The afternoon sun had begun its descent toward the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the arena floor as preparations began for the final qualifying division. The crowd's energy remained high despite hours of continuous combat, anticipation building as they recognized that Master rank warriors would soon demonstrate capabilities far beyond what they'd witnessed in lower divisions.

Raze shifted in his observation seat, his blue eyes scanning the competitors' section where fourteen warriors waited. Master rank represented a significant threshold in cultivation, the point where warriors transcended basic limitations and began manifesting truly extraordinary abilities. Only two needed elimination from this group, meaning the qualifying matches would be brief but likely spectacular.

"Master division is always interesting," Fedora said quietly beside him. "The gap between Master Low and Master Peak can be as significant as the entire Expert division combined."

"Quality over quantity," Mariabel added, her golden eyes tracking the assembled warriors. "Everyone down there has spent years reaching that rank. They won't go down easily."

Logan appeared with his ever present notebook, checking details with the methodical attention that made him an exceptional steward. "Fourteen competitors registered. We need twelve for the bracket stage, so only two qualifying matches are required. Should conclude within the hour unless something unexpected occurs."

Oziel stood nearby, his scarred face showing keen interest as he evaluated potential recruits. His own Grandmaster rank cultivation allowed him to assess Master tier warriors with accuracy that others lacked. "Several solid candidates. That one with the greatsword has Refined stage core at minimum, likely Master Mid despite his registration claiming Master Low. And the woman with the spear shows excellent form."

The referee moved to the center of the arena, his voice carrying across the space with cultivation enhanced projection. "Master division qualifying matches begin now. First match: Gregor, Master Low, versus Lyra, Master Low. Fighting space three."

Two warriors stepped forward, both radiating the substantial presence that marked Master rank cultivation. Their match was exactly what the crowd expected, powerful techniques colliding with force that created visible shockwaves. The woman with the spear ultimately claimed victory after demonstrating superior footwork and timing, her weapon work precise enough to exploit openings in her opponent's aggressive assault.

The crowd appreciated the display, recognizing the skill both warriors had shown despite the relatively straightforward outcome.

"Second qualifying match," the referee announced. "Alvis, Expert Peak, versus Rendall, Master Mid. Fighting space two."

A weathered man in his forties stepped forward from the competitors' section, his appearance immediately distinctive among the assembled Master rank warriors. Brown hair showed premature grey streaking through it, the coloring suggesting either age or significant stress. His face carried lines that spoke to years of hardship, weathered features that had seen considerable conflict.

His physique was remarkable, muscles defined with clarity that suggested decades of relentless physical conditioning. Not bulky, but dense, every line of his body speaking to functional strength rather than aesthetic display. He wore simple martial arts gi, dark blue fabric secured with worn belt, the outfit marking him as a traditional practitioner rather than a modern warrior.

But what drew immediate attention was his cultivation aura. Registered as Expert Peak, yet the energy surrounding his body carried quality that made several Master rank warriors in the competitors' section straighten with sudden wariness. Not stronger in raw power, but focused with intensity that suggested something unusual about his development.

His opponent Rendall was a solid Master Mid warrior, his cultivation clearly backed by Refined stage core. He carried a longsword, a weapon showing the wear of extensive use. His expression showed confidence appropriate to someone facing an opponent theoretically below his rank, though his body language suggested he was taking this match seriously despite the apparent disadvantage his opponent faced.

The referee positioned himself appropriately, verifying both competitors were prepared before signaling the match's beginning.

Neither warrior moved immediately, the opening seconds passing in careful evaluation. Rendall's cultivation aura was steady, Master Mid energy filling the space around him with pressure that should have been overwhelming to anyone at Expert rank. His sword remained sheathed but his hand rested on the hilt, ready to draw the moment opportunity presented itself.

Alvis stood with relaxed posture that seemed almost casual, hands loose at his sides and body language suggesting complete lack of concern about facing an opponent above his rank. His cultivation aura carried that unusual focused intensity, energy compressed in ways that seemed deliberate rather than natural.

Rendall drew his sword, the blade clearing its scabbard with practiced speed. Cultivation energy flowed through the steel immediately, making the weapon glow with power that enhanced its cutting capability significantly. He moved into combat stance, feet positioned for optimal balance and power generation.

Alvis shifted his stance slightly in response, settling into position that looked deceptively casual. His hands remained unclenched, body language still suggesting relaxation despite facing armed Master rank opponent.

