Hour Five, Eastern Wetlands
The swamp stretched for kilometers in every direction, thick with mist that clung to the water's surface like a living thing. Trees with roots like gnarled fingers rose from the murky depths, their branches draped with moss that filtered the weak sunlight into an eerie green glow.
And everywhere, creatures.
Kaelen Voss stood on a partially submerged stone platform, his bare feet finding purchase on the slick surface as he surveyed the hunting ground before him. At twenty-one, he cut an unusual figure among tournament participants. No armor. No visible weapons. Just simple cloth wrappings and the kind of stillness that came from absolute confidence in one's abilities.
His talent was S-rank Hydromancy, and in a swamp, he was essentially a god.
Kaelen raised one hand, and the water responded like an extension of his body. The entire surface within fifty meters began to ripple, small waves forming and spreading outward in perfect geometric patterns. Then those ripples intensified, building into currents, into whirlpools, into a maelstrom that dragged everything in the water toward a central point.
Creatures that had been lurking beneath the surface were pulled from hiding. D-rank Marsh Stalkers with their camouflaged hides. C-rank Venom Eels that could paralyze prey with a touch. Even a few B-rank Bog Behemoths, massive amphibious creatures that normally dominated this territory.
All of them were pulled helplessly toward the center of Kaelen's whirlpool, unable to resist the overwhelming force of manipulated water. They thrashed and struggled, but water was everywhere in a swamp. Fighting Kaelen here was like trying to fight the environment itself.
When the creatures were clustered together in a writhing mass at the whirlpool's center, Kaelen clenched his fist. The water compressed inward like a closing hand, pressure increasing until it exceeded what flesh and bone could withstand. Bodies were crushed, organs ruptured, and the water turned red with blood.
Forty-three creatures died in less than twenty seconds.
POINTS: 4,004
CURRENT RANK: 7
Kaelen's expression didn't change.He felt neither satisfaction nor excitement. Just calm acceptance of expected results. He'd trained in wetlands and oceans his entire life specifically to maximize his talent's effectiveness. This swamp was perfect territory for him.
He began walking across the water's surface, each step creating small ripples as he moved deeper into the wetlands. His senses, enhanced by his connection to water, detected another large concentration of creatures about two kilometers northeast.
Time to continue hunting.
...
...
Hour Five, Northern Badlands
The ground was cracked and barren, all reddish rock and sand with occasional patches of dead vegetation. Heat shimmered off the surface despite the artificial atmospheric regulation, creating distortions that made distance difficult to judge.
Syra Mercer crouched behind a boulder, her dark skin blending with the shadows as she observed the creature pack moving through the valley below. Fifteen C-rank Sand Raptors, fast and vicious pack hunters with scales that reflected heat to keep them cool in this harsh environment.
At eighteen, Syra was younger than most top performers, but her A-rank Shadow Assassination talent made her lethal beyond her years. She'd trained with the Continental Assassin's Guild since she was seven, learning patience and precision and the art of the perfect kill.
She waited until the Raptors were spread out across the valley floor, their attention focused on a dead creature they'd brought down earlier. Then she moved.
Shadow-travel carried her into the pack's center in less than a heartbeat. Her daggers, coated in paralytic poison, found throats and spines with surgical precision. Three Raptors died before the others even registered her presence.
The pack exploded into motion, their pack hunter instincts screaming warnings as they converged on the threat in their midst. But Syra was already gone, shadow-traveling to the pack's edge where she killed two more before disappearing again.
This was her element. Ambush. Assassination. Strike from darkness and vanish before the enemy could respond. The Raptors were fast, but she was faster. They were coordinated, but she was unpredictable. They were hunters, but she was a predator.
Eight minutes later, fifteen corpses littered the valley floor.
POINTS: 3,647
CURRENT RANK: 18
Syra wiped her daggers clean and checked her watch. Good progress. Not spectacular, but steady and sustainable. Her talent wasn't built for flashy displays or massive creature eliminations like some of the top rankers. She specialized in precision kills, in eliminating high-value targets efficiently.
Quality over quantity. That was the assassin's way.
She vanished into shadow again, already moving toward her next target.
...
