Thank You,
Knight Teir: "Luis Marrufo"
For Becoming A Member On My Pa'treon. The Emperor Protect.
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The qualifying round, known throughout the Long Sky Star Territory as the Genius's Duel, was always the most anticipated, most widely watched stage of the entire tournament. Unlike earlier phases, luck had no place here; those who advanced were undeniably strong, every one of them the elite among elites. These were the best Level 2 Planetary Lords, veterans of countless battles.
Once again, the competition was scheduled for 8:00 p.m., a prime viewing time. According to the rules, 4,000 contestants would face one another in this round. They would hunt each other down, clashing in high-stakes duels, and the victor would advance.
The defeated would not be eliminated outright but moved into the loser's bracket, a safeguard designed to prevent powerhouse participants from being unfairly knocked out in early rounds due to bad luck.
As before, contestants were required to arrive an hour early. By 7 o'clock, they had begun appearing one after another in the massive rest hall, a chamber now even grander than the last, capable of housing every single one of the four thousand combatants.
Sebastian materialized among them, sweeping his gaze over the rows of seats. Several participants had already claimed chairs, some meditating in silence, others exchanging quiet greetings with familiar faces.
"Hm?" Sebastian's attention snagged on a familiar group. Not far to his left sat several competitors from Giant Island, among them the towering figure of Hess.
"Hey, Hess," A curly-haired man called out with a teasing grin. "This elimination round, you'll be facing Sebastian again, the strongest freshman yet. Planning to settle the score?"
"Get lost!" Hess snapped, his tone cutting like a blade. His expression darkened immediately, a storm brewing behind his sharp eyes. Though two months had passed since his loss to Sebastian, whispers of their match still followed him everywhere.
"Don't take it so seriously," The curly-haired man chuckled. "You might face him in the very first round. Best to be ready."
"I don't need your advice." Hess's scowl deepened, his mood souring further, drawing quiet laughter from nearby competitors.
Sebastian ignored the tension, slipping into a seat and leaning back. He was about to close his eyes and relax when a calm voice reached his ear.
"You're… Sebastian?" Sebastian's eyes flicked open, landing on a striking blond man standing before him.
"I am," Sebastian said smoothly. "What's this about?"
"My name's Tootie," The man introduced himself with an easy smile. "Hess is a close friend of mine."
Tootie. Sebastian recognized the name, another formidable fighter from Giant Island.
"You're here to avenge him?" Sebastian asked, his voice steady.
"In a match, strength speaks for itself. A loss is a loss," Tootie replied, his expression composed but his tone carrying an edge. "Still… you'd better pray you don't face me. If we cross paths, that carefully built pilot of yours will crumble in an instant."
"Is that so?" Sebastian's lips curled into a calm, confident smile. "I suppose we'll find out."
Their exchange didn't go unnoticed. Whispers spread quickly among nearby contestants.
"Is Tootie looking to pick a fight with that freshman?"
"Looks like it. Hess's reputation took a serious hit after that loss. As his friend and one of Giant Island's strongest, Tootie can't let that slide."
"If they actually face off, it'll be entertaining to watch."
"I doubt they'll meet in the first round, and if they do, it won't last long. Tootie's a top-50 favorite. Hess can't compare."
Their voices carried an air of amusement, the atmosphere still relaxed despite the stakes. Confidence radiated from every competitor here. Rankings, reputation, none of that intimidated them. Even those with unimpressive group-stage performances had carefully hidden their true strength.
For these seasoned contenders, points meant nothing. What truly mattered was securing one of the coveted 1,000 qualifying spots. In past tournaments, the elimination rounds had been a graveyard of expectations, dark horses had crushed favorites, and upsets had become legends. Everyone in this hall knew that underestimating an opponent could prove fatal.
Time ticked by. Soon, the clock struck eight.
The 4,000 contestants vanished from the rest hall in an instant, reappearing in an enormous arena, vastly larger than the one used in earlier stages. Its sheer scale was staggering; the Colosseum could hold a billion spectators.
As the contestants arrived, the arena erupted in a deafening roar. Cheers and whistles filled the air, fans chanting the names of their favorite fighters.
"Tootie! Tootie!" The Giant Island supporters dominated the noise, their numbers second only to another group.
Tootie's reputation preceded him: handsome, skilled, and widely regarded as Giant Island's strongest competitor this year.
"Sebastian! Sebastian!" Another wave of cheers surged from the Hope's Peak Academy audience. Sebastian's stunning one-against-five victory had made him a rising star, admired both within the academy and by countless fans beyond.