Then Rendall attacked.

The Master Mid warrior closed distance with movement that blurred, his sword sweeping toward Alvis's torso in a horizontal cut designed to end the match quickly. Cultivation energy poured through the blade, creating cutting force that would cleave through stone if it connected cleanly.

Alvis's footwork carried him backward, body positioning itself just outside the attack's range with economical movement. But unlike pure evasion, he was already countering, his fist driving toward Rendall's extended wrist with speed that seemed disproportionate to his registered rank.

Thwack!

The impact forced Rendall's sword to waver, compromising his grip strength through precise strike at vulnerable joint. The Master Mid warrior pulled back immediately, recognizing his opponent was far more dangerous than Expert Peak registration suggested.

The crowd noise increased dramatically, spectators recognizing they were witnessing another exceptional display. Expert Peak warrior who'd just compromised Master Mid opponent's weapon control with a single counter strike.

Rendall attacked again, this time launching a combination of cuts that utilized his superior rank's power advantage. Each strike was devastating, blade work backed by Master Mid cultivation that created impacts capable of splitting steel. He was pressing hard now, attempting to overwhelm through sheer force before his opponent's unusual technique could compensate for the rank difference.

Alvis's response was a fluid sequence that demonstrated something extraordinary about his combat methodology.

His footwork carried him through the assault with movements that seemed to flow naturally from one position to the next, body positioning itself where the blade couldn't reach through perfect calculation of distance and timing. And then Raze noticed something that made his transmigrator knowledge activate with sudden recognition.

The breathing pattern.

Controlled rhythm, inhale through nose for precise count, exhale through mouth with deliberate timing. The same distinctive pattern Ban and Berth had displayed, synchronized to movement in a way that seemed integral to technique rather than simple exertion management.

But where the younger warriors had demonstrated early mastery, Alvis's execution was perfected. Each breath cycle enhanced his capabilities with precision that came from decades of refinement, the technique so thoroughly internalized it seemed to be part of his very existence.

His strikes targeted joints and pressure points with the same precision Ban and Berth had displayed, fists impacting Rendall's wrists, elbows, shoulders in rapid succession. But the force behind each blow was substantially greater, hits that would have simply compromised technique in lower rank fights now creating visible impacts that made the Master Mid warrior grunt with pain.

Crack! Thump! Crack!

The sounds of impacts echoed across the arena, each strike demonstrating power that Expert Peak rank shouldn't possess. Rendall's mobility was being systematically compromised, his sword work deteriorating as vulnerable points accumulated damage that reduced his combat effectiveness.

And Alvis's aura began transforming in ways that defied normal cultivation logic. The energy surrounding his body was shifting with each breath cycle, taking on quality that made even Master rank observers lean forward with sudden interest. His cultivation wasn't breaking through to Master rank, but the power he was generating approached that threshold through pure technique and impossible will.

Raze's mind was working rapidly now, connecting details he'd observed throughout the day. Ban and Berth practiced the same breathing technique, same precise targeting, same way of enhancing their capabilities beyond what rank suggested. And now Alvis demonstrated the perfected version, technique refined to the point where it allowed him to challenge Master Mid warrior despite being stuck at Expert Peak.

This was their teacher. The master who'd developed this distinctive combat methodology and passed it to his students. But something about Alvis's situation went beyond simple instruction.

The way his cultivation aura transformed during combat, generating power his rank shouldn't provide. The decades of weathering visible in his features despite physique showing peak conditioning. The focused intensity of his energy that suggested he was compensating for fundamental limitation rather than simply demonstrating superior technique.

On the arena floor, Rendall was faltering. His sword work had deteriorated significantly, accumulated damage to joints and pressure points compromising his ability to execute proper techniques. His cultivation aura remained strong but he couldn't apply that power effectively anymore, his body simply not responding with the precision combat required.

Alvis pressed forward, his movements gaining fluidity that suggested he was warming up rather than tiring. Each breath cycle seemed to refresh him, maintaining stamina that Expert Peak warrior absolutely shouldn't possess during extended engagement with Master Mid opponent. His strikes came faster now, combinations flowing with practiced ease that demonstrated complete mastery of his style.

His final sequence was devastating in its efficiency. Three strikes were delivered in rapid succession, targeting Rendall's sword arm, supporting leg, and exposed ribs. Each impact was placed with surgical precision, force behind them creating damage that would take days to heal properly despite not breaking anything.