Back at the arena: Commentator Stations
"And we have a new number two!" Theron's voice carried excitement that had the arena crowd cheering. "Kaelen Voss just jumped from rank twenty-three to rank seven with a devastating display in the eastern wetlands! Five thousand two hundred thirty-four points!"
The feed showed Kaelen's whirlpool massacre from multiple angles, the sheer scope of the devastation making even experienced awakeners in the audience gasp.
"That's S-rank talent for you!" Lyra added. "In water-rich environments, Kaelen is essentially unstoppable! And look at his efficiency! Minimal mana expenditure, maximum effect! That's the hallmark of a master manipulator!"
Another commentator jumped in from a different station. "But Darius Kane isn't letting up! Currently at six thousand one hundred forty-seven points and still climbing! He's maintaining that top spot through sheer relentless aggression!"
The feed switched to show Darius demolishing a B-rank Mountain Troll with his bare hands, the creature's skull caving in under repeated punches that left craters in the stone beneath them.
"And Cassia Mordren is now rank three!" a third commentator announced. "Four thousand nine hundred eighty-two points! Her team is moving through the southern sector like a military operation, which I suppose makes sense given their Silverpeak training!"
The rankings updated across all displays:
1. PARTICIPANT 847 - 6,147 POINTS
2. PARTICIPANT 94,732 - 5,234 POINTS
3. PARTICIPANT 1,234 - 4,982 POINTS
4. PARTICIPANT 12,094 - 4,223 POINTS
5. PARTICIPANT 7,621 - 4,019 POINTS
"Top thousand threshold is now at two thousand eight hundred thirty-one points," Theron announced. "Which means the competition is getting fiercer by the hour! Anyone below three thousand points is in danger of falling out of advancement range if they don't pick up their pace!"
---
Hour Six, Arena Gambling Halls
The betting activity had intensified as patterns began emerging from the chaos. Bookmakers were constantly adjusting odds based on current performance data, and bettors were trying to identify which fighters would maintain their pace versus which ones would burn out.
"Darius Kane, still favorite for top ten at even odds!"
"Kaelen Voss, new odds at three-to-two for top five!"
"Cassia Mordren, holding steady at two-to-one for top three!"
In one section, a group of professional gamblers were analyzing data on their datapads, looking for inefficiencies in the odds.
"Participant 88,302 is interesting," one muttered. "Dropped from rank five to rank forty-seven in the last hour. Either he's pacing himself or he's hitting diminishing returns on his hunting grounds."
"Could be strategic," another suggested. "Staying off the main feeds to avoid drawing attention. Let everyone else exhaust themselves fighting for top spots while he conserves energy."
"Or he could just be struggling. Hard to say this early."
"What about participant 45,677? She's been climbing steadily. Currently rank sixty-three."
"Academy scouts are already flagging her. A-rank talent and that powerful at seventeen is valuable. If she makes top thousand, her odds will shift dramatically as recruitment offers start coming in."
Similar conversations were happening throughout the gambling district. Professional bettors trying to find edges. Casual fans betting on their favorite fighters. Scouts placing wagers on participants they'd already flagged for recruitment.
The tournament was as much an economic event as a sporting one.
....
At the same time, Valtorian Galaxy, House Herculio Estate
Duke Valemir Vonrath Herculio had been watching the feeds for six hours now, his wine glass long since emptied and forgotten. His expression remained neutral, but his aide had learned to read the subtle signs of interest. The slight lean forward. The way his eyes tracked specific participants more carefully than others.
"Kaelen Voss is impressive," Valemir said quietly. "S-rank talent, yes, but more importantly, he understands environment utilization. He's not just powerful, he's strategic about when and where to apply that power."
His aide made notes. "Flag for potential recruitment?"
"Possibly. Monitor his performance through the week. If he maintains that level of tactical awareness, he could be valuable."
The feeds cycled through various top performers. Darius Kane smashing through creatures with brute force. Cassia Mordren coordinating her team with military precision. Syra Mercer executing perfect assassinations from shadow.
All competent. All well-trained. All exactly what their respective backgrounds and investments would produce.
Nothing particularly surprising yet.
"Any unusual activity in the lower ranks?" Valemir asked.
