[16th June]
The incident on the ground did not fade.
It lingered.
For the first time since the tournament began, people realised something uncomfortable.
The Host had never been harmless.
Until now, he had laughed.
Joked.
Smiled like this was all entertainment.
But what they had just seen carved a different truth into everyone's mind.
In the stands, whispers spread like fire through dry grass.
Some criticised him.
Some praised him.
Some stayed silent, pretending they hadn't flinched when the pressure fell.
But one thing was clear.
No one stood up to question him.
Not a single soul.
Power had spoken.
Section A entered the stage.
The matches began.
And immediately, the atmosphere shifted.
This was no longer a competition.
It was a trial.
Every contestant fought as if this were their last chance to exist on this stage.
Blades clashed until arms went numb.
Bones cracked.
Winning had stopped being a goal.
It had become an obsession.
After every second batch, stretchers rolled out.
Sometimes carrying losers.
Sometimes carrying winners.
The ground darkened, blood soaking into stone that had already seen too much.
In Section B, one match stood out.
Two Peak Initiates.
What they showed surpassed their rank entirely.
They fought past pain.
Past fear.
Past reason.
When it ended, both collapsed.
Unconscious.
Broken.
The judges took only a moment before declaring a winner.
Both were carried away, bodies twisted and bloodied.
The stands erupted.
Not in joy.
In awe.
Rey watched quietly.
Every match etched itself into his memory.
Some of these people…
They could push him.
A few might even force him to reveal more than he wanted.
After the final battle of Section B ended, the Host spoke again.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Section B has concluded."
A pause.
"Section C will resume in ten minutes."
Then, colder—
"All contestants, reach the preparation hall on time. Even half a minute late will not be forgiven."
Not an announcement.
A warning.
Rey opened his section list.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Second batch.
Sooner than expected.
Earlier meant less pressure later.
More time to recover.
More advantage.
He didn't hesitate.
The preparation hall was already filling.
First batch contestants stood scattered, checking weapons, stretching, breathing slowly.
No one spoke much.
Eyes measured everyone else.
Strength.
Posture.
Intent.
Rey took a quiet corner and waited.
Minutes passed.
More people arrived.
The tension thickened.
Then—
He felt it.
A gaze.
Sharp.
Focused.
Unfriendly.
Rey lifted his head.
No one was looking at him.
At least, no one openly.
But the sensation didn't fade.
A crawling discomfort slid down his spine.
He dismissed it.
For now.
Batch One was called.
Doors opened.
Five pairs stepped out.
Some whispered prayers.
Some exhaled heavily.
The doors closed behind them.
Five minutes later, it was over.
Clean.
Fast.
No deaths.
Five winners.
Five losers.
Then—
Batch Two.
Rey stepped forward with the others.
The stadium fell quiet.
Cameras shifted, broadcasting their faces across the Kingdom.
He moved toward the fifth ground.
Center position.
Again.
A strange coincidence he didn't like.
He shook the thought away as his opponent arrived.
No armour.
No visible weapon.
No sheath.
Nothing.
'Fist fighter?' Rey wondered.
IDs were verified.
Then—
The man spoke.
"Are you 19,082? The bowman?"
Rey didn't answer.
"I'm a fan," the man continued casually.
"I have a gift for you."
A pause.
"You'll remember it for the rest of your life."
The words were calm.
Too calm.
Rey felt no killing intent.
Which bothered him more?
He stepped back into position without replying.
Arrow knocked.
Bow steady.
The referee raised his hand.
The timer lit up.
The match began.
Rey waited.
His opponent didn't move.
He scratched his cheek.
Half a minute passed.
The referee shifted uneasily.
Rey's eyes never left the man.
'Confidence?
Provocation?
Or something worse?'
Then—
The opponent finally moved.
And the moment he did, Rey understood.
Something was very wrong.
"Oh come on…"
The man sighed, disappointment clear on his face.
"I thought this little act would make you lower your guard. Guess not."
His eyes sharpened.
"Then I'll get serious before you do."
He stomped his foot.
The ground cracked.
And in the next instant, two slim, jet-black daggers slid into his hands as if they had always been there.
The referee's eyes widened.
So did Rey's.
The man lunged.
Fast.
Not reckless.
Not sloppy.
Fast in a way that came from training, not desperation.
Rey reacted on instinct.
He drew and fired without aiming.
The arrow slammed into the ground just in front of the man's feet, blasting stone outward.
For a fraction of a second, the dagger user hesitated.
Not fear.
Calculation.
'So that's the power behind those arrows…'
Then he pushed forward anyway.
Daggers crossed behind his back, body twisting mid-step.
Rey raised his arm to block—
And immediately aborted.
Something was wrong.
A pressure crawled over his skin, a cold warning screaming at him to move.
He dodged.
The first dagger missed by a breath.
The second passed where his ribs had been.
If he had blocked, it would have gone through him.
Clean.
Rey's heartbeat spiked.
This wasn't a normal contestant.
Not even close.
He retreated, creating distance.
The man followed, relentless.
Skinny frame. Tight clothes.
Yet every step shattered the ground beneath him.
'That strength doesn't match his body…'
Rey reached for another arrow.
Too slow.
The man was already there.
Daggers flashed.
Rey raised his bow horizontally.
Metal screamed.
Sparks burst.
A faint crack formed along the bow's surface.
Rey didn't shoot.
He jumped back, wrenching the arrow free and flipping it in his grip.
Using it like a blade.
The man paused.
Not because he was afraid.
Because he was amused.
That pause saved him.
Rey lunged.
The arrow pierced the man's thigh.
Blood sprayed.
A normal fighter would have staggered.
This one only hissed.
Then he pulled the arrow out himself.
No hesitation.
No scream.
A smile spread across his face.
Wide.
Unsettling.