Rendall yielded immediately, recognizing he was comprehensively outclassed. "Yield," he said clearly, frustration mixing with genuine respect in his tone.

Alvis stepped back, resetting to a neutral stance before offering a formal bow to his opponent. His breathing had already returned to resting rhythm, that controlled pattern continuing but without the enhanced quality it carried during active combat. His cultivation aura receded as well, returning to the focused intensity it held before the match rather than the overwhelming presence it had achieved at the fight's peak.

The crowd erupted in noise that dwarfed even their reaction to Ban, Berth, and Shiro's exceptional displays. They'd just witnessed Expert Peak warrior defeat Master Mid opponent through pure technical superiority and impossible determination. Someone who shouldn't be able to bridge that gap, doing so anyway through perfected technique that transcended normal cultivation limitations.

The referee declared Alvis the winner, directing Rendall toward healers for treatment. The Master Mid warrior departed with visible confusion mixed with grudging admiration, clearly struggling to process how someone below Master rank had dominated him so thoroughly.

Alvis returned to the competitors' section with the same relaxed bearing he'd displayed approaching the fight, his weathered face showing no particular satisfaction at the victory. His expression remained neutral, as if the outcome had been expected despite defying normal cultivation logic.

In the observation area, recognition clicked fully into place in Raze's mind. The breathing technique, the systematic power generation, the way Alvis could challenge Master rank warriors despite being stuck at Expert Peak. This matched lore from Records of Istea, information about a named character who would become famous in the game's later timeline.

Alvis. Master trainer whose unique Battle Art called Breathflow would revolutionize combat methodology across multiple kingdoms. Developer of technique that allowed practitioners to generate strength exceeding their cultivation rank by optimizing every aspect of combat efficiency. And critically, someone who'd created this system specifically to compensate for having a shattered core that prevented normal advancement beyond Expert Peak.

The man who'd just dominated a Master Mid warrior shouldn't be able to cultivate past Expert Peak at all. His core was damaged beyond normal repair, a container that couldn't expand no matter how much mana he accumulated. Yet he'd developed methodology that let him generate Master level power through pure technique, and more importantly, he could teach others to surpass their limitations through the same principles.

Ban and Berth were his students. That was why they demonstrated the same breathing patterns, same precise targeting, same way of enhancing capabilities beyond what rank suggested. They were learning Breathflow at earlier development stages, building foundation that would let them transcend normal cultivation barriers as they advanced.

"That one is priority recruitment," Oziel said, his scarred face showing immediate recognition of Alvis's exceptional capabilities. "I don't care what his registration says. Anyone who can defeat Master Mid warrior while stuck at Expert Peak possesses abilities we absolutely need."

"His technique links him to the other two from earlier," Fedora observed, her sharp eyes having tracked the similarities immediately. "Same breathing pattern, same precise targeting. He taught them."

"Definitely their instructor," Raze confirmed, keeping his tone carefully neutral despite recognizing exactly who Alvis was and what his training methodology represented. "All three use the same fundamental approach but at different development stages. He's perfected what they're still learning."

Mariabel's golden eyes remained fixed on where Alvis had disappeared into the competitors' section. "But how did he develop something that lets him challenge Master rank warriors while stuck at Expert Peak? That shouldn't be possible."

"Necessity breeds innovation," Oziel said quietly. "If someone can't advance through normal means, they either accept limitation or find alternative path. He clearly chose the latter and succeeded beyond what should be achievable."

Raze leaned closer to Oziel, his voice dropping to ensure only the Grandmaster could hear. "Make sure we secure that one. Whatever it takes, I want him on our side."

Oziel's expression showed understanding and approval. "Considered done. I'll approach him personally after the qualifiers conclude. Someone with his capabilities and teaching methodology is worth significant investment."

The matches continued as the sun descended further toward the horizon. Several more Master rank warriors demonstrated their capabilities, solid displays of cultivation techniques and combat skill that kept the crowd engaged despite following Alvis's exceptional performance.

Then the final qualifying match was announced.

"Last match: Shade, Master Low, versus Darian, Master Low. Fighting space four."

A figure stepped forward from the competitors' section, immediately drawing attention through sheer mysteriousness. They wore heavy hooded cloak that concealed their features completely, dark fabric falling to just above their boots. The hood was pulled low enough that even their face remained in shadow, identity hidden deliberately.

