Three days had passed since Jade's devastating display against the rank 61 alpha, and the tournament continued. The grand arena had processed hundreds of matches across those seventy-two hours, and the crystalline platform had seen everything from technical masterpieces to complete mismatches. Some fighters had risen to the occasion and exceeded expectations, while others had crumbled under pressure that their training hadn't prepared them for. As the sun climbed toward midday on the third day, the tournament officials were preparing to announce what everyone had been waiting for.
The top one thousand had been determined.
Jade sat in his seat with his eyes closed, listening to the building energy around him as fighters checked their watches obsessively and spectators leaned forward in anticipation. He'd fought 20 more matches over the past three days, each one ending the same way his previous fights had concluded. Quick. Efficient. Overwhelming. The longest match had lasted eight seconds against a woman with some kind of adaptive defense that required three strikes instead of one to penetrate, and the shortest had been another instant forfeit from someone who'd apparently decided that preserving dignity wasn't worth getting demolished on stage.
But what had been most interesting—and Jade had noticed this pattern developing over the three days—was that he hadn't been matched against anyone truly dangerous. Nobody from the top fifty rankings had appeared across from him on that crystalline platform, and he'd started to suspect that wasn't coincidental. The tournament officials were probably protecting their star performers, making sure the highest-ranked fighters didn't eliminate each other in early rounds before the finals could showcase them properly. It made sense from an entertainment perspective, even if it meant Jade's matches continued to be disappointingly one-sided.
The thought didn't bother him particularly. If anything, it confirmed that the real challenges were still ahead, carefully preserved and waiting in the bracket's upper reaches. When he finally faced someone genuinely powerful—someone who could make him use more than just physical dominance—it would be in front of maximum viewership during the finals. The tournament officials were building toward that confrontation deliberately, and Jade was content to let them. He'd waited ten years for this championship. A few more days of easy matches wouldn't hurt.
His watch vibrated, and Jade opened his eyes to see the same alert appearing simultaneously on every fighter's device throughout the arena.
ROUND THREE CONCLUDED.
The crowd's noise built steadily as holographic displays throughout the arena flickered and shifted, preparing to show the results everyone had been anticipating. Around Jade, fighters were gripping their armrests or holding their breath or closing their eyes in prayer to whatever gods they believed in. Some looked confident, certain of their advancement. Others appeared sick with nervous energy, knowing they'd been hovering right around the thousand-mark and that elimination might have come down to a single match result.
Then the displays activated fully, and golden text blazed across every screen simultaneously.
The leaderboard materialized in glowing letters that stretched from ceiling to floor on the massive central display, names scrolling past in descending order from one thousand down to one. The crowd erupted immediately, and the noise was beyond anything Jade had heard even during his most dramatic victories. This was the moment when dreams either continued or died, when months or years of training either paid off or fell short, when fighters learned whether they were among the empire's elite or merely very good.
Jade's eyes tracked across the display without particular emotion, finding his name somewhere in the mid twenties.
RANK 24: PARTICIPANT 847,392 - NEXARION
He'd climbed from 107 to 24, which made sense given that he'd won every match without taking damage or revealing actual capabilities beyond speed. The ranking formula apparently weighted dominance and efficiency, and 30 consecutive flawless victories had pushed him solidly into the tournament's upper tier. Prominent enough that people were definitely watching now.
Around him, reactions varied wildly as fighters found their names or didn't. Two rows down, someone let out a scream of pure joy and launched himself at his companion in a tackle-hug that nearly sent both of them tumbling over the railing. The companion was laughing and crying simultaneously, both of them having apparently made the cut and unable to contain their relief. Three seats to Jade's left, a young woman sat perfectly still with tears streaming down her face in complete silence, her name visible on the display at rank 892. She'd made it by the skin of her teeth, and the reality seemed to be hitting her in waves.
But not everyone was celebrating, and the contrast was stark. Throughout the fighter sections, people were standing and gathering their belongings with expressions that ranged from stoic acceptance to barely contained devastation. These were the ones who'd been eliminated, the ones whose names didn't appear on that golden display, and they were processing failure in front of millions of spectators while trying to maintain whatever dignity they could salvage.
One alpha five rows back was arguing with a tournament official who'd appeared to escort eliminated fighters off the premises, his voice carrying across the section with barely restrained fury. "This is bullshit! I demand a recount! There's no way I didn't make top thousand with my record! Someone must have miscalculated—"
"Your ranking was 1,047," the official said with professional patience that suggested he'd already had this conversation a dozen times today. "The calculations have been verified three times. I'm sorry, but you've been eliminated from tournament competition. You'll need to proceed to the departure area."
"I'm not going ANYWHERE until someone explains how fighters ranked BELOW me during battle rounds somehow ended up ahead! This whole tournament is rigged for—"
"Security," the official said calmly into his communication device, and two large enforcers materialized almost immediately. The alpha's protests grew louder and more creative with profanity as they escorted him away, but nobody really paid attention. Similar scenes were playing out across multiple sections as eliminated fighters struggled to accept their outcomes.
