The Grand Sage of the Chaos Temple stood amidst the radiating heat of the Dragon Elders and the blinding brilliance of the Spirit Lords, yet he seemed to exist in a pocket of perfect stillness.

His white robes didn't flutter, and his eyes, deep as the void between galaxies, remained fixed on Noah.

A thin, dry smile played on his lips, the kind of smile a grandfather might give a particularly ambitious child, or a scientist might give a fascinating new specimen.

"Are you sure, Emperor Noah?" the Grand Sage asked.

His voice was soft, but it carried the weight of a collapsing star.

"The Chaos Temple has watched empires rise from the mud and sink back into it for millions of years. We do not participate in the squabbles of children unless the stakes are... absolute."

Noah didn't even look away from the wine glass he was still casually holding.

He swirled the amber liquid, watching the light catch on the condensation.

"I'm sure," Noah replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost insulting.

"If you're feeling brave enough to put your reputation on the line, why not?"

"But let's make the stakes interesting."

"If the Chaos Temple enters and loses, you don't just walk away with a 'good game.'"

"You become a subordinate faction of the Earth Empire too."

"You'll take orders from me."

A collective gasp sucked the air out of the banquet hall.

Even the Phoenix Queen, Liara, paused with her glass halfway to her lips.

To ask the Chaos Temple, the ultimate arbiters of universal law, to bend the knee was a level of audacity that bordered on the divine.

The Grand Sage didn't grow angry.

Instead, he threw his head back and laughed.

It was a rich, genuine sound that seemed to vibrate the very atoms of the palace.

"Hahahaha! Marvelous!" the Sage roared, his eyes flashing with a sudden, predatory sharpenss.

"I haven't felt this much excitement for a long time."

"Very well, Emperor of Earth."

"If we enter and lose, we serve."

"But if you lose..."

"You, your generals, and your entire empire will belong to the Temple."

The entire universe, watching through myriad scrying arrays and high-definition satellite feeds, watched in stunned silence.

No one, not the wisest scholar or the most battle-hardened mercenary, thought the Chaos Temple would actually accept such a vulgar gamble.

But the deal was struck.

The air hummed with the invisible threads of a Soul Contract, binding the words into the fabric of reality.

"Alright," Noah said, setting his glass down on a floating silver tray.

"Then let's begin."

"Let is not waste any more time."

"My patience has a limit, and we're already burning daylight."

The venue for the tournament was not a traditional stadium.

Earlier that day, Noah had used his own spatial manipulation to carve out a massive arena in the plains just outside the capital city.

It was a bowl of reinforced obsidian and gravity-tempered steel, ten miles across, shimmering under the pale sun.

As the sun reached its zenith, the various races began to fill the stands.

It was a chaotic tapestry of biology and energy.

Scale-clad Dragons sat near shimmering Spirit forms.

Feathered envoys from the Lesser Systems sat huddled together, terrified of the sheer amount of power gathered in one place.

Noah walked to the center of the sands, his black tunic stark against the dark ground.

His voice was amplified by the Earth Empire's tech-spirit drones, broadcasting to every corner of the sector.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Noah began, his voice echoing like thunder.

"There is only one rule for this tournament."

"There are no rules."

"You can fight with anything you want."

"Spells, blades, biological mutations, or forbidden tech. I don't care."

"But remember this."

"If you lose, you belong to me."

"Your systems, your lives, and your futures are the price of admission."

He turned and gestured toward a soaring spire that overlooked the arena floor.

At the top of the tower, several massive thrones had been created from solidified mana.

Noah, accompanied by Rudi, Fiona, and the Grand Sage, ascended to the high tower. The emperors of other primordial empires were also with him.

They took their seats like gods observing the movements of ants.

To Noah's left sat the Grand Sage.

To his right sat the leaders of the Dragon and Spirit races.

The tension between them was thick enough to choke a normal man.

But Noah simply leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.

A referee was brought forward.

He was an Immortal Venerable from a minor, neutral system.

A man chosen for his impartiality and because he was just strong enough not to be killed by the shockwaves of the coming battles.

The referee stepped onto the sands, his voice trembling slightly into a megaphone device.

"The format is as follows!" the referee announced.

"The Dragon Race, the Spirit Race, the Chaos Temple, and the Earth Empire will send their warriors."

"One warrior from the Earth Empire will enter the stage."

"He will remain until he is defeated."