In one of the private viewing boxes, Clifford, Terrell, Otwin, and another companion joined the cheers, though their enthusiasm was tempered. Their restraint was understandable.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with a commanding presence stood nearby, observing the field below with calm authority. This was Clifford's father, a man whose reputation preceded him.
"Don't mind me," He said with a smile. "I just came to watch. I'll be leaving soon."
Sebastian's triumph over Hess and his advancement to the prestigious Genius's Duel had drawn this veteran warrior's attention. He wasn't just any elder, after all; he was a formidable Level 5 Planetary Lord, his mere presence adding weight to the air and unsettling even top-ranked freshmen like Terrell and Otwin. For them, ascending to his level of power someday felt like scaling a mountain that reached the heavens.
"Welcome," An announcer's voice boomed through the arena, "the 4,000 strongest Level 2 Planetary Lords! Let the preselection tournament begin!"
The cheers intensified.
"First, the lottery ceremony!" The lottery determined the matchups for the opening round, its results shaping the fate of every contestant.
"There are no restrictions on the draw," Clifford's father commented with a knowing smile. "But history shows that early rounds rarely pit top contenders against one another. The organizers do their best to assess strength and keep things balanced."
"But there are always surprises," Clifford said bluntly. "Every tournament sees an unexpected dark horse rise from nowhere."
"That's inevitable," Clifford's father replied with a chuckle. "The council can't uncover every hidden ace, and I suspect this year's crop of underdogs will be especially dangerous."
"Your friend Sebastian is a powerhouse in Group 28," He added. "He likely won't face a major threat in the first round… but he could still run into one of those dark horses."
"How strong is Sebastian, exactly? Uncle, you must know," Terrell asked curiously.
"The major factions have released strength rankings for this match," Clifford's father explained with amusement. "The specifics differ slightly, but there's general agreement. The top ten are undisputed. The top fifty are consistent, too. Your academy's 'Crown Prince' ranks among them.
"As for Sebastian…" He paused, a flicker of intrigue crossing his expression. "Most forces place him around the top hundred. The most optimistic put him in the nineties; the cautious estimate him just outside the top hundred."
"Only a hundredth place? Hess was ranked above eighty in the total points standings..." Otwin frowned deeply, his tone carrying both curiosity and concern.
"That's just the overall points," Clifford explained patiently. "You know as well as I do that in the group stage, no one reveals their full strength." He adjusted his glasses and added, "In truth, Hess's actual strength is somewhere between the upper and lower two hundredth place."
"But still..." Otwin muttered, his brows knitting tighter.
"This ranking only reflects what participants have chosen to show so far," Clifford continued with a sigh, his voice thoughtful. "It doesn't account for those hiding their true power."
"I just hope Sebastian doesn't cross paths with one of those monsters," Otwin said, exhaling sharply.
Clifford chuckled, though the sound carried tension. "Sebastian's luck has always been remarkably good."
Otwin allowed himself a small smile. "Let's see how the draw plays out. If nothing unexpected happens, his first match should be smooth sailing."
The tournament organizers wasted no time. The draw ceremony commenced, the ancient power of origin filling the arena as the mechanism activated. Small glowing spheres spun within a transparent sphere of energy, each one carrying a contestant's number. The process was purely mechanical, untouched by favoritism or manipulation, impartial and absolute.
In the center of the colossal venue, the contestants stood watching with rapt attention as the numbered spheres were plucked from the spinning cloud one by one. High above, millions of spectators followed the process with bated breath. The weaker competitors clasped their hands together, silently praying for fortune.
"Please, not someone in the top fifty," One dark-haired young man thought, his jaw tight. "With my secret weapon, I just need to avoid them, and victory will be mine."
"Anyone but that monster," Another prayed. "His race is practically built to counter mine."
Others clenched their fists, steeling themselves. "Ranked over a thousand? Blind fools. When I'm done, they'll see how wrong they were, and I'll shatter their smug faces with my performance."
A voice rose above the silent tension, filled with fiery resolve. "It doesn't matter who I face. I will be the number one! No, top one hundred in the entire Endless Star Territory! By the time this tournament is over, every star system will know my name!"
Meanwhile, Hess scowled, muttering bitterly, "Great. I've been matched with some monstrous freshman. Of all people, why him? This first round won't be easy."
Every contestant's mind churned with its own blend of anxiety, excitement, and ambition. But one thing united them all: every single competitor wanted to shine, to claim this stage where the eyes of countless civilizations were locked upon them. Even those with little reputation burned with determination, their strength honed and ready to erupt, their names waiting to carve themselves into history.
