over a thousand others were chasing the same goal.

Observing the frenzy, Elric muttered, "Grab one now, then wait out the five minutes."

Papers were still descending like slow snowflakes when Elric tilted his head upward and fixed his gaze on a specific one. Without hesitation, he crouched low, then launched himself into the air.

As he reached out to claim the paper, he noticed another figure closing in. A young man, spear in hand, was barely a meter away—on a direct intercept course.

You wish.

Elric twisted mid-air and lashed out with a sharp kick aimed at the man's ribs.

But just before impact, the spear-wielder spun his weapon in a fluid motion, positioning the tip directly in the path of Elric's leg.

Surprised at the man's reaction speed, Elric could only try to slow down the kick, but being mid-air, that was easier said than done.

Putting all his effort into stopping his leg from meeting the spear's tip, he didn't notice that the man had already grabbed the paper.

With a light laugh, the man said, "This doesn't belong to you," while waving the paper around.

Hearing his words, Elric turned his head and focused on the slip of paper in the man's hand. On it, the number '6' was written.

6, huh? Alright.

Thought Elric as he smiled lightly while the two of them fell.

"All yours, don't worry. I'll go find another one."

"You're smart," said the man. Landing on the ground, he immediately disappeared into the crowd, acting as if he were still searching for a number.

Chuckling lightly, Elric shook his head.

I need to find a number 6 now. Can't wait to meet him again.

Glancing around, he saw more and more paper slips still drifting down. Some had already hit the ground, and participants were furiously snatching them up.

Focusing his gaze on the slips falling into his zone, he began to mutter their numbers.

"4…" "7…" "11…"

Then his eyes locked onto one just about to be grabbed by another student.

"6."

Not willing to let this opportunity slip, he pushed a bit more strength into his legs and, in an instant, surged forward. Elric's hand snatched the paper mere centimeters before the other student could reach it.

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Without hesitation, he turned and left the area, finding himself now in the middle of the arena.

The student, hand still stretched out, slowly closed it and brought it to his face. When he opened it and saw nothing, he stood frozen for several seconds before murmuring,

"Am I imagining things?"

Shaking his head he went and joined back the other students in search of another number.

On the other hand, Elric had put some distance away between himself and the massive crowd as he walked toward a corner of the arena and sat down.

"Now I just need to wait," he muttered, eyes scanning the ongoing chaos.

A minute had passed since the start of the preliminary round, and already over a hundred participants had moved away from the center, claiming spots where they could wait out the timer in peace.

Those still without a number didn't bother going after the ones who had already secured theirs—chasing new slips offered better odds than starting a fight they weren't sure they could win.

But… that didn't stop a few hotheads from trying.

A handful approached the resting students, only to be met with swift, punishing beatdowns and unceremonious tosses back into the arena's center. An unspoken alliance seemed to have formed among those who had secured their numbers.

Elric watched it all, mind drifting into thought—until a voice snapped him out of his daze.

"What number did you get?"

Looking up, he saw Neve approaching, not even a hair out of place as she prepared to sit down.

"I got number six. What about you?" Elric replied, his gaze drifting back toward the arena.

"Two," Neve said casually as she took a seat beside him.

"Mhm," he responded with a quiet sound of acknowledgement.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, letting the minutes slip by.

Then, in what felt like a flash—at least to Elric and Neve—the preliminary round came to an end as a staff member shouted "Time is up!"

The students who hadn't managed to secure a number felt as if the whole world came crashing down on them.

"WHO HAS A NUMBER TO SELL?"

The sudden shout snapped their attention toward a student frantically scanning the crowd, desperation clear in his voice.

Immediately, a chain reaction followed. More and more students began swarming the sidelines, pleading with those who had already secured numbers to sell.

"Ugly."

Elric turned his head toward Neve.

"Ugly?" he asked.

"Their display. It's ugly," she said coldly.

Shrugging, Elric said, "They're just doing what they need to progress. You can't judge them for that."

"Doesn't change the fact that it's ugly," Neve repeated, but then added, "They should've practiced more if they really wanted to win."

Elric sighed, choosing not to comment aloud, but his thoughts echoed: True, but not everyone has the same mentality.

Movement from the grandstands caught his attention. Isaac was back at the railings, his voice booming across the arena.

"The preliminary round is over. Those who have failed to secure a number need to leave."

Many students, though clearly angry, held their tongues and began to filter out of the arena. A few left with their heads held high, indifferent, but there were others who cried and shouted, desperately trying to hold their ground.

The spectators, watching this display with twisted amusement, began to mock and jeer. Some even took it a step further, finding names and whispering them across the crowd, ensuring that everyone would know who to befriend—and who to avoid—when the tournament ended.

Annoyance mixed with anger flashed in Isaac's eyes as he turned toward the staff members seated near the arena, giving them a sharp nod.

Understanding immediately, a dozen staff members rushed to the arena, hauling the students out like unwanted trash, which only incited more laughter from the crowd.

Elric raised an eyebrow. "They're letting some new people train…"

"Did you think they wouldn't?" Neve replied coolly, her gaze locked on the staff members. "Still, their standards are nowhere near Blue portal level."

Elric gave a slight, dismissive smile. "I guess you're right. Bet they've forgotten what Boss told them after all these months." His tone carried a hint of disdain.

The atmosphere soon settled as Isaac looked down at the remaining students in the arena, a light smile playing on his lips.

"Congratulations to those who passed the round. Now, I'm sure your academies have already informed you of the first round rules, but the audience wasn't as fortunate, so I'll briefly go over them again."

Clearing his throat, Isaac continued, "You'll be split into groups of a hundred based on your numbers and fight in a free-for-all format. There are no strict rules about how you make others surrender, but—don't intentionally kill. If you do, an investigation will follow. Depending on the outcome, you could be expelled from the academy at best, or face jail time at worst. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

He clapped his hands, snapping the crowd from their deep thoughts.

"The winners will be five from each group, a total of 55, who will advance to the second segment."

Isaac paused, letting the information sink in, before gesturing toward the stage.

"I believe grabbing a piece of paper didn't tire you out so… Group number 1, please remain in the arena and await our staff to verify your number. Everyone else, leave the arena and take your seats on the sides, where spaces have been prepared for you."

Turning around, Elric finally noticed the empty seats right beside the stage.

I didn't even notice them, he thought as he and Neve got to their feet.

He brushed the dust off his clothes and, with a brief glance, they made their way toward the stands. They took their seats just as staff members hurried back to the arena, checking the numbers of the participants who remained.

It only took a minute for the staff to finish, and soon, a hundred participants were scattered across the arena, waiting.

Isaac stood at the edge, his presence commanding the crowd's attention. As excitement rippled through the spectators, he raised his voice, building the tension.

"The first round of the first segment shall begin…"

"Now!"

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