Rhys returned to the stands with the others, the cheers from the arena still echoing faintly behind them. Aria practically dragged him to their seats again, forcing him to sit between her and Puddle like a prized trophy.

"Sit, champion," she said proudly, thumping him on the back. "We're not letting you run off to train again."

Rhys gave a quiet sigh but didn't argue.

Puddle immediately climbed onto his lap, hugging his arm. "Master strong! Master scary! Puddle proud!"

Caria adjusted her glasses as she flipped open her notebook again. "Tomorrow morning is your next match. Based on pacing, it will be Round Three or possibly the Top 32 bracket."

Sophia added, "Either way, rest is more important now. Don't overthink it."

Lyra smiled gently. "But observing others is fine. It sharpens your insight."

Rhys nodded. "I know. I want to see the other finalists. Especially the ones who stand out."

Crescent Arena – Spectator Stands

Late Afternoon

The sun was dropping, casting orange light across the arena. The next set of matches had already begun — the air crackling with mana, cheers, and the thundering sound of spells slamming into the arena floor.

A giant swordsman launched a wave of wind pressure —

"Tempest Cleave!"

A smaller duelist dodged, flipping back and countering with

"Shadow Pierce!"

The clash sent shadows and wind spiraling across the stage.

Aria leaned forward excitedly. "Ooooh, that guy's a freak of nature. Look at his muscles. He could probably bench-press the arena."

Caria scribbled calmly. "Over-reliance on raw strength. Mana output is stable but predictable."

Puddle gasped dramatically. "Big man scary!! But no brain!"

Sophia snorted softly. "Puddle… that's rude."

Puddle puffed her chest. "Puddle speak truth."

Rhys watched quietly — noting footwork, mana flow, how long fighters held their breath during exchanges. His fingers occasionally tapped the hilt of Ruinous Darkness, which rested beside him.

Not pulsing. Just quietly… observing.

Another match began — a mage-duelist using pure earth magic.

"Skill — Stone Grasp!"

"Skill — Earthspike!"

Rhys watched every movement, calculating strengths and weaknesses without speaking.

Lyra noticed. "You're analyzing again," she said softly.

"Can't help it," Rhys replied. "I need to understand how each one shapes mana. Some of them… their flow is clean. It's good reference."

Lyra's eyes softened. "You don't need to be perfect, you know."

He gave a small smile. "Not perfect. Just prepared."

A match on the far side caught their attention.

A slender boy with white-and-blue robes stepped into the arena. He carried no sword — just a thin crystal staff.

Aria blinked. "Wait… staff user? In a sword tournament?"

Caria flipped pages. "He's allowed. As long as it's a melee conduit class, staffs are permitted."

Sophia frowned. "He looks calm… too calm."

Rhys narrowed his eyes.

The match began.

The boy drew a slow breath — and whispered:

"Skill — Frost Step."

A circle of ice spread from his feet.

The next moment —

WHOOSH

— he vanished and reappeared behind his opponent.

"Ice Shard Break."

Six floating ice blades shattered against his opponent's guard in an instant, sending him flying off the platform.

The entire match lasted four seconds.

The stands exploded in cheers.

Aria's jaw dropped. "THE HELL?? Did you see that speed?!"

Puddle's eyes sparkled. "Cold boy strong… like ice candy!"

Caria flipped back through her notes. "Not Freya… different contestant. Name: Serin. Ice mobility type."

Lyra murmured, "Another dangerous one."

Rhys frowned slightly. "He's precise. Too precise. Like he's not even trying."

The sword at Rhys's side pulsed faintly — not in excitement, but warning.

Evening drew closer.

The sky darkened to deep purple, torches around the arena lighting up.

The final match of the evening ended with an explosion of fire and wind.

The runes above the arena flared:

"Day 2 Qualifiers Complete."

"Next Round — Tomorrow Morning."

Aria stretched, groaning. "Finallyyyyy… I can't feel my legs."

Sophia stood smoothly. "Let's head back. Rhys needs rest."

Caria nodded. "Tomorrow's opponents will be the strongest. Sleep early."

Puddle floated in front of Rhys's face, tapping his nose. "Master. Sleep or Puddle sit on chest."

Rhys sighed. "Alright, alright. I get it."

Lyra smiled warmly. "You fought well today. And you learned a lot."

Rhys glanced once more at the arena — now quiet, lit by moonlight and fading mana trails.

"Tomorrow…" he murmured, hand resting on Ruinous Darkness.

Morning came faster than Rhys expected.

A soft chime echoed through the inn as the system message appeared:

"Day 3 Qualifier Matches — Begin."

Rhys opened his eyes, feeling Puddle curled up like a warm glowing ball on his chest.

She blinked awake and floated up. "Master alive. Good."

Rhys sighed. "You really did sleep on me…"

He got up, stretched, and equipped his gear. The three sisters were already waiting outside.

Aria yawned. "Match order is out. Two earlier Masters fight first… then you."

Sophia crossed her arms. "Your match is third. That gives you time to focus."

Caria smiled faintly. "Don't waste it. Today determines who enters the top bracket."

They walked toward the arena. The streets were buzzing with players, NPC competitors, and spectators. Flags waved, magical screens floated in the air showing the rankings and win streaks.

When they reached the arena gates, the announcer's voice boomed:

"First Match of Day 3 — Begin!"

The crowd roared. Rhys watched the two early fighters clash — a Spear Saint vs. a Lightning Monk. Their blows shook the ground, sending sparks and shockwaves across the field.

Aria leaned close. "They're strong… but not unbeatable."

Rhys nodded silently.

The first match ended with a thunderous knockout. The second started immediately — a Fire Dancer versus a Shield Breaker. Flames and metal clashed in rapid bursts, filling the arena with heat.

As the second match ended, a new rune lit up above the arena:

"Third Match — Rhys vs. Kazel Nightfang."

Puddle floated beside him, tiny fists raised. "Master go! Puddle believe!"

Lyra placed a hand on his arm. "Remember what we practiced. Control your mana flow. Do not let Ruinous Darkness surge too early."

Rhys inhaled deeply.

Then he stepped forward, entering the arena as the crowd erupted with excitement.

His opponent waited at the center — Kazel Nightfang, a wolf-blooded swordsman with silver hair and cold eyes. His twin blades glowed with dark-blue wind energy.

Kazel smirked. "Finally. I've been waiting for you."

Rhys tightened his grip on Ruinous Darkness.

"Let's see what you've got."

The runes flashed—

"BEGIN!"

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