Their physique was difficult to determine beneath the concealing cloak, though their movement suggested lean build prioritizing speed over raw power. Twin daggers were secured at their waist, weapons visible through openings in the cloak's sides. The blades showed distinctive curved design, hilts wrapped in dark leather that had seen extensive use.

The hooded figure's cultivation aura was controlled to the point of being barely detectable, Master Low energy compressed so tightly it created almost no external pressure. Deliberate suppression that suggested either exceptional control or specific training in concealment techniques.

Their opponent Darian was straightforward Master Low warrior, his cultivation backed by what appeared to be Tempered stage core at minimum. He wielded a standard longsword, weapon showing the quality befitting someone at his rank. His expression showed wariness as he evaluated the mysterious hooded competitor, clearly uncertain what to expect from someone who'd chosen to conceal their identity so thoroughly.

The referee positioned himself appropriately, verifying both competitors were prepared before signaling the match's beginning.

The hooded figure moved first.

Their speed was exceptional, body crossing the distance between starting positions so quickly it seemed to bypass the space between. The twin daggers appeared in their hands without visible draw, blades simply materializing as if they'd always been there.

Darian barely managed to raise his sword in time, steel meeting steel with impact that rang across the arena.

Clang!

But the hooded figure was already repositioning, footwork carrying them around Darian's guard with fluidity that suggested extensive training in close quarters combat. Their daggers moved in flowing sequence, cuts and thrusts targeting vulnerable points with precision that forced Darian to defend desperately.

The crowd leaned forward, recognizing they were watching another exceptional display. The hooded figure's technique was a remarkable, dual wielding style that created constant pressure through relentless assault from multiple angles simultaneously.

Darian attempted to create distance, recognizing his longer weapon should provide advantage if he could maintain proper range. But the hooded figure stayed inside his optimal distance, daggers deflecting his sword while their footwork prevented him from disengaging effectively.

Swish! Clang! Thunk!

The sounds of combat filled the arena as blades met and parted in rapid exchanges. The hooded figure's daggers moved with precision that spoke to years of dedicated practice, each strike flowing naturally into the next without wasted motion.

Their cultivation aura remained tightly controlled throughout, Master Low energy compressed so thoroughly it gave no indication of their actual capabilities. Only their technique revealed their skill, blade work demonstrating mastery of dual dagger combat that few warriors achieved.

The match concluded within two minutes, Darian yielding after recognizing he couldn't overcome his opponent's superior close quarters technique and relentless pressure. The hooded figure stepped back immediately, daggers returning to their sheaths with smooth movement before they bowed formally to their opponent.

Then they returned to the competitors' section without removing their hood, identity remaining completely concealed despite their victory. Their cultivation aura compressed even further, presence becoming so subtle it was difficult to track them through the crowd.

The referee declared the hooded competitor the winner, bringing the Master division qualifiers to their conclusion. Twelve warriors had advanced to the bracket stage, including Alvis and the mysterious hooded figure alongside several solid Master rank cultivators.

As the arena began preparations for the evening's conclusion, Raze's mind worked through the implications of what he'd witnessed. Five exceptional warriors had appeared at his tournament, each demonstrating capabilities that exceeded normal expectations in different ways.

Ban, Berth, and Alvis were connected through Breathflow, the Battle Art that would revolutionize combat training throughout the kingdoms. Shiro with his exceptional swordsmanship. The hooded figure remained a complete mystery, their identity and motivations unknown but their skill undeniable.

The pattern of exceptional talent appearing at his tournament couldn't be a simple coincidence. These warriors possessed capabilities that marked them as far above average, techniques that suggested dedicated training under skilled instruction.

Tomorrow the bracket stage would begin, revealing even more about their capabilities as they faced increasingly challenging opponents. But tonight, as the sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon and the crowd began dispersing toward evening accommodations, Raze recognized that his tournament had already succeeded in one critical objective.

It had drawn exceptional talent from across his domain and beyond, warriors whose capabilities would strengthen his forces significantly if he could recruit them successfully.

The question was what they sought beyond simple employment, and whether their presence represented pure opportunity or complications he'd need to navigate carefully.

The first day of the tournament concluded with those questions unanswered, mysteries that would require observation and investigation to resolve properly as the competition continued into its second day.

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