The audience's eyes widened, scanning the boards crowded with names. At the very top stood Thomas—undisputed. Even after being given the chance to challenge him, none did. The chaos that took place near the end had cast a long shadow, making even the boldest think twice before making a move.

The list then went as follows.

Troy (Univara) [Forfeit]

Clara (Tritus) [Forfeit]

Wesley (Altura) [Forfeit]

Jacob (Univara) [Forfeit]

Samantha (Altura) [Forfeit]

Jasmine (Quarath) [00.07]

Elric (Quarath) [00.08]

…

Neve (Quarath) [Penalized]

Dareth (Tritus) [Disqualified]

"How come you're last?" Nova asked aloud, scanning the list once more with an arced eyebrow.

Neve let out a sigh—part relief, part regret. "I almost killed a participant," she admitted. "Looks like he recovered."

"I see." Then he reassured her "Even if you had killed him, nothing would've happened to you."

Surprise flickered in her eyes. The tension she'd been carrying slowly melted away. Her nerves finally relaxed slightly as she sat beside him.

Across the room, Isaac's voice rang out. "Troy!"

Troy rose at the sound of his name.

"Do you wish to issue a challenge?" Isaac asked.

Troy paused, considering it for a moment, then gave a small shake of his head.

"Alright," Isaac nodded and moved to the next.

"Clara!... Wesley!..."

No one was ready to issue a challenge—not yet. It was still too early for the top-ranked students to clash, and the audience had expected this lull. Everyone knew the cycle would continue… until someone finally broke it.

That someone was Jasmine.

"Jasmine! Do you wish to issue a challenge?" Isaac called out.

"Yes. I challenge Jacob," she replied, her voice calm yet resolute, echoing through the stadium.

"Jacob," Isaac continued, turning to the next name. "Will you fight or forfeit?"

He preferred to get forfeits out of the way quickly. There was no point in dragging it out by having participants walk to the stage only to back out. In this third segment, the rule was absolute: if you were challenged, you either fought or forfeited. There was no middle ground.

And Jacob made his choice.

"I forfeit!"

"Very well," Isaac said, giving a nod to the staff.

Immediately, the ranking board shifted as the staff updated the standings.

Jasmine (Quarath) [00.07]

Jacob (Univara) [Forfeit]

Isaac gave a small nod to himself, inwardly praising the staff for their quick responses. Then he called out "Elric! Do you wish to issue a challenge?"

In the minds of the audience, the answer was obvious. Elric should challenge the second-ranked contender—at the very least. After all, everyone had their predictions, and after Elric's impressive performance in the previous segment, they fully expected him to aim high.

Nova, reclining comfortably in his seat, glanced toward Isaac, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Then, clearing his throat, he spoke.

"I challenge the one ranked first—Thomas."

The stadium erupted. Isaac's eyebrow jumped in surprise.

No one had seen it coming. The two most powerful participants in the tournament, squaring off right at the start of the third segment? It was unthinkable. Gasps, murmurs, and shouts swept through the crowd like wildfire.

But the audience's shock was nothing compared to Thomas'.

His normally composed expression had vanished. His mouth hung open—wide enough to fit an egg—and his eyebrows looked like they were trying to escape his forehead. He couldn't make sense of it.

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Why would Elric challenge me now—without even securing second place first?

Meanwhile, in the spectator stands, Alaric and the real Elric sat quietly. One was still dealing with the effects of the fire Mana particles in his body. The other… was trying not to grimace. Not from pain—but from sheer awkwardness and worry. His future looked bleak.

If Nova, using Elric's face, managed to win, he'd be hailed as the strongest on Earth. Praise would rain down. Fame would be inevitable. Too inevitable.

If anyone discovered that the real Elric wasn't nearly as strong as the image Nova was crafting, there'd be chaos. Every organization, every student, every citizen—it wouldn't just be backlash. It would be a riot. If people could cheat during the first tournament then…what stopped them from cheating in the next? Would there even be a chance for others to rise up with these circumstances?

Unconsciously, Elric had started scratching at the nails of his other hand.

"Calm down," Alaric's voice cut in, low and steady.

Elric turned to him, eyes wide. "General, how can I stay calm? This is… this is too much."

"Don't worry," Alaric said, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Worst-case scenario, you can always hide inside a portal."

Elric turned even paler.

Meanwhile, Isaac's voice echoed across the stadium, commanding attention.

"Thomas. Will you fight, or will you forfeit?"

It was a formality—everyone knew Thomas would never back down. But as the official, Isaac had to ask.

