High above each rift in the arena, shimmering panels floated in the air, each one acting as a window into a different battlefield.

Twenty panels. Twenty teams. From the moment the rifts swallowed the participants, the audience's attention had been completely captured.

Rows upon rows of students leaned forward in their seats, eyes glued to the displays. The moment monsters began appearing, excitement erupted across the gallery.

"There they are!"

"I can't wait to see which team is going to be the champion team."

"But we all know the answer already. Which team can defeat Fredrick's team? They are unstoppable."

"But didn't you hear that Fredrick has gone missing? And with Emma already on another team, I don't think Fredrick's team can be the champion this time."

On almost every screen, combat had started instantly.

Seasoned teams moved like well-oiled machines.

Blades flashed. Spells detonated. Groups split into offensive and defensive units with practiced ease. Some teams advanced aggressively, slaughtering monsters as if harvesting wheat. Others maintained tight formations, steadily clearing enemies without panic.

Yes, there was a visible gap. But even the weaker teams displayed discipline.

They were veterans.

Most of these students had already experienced real combat during dungeon trials, field missions, or academy-sanctioned expeditions. Sweat rolled down their faces, but hesitation was absent. Even when outnumbered, no one froze.

Except for one panel.

The moment the audience's eyes shifted toward it, voices began to rise.

"…Huh?"

"Are they… forming up?"

"Can you believe it? They are acting as if they are on a serious mission. If this is their condition in the 1st round, I don't think they can progress any further."

On the panel designated to Derek's team, the contrast was immediately noticeable.

While others were already knee-deep in corpses, Derek's group stood tightly together, backs nearly touching. No spells flew yet. No blades clashed.

They were surrounded.

Dire hounds prowled in a widening circle, their glowing eyes locked onto the group like predators savoring the moment before a feast.

Some students snorted. Others outright laughed.

"Hahaha. Are they scared already?"

"Told you. Newbies always freeze in their first real monster horde."

"That's Emma Starwind's new team? What a joke."

Laughter rippled through the stands.

Even among the instructors, reactions were mixed.

A middle-aged instructor folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. "They're hesitating too much."

Another shook his head with mild disdain. "First-years. Overthinking will get them killed."

"What else can you expect. Except Emma, all are newbies. They even have a cultivator in their team."

Another one chuckled softly. "Seems Emma's judgment slipped this time."

Though some tried to mask it, mockery was impossible to entirely hide.

After all, compared to the slaughter occurring on other screens, Derek's team looked almost… pitiful.

And yet..

Emma Starwind was watching very carefully.

She didn't look at the monsters.

She didn't look at the audience reaction.

Her eyes were fixed on a single person.

Derek.

He stood at the front of the formation, posture relaxed yet grounded, eyes sharp and clear. He wasn't panicking. He wasn't rushing.

He was observing.

Counting.

Measuring.

Emma's grip on her wand tightened slightly.

They need to react faster, she acknowledged internally.

The monsters were already poised to attack. Any hesitation longer than this could spell disaster.

And yet…

She didn't say a word. Not because she couldn't. But because she chose not to.

'I want to see,' she thought. 'How strong you really are!'

Around them, the dire hounds tensed, muscles coiling. Saliva dripped onto the stone ground as the pack subtly narrowed its circle. They were ready.

The moment stretched.

And then...

Two faint clicks echoed.

From Derek's storage ring, his twin daggers slipped into his hands as if summoned by thought alone.

Their blades were dark, narrow, and cruelly sharp — built not for spectacle, but for killing.

Derek rolled his wrists once, feeling their weight. "Protect each other," he said calmly.

His voice did not rise. He didn't shout. He didn't explain.

"Got it?"

That was all. Then he moved. In the instant he disappeared, the ground beneath his feet cracked.

It wasn't speed alone. It was Lightning Pace, compressed, explosive, terrifying.

To the audience watching through the panel, Derek didn't charge.

He had vanished.

What replaced him was a streak of light.... thin, silvery, violent.

The first dire hound didn't even realize it was dead.

Its head slid cleanly from its body, eyes still glowing as it collapsed mid-leap.

Before the corpse hit the ground, Derek was already behind another.

Slash.

Blood sprayed.

A third beast rushed him from the side.

