[Obtained new skill: Omniscience]
Divine Rank Skill: Omniscience — The user can perfectly see the flow of mana.
'Divine?'
Drakis couldn't help but smile when he saw the skill's rank. After all, it was the highest rank anyone in his world knew.
All skills were classified by six different ranks, each one insurmountably greater than the one below it.
Until now, Drakis had only ever had a single bronze skill, which was the lowest rank. The only reason he even had that was because of the rigorous training his mentor put him through.
Despite his complete lack of mana, Drakis made sure to practice swordsmanship every single day, finally reaching a bronze rank just three days before his execution.
'None of that matters anymore,' Drakis decided. Even if he was weak in the past, he would never be weak in the future. Never.
With such a powerful skill, there wouldn't be an excuse to be weak anyway.
"Oh... that's your skill." A low, soft voice whispered behind him. It was mostly empty, but he could hear a soft tinge of sadness and regret.
"What's wrong with it?" Drakis asked, confused. As far as he could tell, the skill was rather strong.
Aside from the obvious quality associated with its rank, the skill itself seemed good.
Mana was everywhere. It soaked the earth and its inhabitants, strengthening them to unparalleled levels.
One of the core tenets of increasing one's strength was intrinsically connected to the flow of mana. By matching one's internal flow of mana with the natural wavelength of the world, they naturally increased the strength of their soul.
In short, the more someone understood mana, the greater their capacity for strength became.
Additionally, if he could see other people's flow of mana, it would be easy to predict their next moves.
Therefore, Drakis didn't know why she was upset. Unless she wanted him to die.
"Well, it's not a weak skill," the lady began her explanation. "It's just, most people die before they can properly use it. For a first skill, it's really bad."
Drakis flashed a smile as she confessed. "So what you're saying is this: you're scared I'm gonna die?"
"Wh- what?!" The lady stammered, her previously saddened expression suddenly becoming flustered. "N-no..."
"Either way," Drakis shrugged as he turned to leave the library. "I'm not going to die."
As Drakis walked past her, the lady couldn't help but be surprised at his bold confidence. For a few seconds, she simply stood there dumbfounded, her eyes wide.
Then she realized that she still had to lead him to the barracks and, with a simple shake of her head, pushed aside her caring thoughts and assumed the role of a servant of the arena.
...
"And this is where you can select your weapon," the lady said, offering a quick motion to the weapon racks before standing still, holding her papers at her side.
Drakis nodded, almost relieved that the tour was over.
For the last ten minutes, she had led him through the barracks, showing Drakis where the maps were, where to find his next match, and finally where the armor and weapons were located.
Every new contestant was given a choice between light armor and heavy armor and then a choice between five weapons: a longsword, shortsword and shield, bow and arrow, daggers with throwing knives, and a flail.
Drakis studied each of the weapons, trying to decide which one would work best with his skill.
The longsword was instantly eliminated as it was far too clunky to use. With his skill, he wanted a weapon that would allow him easy maneuverability and swift counterattacks.
Therefore, he eliminated the bow and flail as well. Even if he could easily dodge with a bow, Drakis figured that it would take too long to draw an arrow, aim, and deliver a killing shot.
However, his last two choices weren't that easy to eliminate. Both a shortsword and daggers offered great maneuverability. Of course, the daggers were king in that regard. As long as he never had to block a strike, he knew he would be golden.
Drakis was smart enough to put aside such a fantasy, though. Even with his skill, he had no doubt that this arena would produce fighters who were able to counter his skill, at least to some extent. After all, one of the first lessons his mentor taught him was that "it doesn't matter if you can see an attack coming if you can't stop it."
That didn't mean the daggers were useless, though. Because they came with throwing knives, Drakis knew he could use this weapon to control a fight. It was possible that he would never even need to block a strike.
The battle plan was simple. He would keep his distance, using the skill to learn his opponent's pattern. Then, using his throwing knives, he would keep them off balance until he could close in for the kill.
It almost seemed perfect—if only a real battle wasn't chaotic.
The truth he realized was that neither weapon was truly perfect. Both had their strengths and weaknesses.
Still, to him, his choice had perfect logic. He wasn't going to wait for anyone to attack him ever again. Instead, he would lead the charge, dictate the fight, and end up the victor every time.
Therefore, he reached into the weapon rack and pulled a pair of daggers. Fastening them to either side of his light armor, he then reached back in to grab the throwing knives.
He attached eight of them in a small leather strap across the front of his armor. For a few seconds, he practiced taking them out as quickly as possible.
His movement was clunky, but it would have to be serviceable.
The first match, his first step to revenge, was about to begin.
Tugging his armor into place one last time, Drakis turned to the lady and said, "I'm ready. See ya soon."
She simply nodded, wishing she could share his confidence. Even though her millennia of professional experience hid her inner turmoil, the truth was simple:
She was tired of watching her Chosen die.