"Yes…" he breathed.
"This is it. This is exactly it."
He spread his arms.
"My star really is different."
His eyes burned with something close to relief.
"I'll make sure you receive your gift before this ends."
He moved again.
One dagger flew toward Rey's face.
At the same time, another appeared in his other hand as he charged behind it.
A layered kill.
Rey saw it instantly.
Dodging the dagger meant dying to the follow-up.
Blocking meant losing control.
So he did something no one expected.
He drew two arrows.
At once.
The stadium froze.
Two strings snapped.
The first arrow struck the flying dagger, knocking it violently off course.
The second did not stop.
It punched into the man's shoulder.
Bone cracked.
The force dragged him backwards, feet carving trenches into the ground.
His arm went limp.
The dagger slipped from his fingers and clattered against the stone.
Silence swallowed the stadium.
The man dropped to one knee.
Breathing hard.
Blood soaked his sleeve.
Rey lowered his bow slightly.
"This ends here," he said calmly.
"Concede. Your arm can still be saved."
The man laughed.
It came out broken.
"N-no… no…"
His eyes shook.
"I didn't give you the gift."
His breathing turned erratic.
"If I don't give it… They'll kill me."
Rey's pupils narrowed.
The man reached behind his back.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And pulled out a dagger that did not belong on this stage.
The blade was dark.
Not black.
Empty.
Light bent strangely around it.
The air around Rey's skin prickled.
Danger.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
Rey stepped back.
Not in fear.
In judgment.
This was no longer a simple match.
And whatever that dagger was—
It was never meant to be revealed here.
He glanced at the referee.
The man was watching the timer closely, waiting for the moment he could end the match.
At this rate, Rey would surely win.
His opponent's injuries were already severe.
Rey pulled out an arrow, ready to defend himself.
He couldn't allow that shady dagger to hit him. Not even once.
But instead of another sudden strike, his opponent staggered back to his feet.
His face had gone pale from blood loss.
Then, with trembling strength, he threw a single normal dagger.
Rey dodged it easily, not even bothering to track its trajectory.
His eyes were locked elsewhere.
On that shady dagger.
He knew it was coming next.
As expected, the second dagger flew toward him immediately after.
Rey dodged again, sharp and precise, convinced this was his opponent's last desperate trick.
But the damage to the man's hand ruined the throw.
It failed.
And yet—
Instead of despair or defeat…
A crazy smile spread across his opponent's face.
His hand was still stretched out toward Rey.
Frozen midair.
As if he were holding something invisible.
Rey frowned.
The man had already thrown his weapons.
So why was his posture unchanged?
"I present you… my gift to you… I did it…"
The words were forced out, broken and hoarse.
Suddenly, his face turned violently red.
Blood burst from his eyes and nose at once, pouring down his face until he looked grotesque.
Before Rey could even process what was happening—
Pain exploded through his back.
Twice.
His body shuddered violently as the sensation ripped through him.
His vision trembled.
A burning, gnawing agony spread rapidly, like thousands of insects eating him alive from the inside.
Rey turned his head slowly.
Two daggers.
The very same ones his opponent had thrown earlier—
Were embedded deep into his back.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
His opponent had already collapsed, unconscious, his condition unknown.
Rey stood there, stunned.
How…?
Gritting his teeth, he reached back and pulled out both daggers with difficulty.
Dark blood clung faintly to their edges.
Without hesitation, he slid them into his coat—
But secretly transferred them into his inventory.
His back felt freezing cold and burning hot at the same time.
His vision blurred for no reason.
Still, he forced himself forward.
Step by step.
He stopped in front of the referee, who had been waiting nervously for the result.
"Referee… announce the result."
Rey's voice was calm, but unnervingly cold.
"That guy is already down."
The referee swallowed hard and nodded.
"I announce the winner of this match as contestant 19,082. Here is your badge, sir."
The crowd remained silent.
Shocked.
Confused.
They couldn't understand what they had just witnessed.
Daggers moving on their own.
No visible control.
But while the public was lost—
The Noble Gallery was not.
A ripple of shock spread among them.
They understood exactly what had happened.
"Is it what I'm thinking…?"
One noble whispered.
"Is that man that type of martial artist? I thought they were extremely rare… except within the Duke House."
"Could he be a genius?"
"I don't know," another replied quietly.
"But we should not interfere. That man up there might take interest in him."
Their gazes shifted upward.
Toward the stand where the Duke sat.
Meanwhile, Rey stepped down from the stage.
His legs trembled.
His vision dimmed further.
Before he could take another step—
He collapsed.
His body hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Hosric, who had been lost in thought, snapped his head toward the fallen figure.
"What…?"
All eyes turned toward Rey.
The referee rushed forward and knelt beside him.
As he turned Rey's face—
His eyes widened in horror.
"MEDIC!"
His shout echoed across the arena.
"COME QUICKLY! THIS MAN IS POISONED! TAKE HIM TO THE EMERGENCY AREA!"
The stadium erupted into chaos.
A wave of shock tore through the Noble Gallery.
The use of poison was strictly forbidden.
Killing was prohibited.
And yet—
Such an act had been committed in full view.
"Seize that man!"
The host, silent until now, roared in fury.
"He poisoned his daggers!"
The entire stadium descended into uproar.
All ongoing and upcoming matches were halted immediately.
Hosric clenched his fists.
His thoughts raced.
'How could this happen…?
Why are they acting now?
How did things escalate this far…?'
'Even they are targeting him.'
'I must send Rey to the University.
Otherwise… his fate will follow the same path as his father.'
His gaze lingered on Rey's unconscious opponent, now being dragged away under guard.
And then to Rey himself—
Being carried urgently toward medical care.
Hosric followed.
This was no longer a simple tournament matter.
This was a matter of life and death.