The dirt arena was stained with sweat.
The twenty-five surviving students stood in a loose line. They were breathing heavily. The first round had burned off their nervous energy. Now, only pure physical exhaustion and adrenaline remained.
Instructor Thorne picked up the square wooden box. He stood in the center of the newly drawn chalk circles.
"Round two," Thorne announced. His deep voice carried easily over the quiet crowd. "Twenty-five students. Twelve pairs. One free pass. The blank paper advances automatically."
He held the box out. The line started moving.
The students did not hesitate this time. They knew the drill. They reached into the dark hole, pulled their fate, and stepped away.
Rian stepped up. He pulled a folded chit. "Number three," he muttered, gripping his heavy ash-wood spear. He walked back to the wall.
Elin went next. She drew her paper. "Number nine." She spun her dull daggers nervously in her hands.
Luna walked up to the giant instructor. She looked exhausted. Using the spatial distortion in the first round had drained her Foundation Level 7 core significantly. Her hands shook as she reached into the wooden box. She pulled out a small, folded square.
She unfolded it.
She stared at the paper. There was no black ink on it. It was completely blank.
She blinked. She turned the paper over. It was blank on both sides. She looked up at Instructor Thorne.
Thorne looked down at the white paper. He gave a single, slow nod.
"The bye," Thorne stated loudly. "Number nineteen sits out. She advances to round three."
Luna let out a massive, shuddering breath. Her shoulders completely slumped. The heavy, terrifying weight of having to fight another brutal match instantly vanished. She closed her eyes and pressed the blank paper against her chest. It was pure, random luck.
Jin watched from the back of the line. He approved of the variable.
It was a massive logistical blessing. Luna was his support asset. She was a ledger keeper, not a frontline fighter. Skipping a round meant she conserved her Aether. It also meant she did not have to expose her spatial manipulation technique to the rest of the class a second time. The longer she kept her exact abilities hidden, the more effective they would be in the jungle.
Jin stepped up to the box.
He reached his hand inside. He grabbed a piece of paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it.
Number five.
He did not show any emotion. He just walked over to the weapon pile. He picked up his heavy, dull iron falchion. He rested the flat blade against his right shoulder.
"Matches one through six," Thorne shouted. "Enter the rings."
Jin walked toward the white chalk boundary of circle five. He stepped over the line. He waited for his opponent.
A boy stepped into the ring from the opposite side.
Jin ran a rapid threat assessment. The boy was short, but he was built like a solid brick wall. His arms and legs were incredibly thick. He wore heavy leather armor reinforced with iron plates.
He was Foundation Level 9.
He did not carry a sword or a spear. He carried a heavy iron mace in his right hand. In his left hand, he held a massive, thick iron tower shield. It was almost as tall as he was.
The boy slammed the bottom edge of the heavy shield into the dirt. He crouched low behind it. He peered over the top edge of the iron. He smiled confidently.
He had watched Jin's first match. He saw Jin knock out the blonde noble in exactly one second. He knew Jin's entire strategy was a single, heavy downward chop.
"You are a one-trick pony," the boy said behind the shield. His voice echoed slightly against the iron. "That heavy sword is too slow. I will block your chop, and when your blade bounces off my shield, I will break your knee with my mace."
It was a perfectly sound tactical plan. The boy had identified Jin's primary attack pattern and selected the exact tools to counter it.
Jin did not reply. He did not care about the boy's tactical analysis.
"Begin," the referee shouted.
The shield boy did not charge. He stayed perfectly still. He kept his center of gravity incredibly low. He braced his heavy boots in the dirt. He waited for Jin to come to him. He was a human fortress.
Jin obliged him.
Jin walked forward. He did not run. He did not try to circle around the heavy shield. He walked in a perfectly straight line directly toward the center of the iron wall.
He engaged his Foundation Level 9 core. The dense Aether from the Devourer breathing technique flooded his muscles. His arms felt like thick steel cables.
He reached the center of the ring. He stood exactly three feet away from the heavy iron shield.
He raised his massive iron falchion high above his right shoulder.
The shield boy braced himself. He angled the top of the shield slightly upward, preparing to deflect the incoming blow and let it slide off the metal surface. He tightened his grip on his mace, ready to counter-attack.
Jin did not aim for the boy's exposed head. He did not try to trick him by aiming for his legs.
He aimed dead center on the thickest part of the iron shield.
He brought the heavy broadsword down in a brutal, straight chopping motion. He put his entire body weight, the raw gravity of the heavy blade, and the absolute density of his Level 9 muscles into the swing.
The dull iron falchion slammed into the center of the iron tower shield.
CLANG.
The sound was deafening. It sounded like a massive church bell cracking in half. A sharp shockwave blew the dry dirt away from their boots in a perfect circle.
The boy's tactical plan failed instantly.
The physics were completely mismatched. The boy thought a heavy iron shield would stop a heavy iron sword. He failed to calculate the density of the person swinging it.
Jin's sword did not bounce off. It did not slide away.
The sheer kinetic force of the impact transferred directly through the thick iron shield. The metal warped inward violently, forming a massive, deep dent exactly where Jin's blade struck.
The kinetic shockwave did not stop at the metal. It traveled straight into the boy's left arm bracing the shield.
A loud, wet crack echoed through the ring. The boy's forearm snapped in half under the immense pressure. The heavy shield slammed backward into his own chest. The blunt force knocked all the oxygen out of his lungs.
The boy dropped the shield. He dropped the mace.
He fell entirely backward, landing flat on his back in the dirt. He gasped for air, his face turning pale green. He clutched his broken left arm. His eyes were wide with pure shock and agonizing pain.
He could not breathe. He could not stand up. He was completely neutralized.
Jin stopped his heavy blade right where the shield used to be. He held the position for a second. He did not swing a second time. The transaction was over.
The referee stared at the deep, massive dent in the discarded iron tower shield. He looked at Jin. He swallowed hard.
"Winner," the referee declared quickly.
Jin lowered his sword. He turned around and walked out of the white chalk circle.
He walked back to the cold steel wall. Luna was sitting in the dirt, holding her blank piece of paper. She looked up at him. She had seen the impact. She had heard the bone snap.
"He had a giant shield," Luna whispered.
"A shield is just a door," Jin stated flatly. He sat down next to her. He rested the heavy falchion across his knees. "If you do not have the key, you just break the door."
He looked back at the arena.
The other matches were finishing. Rian was fighting a brutal, bloody match against a girl with a heavy axe. Rian's spear technique was solid, but he was taking heavy glancing blows to his shoulders. He eventually won by sweeping her legs out from under her, but he was limping badly.
Elin won her match easily. Her speed legacy made her too fast for her opponent to track. She darted in, delivered three blunt strikes to the ribs, and darted out.
The second round ended. The medical teams dragged the twelve losers away. Some had broken bones. Others had severe concussions. The green healing liquid was poured down their throats.
Instructor Thorne walked back to the center of the room. The wooden box was in his hand.
"Round two is over," Thorne shouted. The remaining students flinched at the volume. "Thirteen students left. Six pairs. One free pass. Get to the box. Do not slow down."
The tournament was moving incredibly fast. It was a grinder. The physical toll on the remaining fighters was obvious. They were covered in dirt and bruises. Their chests heaved.
Jin stood up. The Aether drain was starting to affect him, but his Devourer foundation was vast. He picked up his sword. It was time to draw the next number.