"Anyone may challenge him."

"If all warriors from the Earth Empire are defeated, the battle will be over and the Empire forfeits!"

It was a gauntlet.

A suicide mission.

Noah was essentially betting that one of his men could take on the elite of the entire universe back-to-back.

Noah looked down at William, who stood at the base of the tower.

William was the Sword General.

A man whose entire existence was a sharpened edge.

"Go," Noah said softly.

"Show them what we are."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," William replied.

He didn't use a staircase.

He simply stepped off the ground and blurred.

A second later, he landed in the center of the arena, his boots kicking up a small puff of dust.

"I am William, the Sword General of the Earth Empire," he said, his voice cold and flat.

He didn't draw his sword.

He just stood there, looking at the assembled hosts of the "Superior" races.

"Who is first?"

In the Dragon section of the VIP stands, the Emperor of the Earth Dragon race grunted.

He was a massive man with skin like cracked stone.

He looked at one of his subordinates, a general known for his immense physical defense.

"Go and test his power," the Dragon Emperor commanded.

"Don't kill him instantly."

"I want to see what these humans are made of."

The general, a behemoth named Aurion, leaped into the arena.

The impact of his landing cracked the obsidian floor.

His skin was covered in thick, tectonic scales.

He carried a mace that looked like it was carved from a mountain's core.

"I am Aurion, the 2nd General of the Earth Dragon Race," he growled.

His voice was a series of low-frequency vibrations.

"Please enlighten me, little human."

The referee signaled the start.

Aurion didn't wait.

He lunged forward, the air screaming as his mace whistled through the sky.

He was fast for his size, a blur of brown and grey.

He struck the ground where William stood.

The impact caused a localized earthquake that shattered the arena floor for fifty meters.

But William wasn't there.

William appeared to the left of Aurion.

His hand was still resting on the hilt of his sheathed blade.

He moved with a grace that made the Dragon look clumsy.

Before Aurion could recover, William delivered a simple kick to the Dragon's ribs.

The sound was like a cannon firing.

Aurion, who weighed several tons, was sent skidding across the arena.

His scales sparked against the obsidian.

The crowd gasped.

An Earth Dragon general was being pummled in a physical contest.

Aurion roared.

His eyes turned a deep, molten orange.

"Enough!"

"You want to play with speed?"

"Fine!"

"Let's see you handle the weight of the world!"

The ground beneath William's feet turned to liquid, trying to swallow him.

The gravity in the arena suddenly increased a hundredfold.

Aurion's body began to swell.

His humanoid form tore apart as his true essence took over.

In seconds, a colossal, 50-meter-tall Earth Dragon stood in the arena.

His wings were useless.

His tail was a whip of pure destruction.

His breath was a spray of pressurized magma.

"Human!" the Dragon roared.

"You have forced me into this form!"

"Now, die beneath the heels of your superiors!"

Aurion reared back and slammed his massive claws down.

He intended to flatten William into a pancake.

The pressure was so great that the Lesser System delegates in the front rows had to activate their protective shields just to breathe.

William looked up at the descending mountain of flesh and scale.

He didn't move.

He didn't panic.

He simply snorted.

"Pathetic," William whispered.

Finally, he drew his sword.

It was a simple blade.

Devoid of the flashy lights or elemental auras of the Spirit race.

It was just... sharp.

William gripped the hilt with both hands.

He took a single step forward.

He ignored the crushing gravity as if it didn't exist.

With a movement so fast the cameras couldn't even track the frames, he performed a single, vertical slash.

Shing.

The sound was tiny compared to the Dragon's roar.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Aurion's claws were inches from William's head.

Then, a thin, red line appeared on the tip of the Dragon's snout.

The line raced up his head.

Down his massive spine.

Through his thick tail.

The Dragon stopped moving.

His orange eyes went dull.

Slowly, almost gracefully, the 50-meter-tall beast began to slide apart.

The vertical slash had been so precise and so powerful that it had bypassed the Dragon's "impenetrable" scales.

It split his atomic structure in half.

The two halves of the Earth Dragon slammed into the ground on either side of William.

Red blood geysered into the air like a fountain.

William flicked his blade.

A single drop of dragon blood flew off the steel.

He sheathed it with a satisfying click.

He looked back at the Dragon Emperor sitting in the tower.

Then he scanned the rest of the Spirit and Chaos Temple warriors.

"Next," William said coolly.

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