Meanwhile, on the main stage, Majordomo Prime's projection appeared with characteristic dignity, and the crowd's noise gradually subsided as people realized an official announcement was coming. The elderly butler's artificial features radiated satisfaction as his gaze swept across the arena, taking in both the celebrating victors and the departing eliminated.
"Congratulations," his voice boomed across every speaker, "to the one thousand fighters who have proven themselves worthy of continued competition. You represent the top 0.02% of all tournament participants. You have survived where 999,000 others fell. You have earned your place among the empire's finest warriors."
The projection gestured, and suddenly the arena transformed. Holographic graffiti materialized along every wall and barrier, glowing messages of congratulation that scrolled continuously in dozens of languages. "CHAMPIONS OF THE THOUSAND" blazed across the main display. "THE ELITE EMERGE" proclaimed another. "FUTURE LEGENDS" declared a third. It was tacky and over-the-top and exactly the kind of dramatic presentation people expected from imperial entertainment, and the crowd was eating it up with enthusiasm.
"As promised," Majordomo Prime continued, "all one thousand advancing fighters have secured admission to the first academy in the empire , The Celestial Interstellar Institute. Regardless of how you perform in upcoming rounds, your futures as awakeners are assured. This is not a small achievement. This is the foundation upon which careers are built and legacies are forged."
Scattered applause rippled through the eliminated fighters who were still present, some of them managing genuine smiles for the victors despite their own disappointment. Not everyone could be gracious in defeat, but enough were that it created moments of solidarity that cut across the competitive boundaries.
"However," and Majordomo Prime's voice took on a sharper edge that immediately recaptured everyone's attention, "the tournament is far from over. One thousand will become one hundred. One hundred will become twenty. Twenty will become one. The matches ahead will test you in ways the previous rounds could not. Prepare yourselves accordingly."
The projection raised one hand dramatically. "You have four hours to rest, eat, and ready yourselves for semi-final competition. Use this time wisely. When we resume, the true tournament begins."
Then he vanished, and the arena descended into controlled chaos as a thousand victorious fighters processed what came next while four thousand eliminated ones began their departures.
Jade stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders to work out tension from three days of sitting interspersed with brief explosive violence. Four hours wasn't long, but it was enough to meditate properly and make sure his body was completely ready for whatever came next. Around him, other qualified fighters were heading toward the facility's rest areas, some in groups chattering excitedly and others alone with expressions of grim determination.
He noticed Rivan bouncing past with his usual excessive energy, the youth practically vibrating with excitement as he talked rapidly at his long-suffering alpha companion. "Top thousand! We made top thousand! Can you BELIEVE it?! I mean I knew we were good but this is—this is INCREDIBLE! And did you see participant 847,392's ranking?! 24!
"I'm aware, Rivan," the alpha said with the patience of someone who'd been listening to this for three days straight. "You've mentioned it approximately four hundred times."
"But it's SO COOL! When do you think we'll be able to fight him? Do you think he'll—"
Their voices faded as they disappeared into the crowd, but Jade found himself vaguely amused despite everything. At least someone was having fun with this tournament beyond just the winning part.
He made his way toward the premium district's rest facilities, deliberately taking a route that avoided the heaviest traffic. Other fighters gave him space automatically, the ones who'd witnessed his speed display against the alpha apparently having spread word about maintaining respectful distance. Nobody tried to approach him or start conversations, which suited Jade perfectly. He had four hours to prepare, and he intended to use every minute sleeping rather than engaging in pre-match socializing.
But as he walked, he couldn't help overhearing fragments of conversation from the departing eliminated fighters, and some of them were... less than gracious about their outcomes.
"—absolutely RIGGED! There's no way someone from a backwater planet should be ranking that high! Someone probably bribed—"
"—saw his matches and honestly? Not that impressive. Anyone could win if they got matched against weaklings the whole time. I bet he'd have been eliminated first round if he'd faced someone ACTUALLY strong—"
"—just wait until he meets someone in the top hundred. All that mysterious hooded nonsense won't help when he's up against real competition. I give him two matches before—"
Jade let the commentary wash over him without reaction. Let them think what they wanted. Let them believe he'd gotten lucky or that his ranking was inflated or that real competition would expose him as fraud. Their opinions would age poorly when semi-finals began and he continued his systematic advancement, but that was their problem to process.
He reached his assigned rest room—a small private space with a meditation mat and basic amenities—and settled into position with practiced ease. Four hours to center himself. Four hours to prepare mentally for the next phase. Four hours until the tournament's true challenges presumably began.
Jade closed his eyes and let everything else fade away, breathing slow and steady as sleep took hold.
Around the facility, a thousand victorious fighters were celebrating or preparing in their own ways. Four thousand eliminated ones were departing with various degrees of acceptance or bitterness. And millions of spectators were using the break to refresh themselves before semi-finals began.
The tournament had reached its turning point, and everyone could feel it.
The easy matches were over. The real competition was about to start.
.....