"I'll fight," Thomas replied, already striding toward the stage.

Nova stood up as well, casually dusting off his light armor before making his way to the arena.

The stadium exploded with noise. Chatter erupted from every corner—disbelief, excitement, speculation. The energy was electric.

Facing Nova across the arena, Thomas frowned, his eyes focused.

"I don't know why you challenged me this early. Are you really that confident?"

Inside, Nova was on the verge of bursting into laughter—the kind that left your stomach aching. But on the outside, only a faint, polite smile curved his lips.

'When did he get so full of himself?' he mused.

Then, in a tone laced with false solemnity, Nova replied, "I just wanted to see how strong you really are... and how far I still have to go just to catch your shadow."

'Hmm, that actually sounded good,' Nova mused to himself.

Up in the stands, the real Elric wanted nothing more than to bury his head in the sand—and never show his face again.

Alaric and Neve, even across distance, shared the same reaction. They both struggled to keep straight faces. Knowing exactly who had spoken those words only made it more hilarious.

But the audience—and even the participants—took it at face value. After all, while the Mask of Three Faces was technically available in the Store, how many people had actually scrolled through every item and read all the descriptions? And even if they had, how many would connect the dots? Most didn't even know who Nova was, let alone suspect that he'd taken Elric's place.

Thomas, however, felt a flicker of doubt. Something didn't sit right.

The Elric he remembered wouldn't say something like that. Still… maybe he was being unfair. It had been just one interaction, after all. How could he understand someone in such short time?

So, casting those thoughts away, Thomas took it in stride.

"You may begin," came Isaac's voice, firmly cutting through the stadium's roar. His eyes, like everyone else's in the grandstand, were locked on the arena.

Thomas drew a deep breath. "Then let me show you."

Bang.

The newly-installed tiles beneath his feet cracked—then shattered. Sending debris flying.

The audience barely registered the blur of motion. One moment Thomas stood still. The next, he was right beside Nova.

With a sharp shout, he threw a punch.

Nova never looked away. No matter how fast Thomas moved, to him, it was all crystal clear.

'I can't let him figure it out too soon,' Nova thought, eyes narrowing.

Just as the punch closed in, Nova calmly raised his hand. To the untrained eye, the movement looked unremarkable—almost lazy.

But only he knew the truth.

His palm was crackling with lightning Mana particles, condensed and focused into a single point, ready to meet the blow head-on.

When Thomas's fist connected, he got the shock of his life—literally.

The instant their hands touched, his instincts screamed. His arm recoiled with double the speed it had launched, jerking backward violently.

Nova raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "What happened? Something wrong?" On the inside, he was laughing like a madman.

Thomas stared, stunned. His arm was still tingling from the impact—an electric jolt so intense it left his nerves humming. And that shouldn't have been possible. With how strong his body was, even getting hit by a normal lightning bare chested would've merely numbed him.

But this? This made no sense.

He hadn't seen his opponent draw a weapon. Hadn't sensed even a flicker of external Mana. No arrays. Just that maddeningly casual stance.

He stood frozen for a moment, trying to piece it together. Nothing fit.

The crowd's expressions didn't look any better either. Majority of them were stunned in surprise. One of them, Elric, grabbed his hair with both hands, pulling some strands out. He wanted nothing more than to leave this place.

Finally, Thomas eased his breathing, trying to clear his mind. His eyes narrowed as they landed on "Elric," who still hadn't moved. Just stood there, watching him like he was some exhibit at a zoo—only missing a camera to complete the scene.

Thomas shook the thought away.

Enough.

With a sudden burst of speed, he dashed forward once more—this time, aiming a sharp, powerful kick straight at Nova.

'If I use the same trick twice, he'll probably catch on,' Nova thought.

He stomped hard against the arena floor—stone cracked, debris scattering into the air around him.

With a silent command, he willed the wind Mana particles to converge, accelerating every shard, every splinter of stone toward Thomas like a storm of invisible daggers.

One wind particle on its own was harmless. But what about ten? Thirty? Fifty?

Even the smallest piece of debris, backed by that many wind particles, became faster—and deadlier—than a bullet.

Before Thomas's kick could land, it was met by a flurry of high-velocity fragments. Some merely grazed him, leaving shallow cuts or faint trails of blood. Others bit deeper—splinters embedding themselves into his leg, puncturing muscle and striking bone.

It wasn't fatal. Not to someone like Thomas at least.

But it hurt—and more than that, it taught him something.

A lesson that stung more than the wounds themselves:

In the face of overwhelming power, nothing else mattered.

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