Derek twisted.

One dagger pierced upward through its jaw.

The second severed its spine. Agonized howls erupted across the rocky plain.

The pack reacted instantly. Every dire hound abandoned Derek's team.

Every single one.

As if guided by instinct, by terror, by survival itself... They all rushed him.

From above, it looked surreal. One lone human. Dozens of monsters converging.

A student near the front row leaned forward sharply. "How! How is he so fast?"

A roar of movement followed.

Dire hounds lunged from every direction, hurling themselves at Derek with reckless abandon.

Because somewhere deep within their bestial minds, they understood one truth: 'If he lives, none of us will.'

Derek welcomed them. His daggers became afterimages.

Lightning Pace carried him through the heart of the pack like a living disaster. Wherever the streak of light passed, blood exploded outward. Limbs flew. Bodies collapsed in twitching heaps.

He didn't slow. He didn't retreat.

He cut. He pierced. He slaughtered.

An instructor shot to his feet. "Wasn't he only a cultivator?! How is he welding those daggers so smoothly?"

"He's indeed only a cultivator."

"He is? Then how?"

All the fourth-year students were staring in disbelief.

In one of the panels, a fourth-year fighting three F-rank monsters, clenched his teeth, dodging desperately.

"Three at once is already hell," he muttered.

But if only he could see what other students were seeing.

Derek was killing five.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Alone.

Like a lion unleashed in a chicken farm, his team stood frozen behind him.

Henry's mouth hung open.

Art forgot to breathe.

Eva's pupils trembled.

They had known Derek was strong. But they had never imagined this.

They didn't even realize they were still in a trial. Because no monster reached them.

Not one.

Two minutes.

That was all it took.

The final dire hound let out a weak whimper.

Derek flashed past it.

Swish.

And then... Silence fell.

Bodies littered the ground. Blood soaked the rocks.

Derek came to a halt several meters away, turning slowly.

Crimson liquid dripped from his blades. His breathing was steady. Unchanged. Not a hint of exhaustion showed on his face.

The panels showed the aftermath in brutal clarity.

The arena...

Went dead silent.

Then...

"Impossible…"

"No way he's only a 1st year."

"No way he's just a cultivator too."

Murmurs rippled like wildfire.

"Since when can cultivators wield weapons like that?!"

"Is this some kind of mistake?!"

Students erupted into chaos. Even instructors were standing now, expressions stiff.

One whispered hoarsely, "That dagger technique he just used, it's a strong one. Maybe an S-class technique. But how did he learn it in the first place, let alone master it?! "

Another clenched his fists. "And lightning pace technique… He has mastered that as well?"

"That's not academy-level combat."

On Derek's panel, his team finally snapped back to reality.

Henry sucked in a sharp breath. "Derek… what the hell was that?"

Derek wiped one blade against a fallen monster, sheathing it.

"Don't bother about me for now." He said calmly. We need to move fast. To secure a good position, we need to accumulate more points. The more the better. So let's move already."

Without waiting, he turned and started walking. His team shared a glance and then rushed after him.

On the panels, a horrifying truth became obvious.

While most teams were still struggling with their first wave, Derek's group was already advancing deeper into the area where he was.

Whispers turned into heated arguments.

Debates erupted.

Above, hidden beyond the academy walls, a cloaked person observed silently from afar.

His fingers twitched.

"…So this is the depth of it," he murmured.

His eyes gleamed dangerously.

"I'll need to reassess his threat level."

Back in the fighting arena...

Derek didn't have to wait long.

The air shifted. A pressure far heavier than before descended upon them.

From the cliffs ahead, larger silhouettes emerged. These monsters were bulkier. Sharper. Their auras were stronger.

Emma's expression tightened. "E-rank… Be careful, guys."

Growls echoed... deeper, more vicious.

Derek's eyes narrowed slightly.

"…Good," he said.

And without a second thought, he dashed forward.... alone.

Once again, the familiar streak of light tore through the battlefield, weaving seamlessly between the advancing horde. These monsters were stronger, their auras denser and more oppressive.

Yet, the way Derek moved, his blades flashing, his steps precise, made it seem as though their increased strength meant nothing at all.

He slaughtered them with effortless ease, as if they were no different from the ones he had already cut down.

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