The moment the ancient elder's final word echoed throughout the Neutral Galaxy of Andimadoria—
the universe seemed to awaken.
"BEGIN."
The countless platforms floating across the endless cosmic arena began to shine.
One hundred colossal battlefields.
Six thousand candidates.
Six thousand beings chosen by the universe itself as potential successors to extraordinary physiques.
Every one of them had defeated countless geniuses within their own worlds.
Every one of them carried unimaginable pride.
And now—
only one hundred would remain.
Above the battlefield, an enormous celestial mechanism appeared.
It was not a machine made of metal.
It was formed from countless streams of laws and energy, moving like the gears of the universe itself.
Names started appearing.
The candidates watched in complete silence.
Some closed their eyes.
Some smiled confidently.
Some looked at their future opponents with open hostility.
Then—
William's eyes focused on a single line of glowing text.
Group 65.
His name had appeared.
For a moment, he remained expressionless.
The number did not matter.
The opponent did not matter.
What mattered was victory.
The surrounding spectators quickly turned their attention toward the group containing the candidate of the Immortal Body.
Many of the ancient beings in the audience showed curiosity.
They had heard rumors.
The disciple of Androw
The being who had touched the threads of existence before obtaining his true body.
A terrifying possibility .
Yet even among the monsters gathered here—
he was not the only terrifying existence.
Within Group 65, two names attracted immediate attention.
The first was a tall man wrapped in a cloak the color of fresh blood.
His eyes were dark crimson, and every heartbeat from his body released a faint, terrifying vibration.
The candidate of the Crimson Blood Physique.
A body capable of controlling blood itself.
Not merely his own.
But the blood of every living creature around him.
To ordinary warriors, facing him was a nightmare.
A single mistake.
A single wound.
A single drop of blood exposed.
And the battle could end instantly.
The second was a woman dressed in black robes.
Her beauty was unusual.
Not because she was attractive.
But because she looked as if life itself was being drained around her.
The grass beneath her feet withered.
The tiny organisms floating in the air died the moment they approached her.
The candidate of the Life-Thief Physique.
A body capable of stealing the vitality of others.
The longer a battle continued—
the stronger she became.
And the weaker her opponents became.
The remaining candidates were not weak.
In any ordinary era, they would have been called unparalleled geniuses.
But standing beside such monsters—
their brilliance was hidden.
One of them looked at William and laughed.
"So this is the famous candidate of the Immortal Body?"
Another crossed his arms.
"You do not look special."
William looked at them quietly.
No anger.
No pride.
No need to respond.
The greatest mountains did not answer the insults of ants.
A voice spread through the entire arena.
"All candidates, enter your platforms."
Instantly—
movement exploded everywhere.
Some candidates tore through space.
Some transformed into beams of light.
Others rode storms, flames, or shadows.
The spectators watched with excitement.
Each entrance was a declaration.
A display of confidence.
William took a simple step.
But the space beneath him folded.
His body appeared in the center of Platform 65.
No flashy display.
No unnecessary energy.
Only absolute control.
The Blood Candidate narrowed his eyes.
The Life-Thief candidate watched silently.
They understood something.
A person who did not seek attention was often the most dangerous.
The countdown appeared above every platform.
10
The atmosphere became heavy.
Every candidate prepared their abilities.
9
Blood started floating around the crimson candidate.
Thousands of tiny droplets emerged from his pores, forming weapons.
Swords.
Spears.
Needles.
Each carrying deadly precision.
8
Dark green energy gathered around the Life-Thief candidate.
The very concept of vitality seemed to tremble.
7
William simply stood still.
His arms relaxed at his sides.
The audience became confused.
Was he underestimating them?
Or was he waiting?
5
The entire universe became silent.
Every eye was focused on the one hundred platforms.
3
The pressure reached its peak.
1
The number disappeared.
No referee.
No warnings.
No mercy.
Only one rule:
Do not kill.
The First Stage had begun.
The Crimson Blood Candidate moved first.
His hand reached forward.
Thousands of blood needles shot toward William at speeds surpassing sound.
At the same moment, the other candidates attacked.
Fire.
Lightning.
Sound waves.
Blades of energy.
The battlefield became a storm of destruction.
Yet William did not move.
He simply opened his eyes.
And looked at the world differently.
Not as objects.
Not as attacks.
But as relationships.
Invisible connections.
Every force.
Every movement.
Every intention.
Everything was connected.
His fingers moved.
And he cut them.
The blood needles lost their connection to him.
They passed beside his body as if he did not exist.
The flames reached him—
and became harmless.
The lightning lost its target.
The energy blades dispersed.
The spectators froze.
"What happened?"
"Did their attacks miss?"
"No..."
An ancient observer narrowed his eyes.
"He erased their relationship with himself."
William finally moved.
His hands and feet became covered in a faint, mysterious energy.
Not the power of his future body.
But the strange force he had discovered while creating the platforms beneath the palace.
A force that existed beyond ordinary atomic interactions.
He took a step forward.
Then—
he punched empty air.
A simple punch.
Nothing happened.
Many spectators frowned.
Then—
the air in front of the Blood Candidate exploded.
BOOOOOOM!
The man crossed his arms too late.
His blood shield shattered.
His body flew across the platform.
Before he could recover—
William kicked the air
A shockwave appeared behind another candidate.
CRACK!
Bones broke.
The candidate was thrown out of the arena.
William did not attack his enemies.
He attacked the pathways between space itself.
His blows traveled through the hidden structure of reality.
They appeared wherever he desired.
Every strike ignored distance.
Every attack was impossible to predict.
Across the other ninety-nine platforms, battles erupted.
Candidates were eliminated one after another.
Some fights ended in seconds.
Others became brutal struggles between monsters.
And among them—
other famous names began displaying their power.
On Platform 29...
Mike stepped forward.
A smile appeared on his face.
"Let's make this quick."
His aura exploded.