The ceremony was brisk, the tension broken only by the quiet hum of the mechanism. Within a minute, the results were in. 4,000 contestants. 2,000 matchups.
A gigantic projection of the pairings flared to life in the skies above the arena, dazzling the crowd. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the stands as everyone searched for familiar names.
Sebastian's gaze swept across the glowing board until his eyes locked on his own name and the opponent beside it.
"Harrison Chambers..." Clifford muttered as his brows furrowed. "He's from the Empire. I don't recall that surname among the royals, do you?"
"Imperial royalty doesn't carry the Harrison name," His father responded gravely. "But Harrison is one of the most prominent surnames in the Empire. If I had to guess, he's from the Harrison family, the Empire's leading family."
Clifford scanned the data. "His ranking is over two thousand. Not particularly weak, but not remarkable either."
"Even so," His father said, his expression dark, "a family like the Harrisons won't send someone who reached this stage without a trump card."
"Then he's already better prepared than I was," Clifford muttered dryly.
Down on the arena floor, Chambers's eyes narrowed as he studied Sebastian's name beside his own. A spark of calculation flashed in his gaze.
"They think I'm just another mid-tier fighter," he thought, clenching his fists. "But I've got something more powerful than they realize. My trump card is stronger than anything they expect." He could still feel the sting of his past. "I revealed this weapon at the Family Grand Competition and won, but it made enemies of several direct descendants."
Chambers glanced to his right, where several impeccably dressed young men and women from his family stood, radiating prestige. As the empire's foremost clan, the Harrisons had sent a vast number of Planetary Lords to this tournament. Dozens of them had made it to the top four thousand. Chambers, with his branch bloodline, barely drew notice among them.
"Go ahead, bask in your glory," he thought bitterly. "When I enter the top thousand and earn the Star Council's favor, you'll kneel before me. The position of patriarch will be mine." His lips curled into a grim smile. "I won't even bother acknowledging you when you beg."
A melodious voice echoed across the arena, breaking his dark thoughts, "The first round of eliminations will begin in ten minutes. Contestants, please prepare yourselves."
In an instant, all contestants vanished from the central arena, transported to individual sparring rooms for their matches. The two thousand simultaneous battles created a frenzy among the audience, who raced to select which matches to watch.
"Quick! Let's get to Sebastian's match," Clifford urged as he and his companions hurried toward the correct viewing room.
With limited space, only one hundred million viewers per battle, matches featuring famous competitors filled up almost instantly. Sebastian's match wasn't yet among the most hyped, so Clifford's group secured their spots without issue.
From this round on, the tournament abandoned private boxes. The seats were all uniform, emphasizing the equality of every match, though the roaring crowd's excitement filled the massive room to bursting.
Cheers erupted as fans chanted Sebastian's name, "Sebastian! Sebastian!"
His fame, built upon striking looks and whispers of skill, outshone his opponent's. Only a handful cheered for Chambers.
Inside his sparring chamber, Chambers's face twisted with irritation as the chants reached him.
"Laugh now, cheer for him all you like," he thought coldly. "Once I crush your 'strongest freshman,' let's see if you still remember his name."
The countdown began.
Ten minutes passed in a blur, then the match commenced, and the planet channel opened. This time, the Astra Militarum forces deployed in full as 100,000 Guardsmen surged forth, their disciplined ranks flooding the battlefield.
Above them, 100 3rd Gen Typhoon Fighters roared like hunting hawks, a testament to years of relentless military advancement on Greater Terra. With greater speed and firepower, they were a far cry from their predecessors.
But the planes weren't the only reinforcements; 500 colossal gorillas thundered into the fray, clad in heavy armor and hefting axes larger than men. Their numbers alone had caused internal competition within their own ranks for the right to fight in this battle.
As the rules dictated, once deployed, none of them could retreat through the planetary gate.
A micro-drone zipped into the opposing battlefield first, its sensors scanning for traps. Once confirmed safe, the Guardsmen marched through, forming a fortified defensive line. The gorillas positioned themselves at the outermost edge, serving as the first barrier. Behind them, spider chariots rolled into place, layering the defenses.
A rumble shook the earth as an ominous sound echoed from the opposing portal. From the shadowed depths of Chambers's planet passage, hulking silhouettes emerged, tall, broad, and brimming with power.
The Astra Militarum's team of scientists activated their scanners, analyzing the figures. And then the realization struck. This wasn't just another opponent; they were staring at an entirely new Supernatural species.