"Several participants showing unexpected performance relative to their planet classifications," his aide replied, pulling up data. "Participant 88,302 from House Mordian exceeded predictions significantly before falling off the pace. Participant 45,677 is outperforming her academy's projections. And there's been unusual betting activity around a few participants in the fifty-thousand range, though nothing that's reached the feeds."
"Unusual betting activity often indicates insider information," Valemir noted. "Either participants with hidden capabilities or deliberately suppressed performance data. Monitor those with significant odds movement."
"Already flagged, my lord."
Valemir nodded and returned his attention to the feeds. Six hours into a week-long elimination round. Still too early to draw firm conclusions, but patterns were beginning to emerge.
----------------
Hour Seven, Central Forest
Jade stood in a clearing surrounded by the corpses of nineteen B-rank Forest Drakes. Shadow tendrils were still dissipating into the air around him, the remnants of the technique he'd used to crush their skulls simultaneously.
CURRENT RANK: 1,034
He checked his watch, noted the ranking, and continued moving. His void sense stretched outward, mapping the forest for the next concentration of creatures worth hunting. The elimination round had settled into a rhythm. Hunt, kill, accumulate points, move to the next location. Simple and efficient.
Around him, the forest continued its chaos. Occasional screams in the distance as participants and monsters alike died. The roar of creatures defending territory. The sound of combat echoing through trees.
Jade tuned it all out and focused on his own hunt. Three kilometers south, another dungeon remnant with A-rank signatures clustered around it. He shadow-traveled in that direction.
---
Hour Seven, Arena Private Boxes - Stormbreaker Guild
Three guild recruiters sat around a holographic display, reviewing their flagged participants.
"Syra Mercer is perfect for us," one said, highlighting her profile. "A-rank Shadow Assassination, eighteen years old, already trained by the Continental Guild. If we can poach her with better contract terms, she'd be an incredible asset for our covert operations division."
"The Continental Guild won't let her go easily," another warned. "They've invested years in her training."
"Then we offer something they can't. Freedom. Contracts with the Continental Guild are essentially lifetime commitments. We offer five-year terms with renewal options. Emphasize autonomy and choice."
"Flag her as priority recruitment. Send preliminary assessment to headquarters."
They moved to the next flagged participant. "Kaelen Voss. S-rank Hydromancy. Devastatingly effective in the right environment."
"Too specialized," the third recruiter said. "He's a god in wetlands and oceans, but what happens when he's fighting in deserts or mountains? We need versatile operatives."
"Fair point. Downgrade to secondary interest. Monitor but don't prioritize."
They continued through their list, analyzing dozens of participants, weighing talents against needs, considering recruitment strategies for each one. The tournament was a shopping opportunity, and they intended to take full advantage.
---
Eight hour, Southern Sector
Cassia Mordren's team stood atop yet another cliff, looking down at another valley filled with creatures. Her silver hair was tied back now, practical rather than decorative, and her expression carried the focused intensity of someone approaching hour eight of continuous combat.
"Status check," she commanded.
Her team responded immediately with practiced efficiency.
"Thora, seventy-three percent mana. No injuries."
"Javik, eighty-one percent mana. Minor laceration on left arm, already treated."
"Senna, sixty-eight percent mana. No injuries. Healing reserves at fifty-four percent."
"Kellen, seventy-nine percent mana. Bruised ribs from that last B-rank's tail strike, manageable."
"Marris, eighty-six percent mana. No injuries."
Cassia nodded. "Adequate. Senna, top off Kellen's ribs before we engage. Thora, switch to lightning lance technique for the next valley, conserve mana on area attacks. Javik, prioritize B-ranks, let the others handle C and below. Rys, maintain crowd control but reduce output by twenty percent, you're burning through mana too fast."
Adjustments made, optimizations calculated. This was military operation efficiency applied to tournament hunting.
"Target assessment," Cassia said.
"Fifty-three creatures total," Thora reported. "Thirty-nine D-rank, eleven C-rank, three B-rank. Standard distribution."
"Execute on my mark," Cassia commanded. Her gravity manipulation began building, reality bending to her will. "Mark."
The valley became a slaughterhouse once again.
.....