Meanwhile back at Four Stars Academy base...
Nuelle Ness frowned as Viktor walked closer. This was too close. She couldn't step out of this small encampment because it meant they'd have lost their castle. Which is an immediate disqualification.
Which meant she had to fund a way to defeat him without stepping out of this circle.
"So much for shields huh, one ran off and fell for a simple misdirection and the other lost too easily" She mused as she packed her back length hair into a ponytail.
Viktor scoffed at her words.
His plan as always had been perfect.
"This is the end. Give up now" Viktor said even as he approached slowly.
Nuelle Ness hearing that burst out into laughter.
"You really thought you had me in the aalms of you hands didn't you" She managed to say as she laughed at him.
Viktor had a confused look on his face as he wondered if she'd gone mad as a result of losing. He'd heard of people who that had happened to.
"Nothing. Absolutely NOTHING you have done since you arrived in these dungeons has escaped my senses
"Bullshyte! If that really is true why are you alone. Where is you team!?" Viktor asked his voice rising.
"I couldn't have them present when I used my technique. Afterall not even Korimer can take it and come out unscathed."
Viktor scoffed as he contemplated calling her bluff.
"You know, back in Four Stars Academy we fought every last day of the week. From the moment we arrived at the academy in our first year. Korimer and I fought. I'd win a couple he'd win a couple there was no real winner."
Nuelle said kneeling down, planting her fingers deep into the ground.
"By our second year, we had evolved so much that we were regarded as the Aces of Four Stars Academy, because we were so powerful individually."
Her eyes turned golish and burnt with a fervour that shook the surroundings, the sand particles on the floor rose up under the effects of the presence she eminated.
Frowning he stopped his advance, his sense screamed to him. Telling him to drop everything and RUN as fast and as far as his four limbs could take him.
"In this last year, Korimer and I stopped our duels because I was going into solitary training. He roamed the continent working as a mercenary. He gre famous and was regarded as the strongest trainees from Four Stars Academy. When I returned he told me to put an end to the rumors, he wanted to correct them. I told him not to.
If he was the strongest in the open. I would be the strongest in the shadows."
Nuelle fizzled out like steam literally fading from Viktor's senses.
Viktor felt doom decend.
A crushing weight decended, falling with a furiousity that threatened to crush his bones and flatten him.
"My technique is the ability to manipulate the density of mass spontaneously. Anything I deem contemptful I can manipulate. Know this I have no known limits. I can increase your weight till you own internal gravitational please squashes your organs.
"I could keep going till your very body folds in on itself, till you become a literal black hole I can wield. Do you still want to test me?" Nuelle asked increasing his density.
Viktor felt his ribcage pressing in on his lungs almost puncturing them, he felt his bones get crushed under the pressure his body emmited.
He had no doubt she was telling the truth, the only reason she had told him was because of the job kill rule. If this were war he'd be dead before he even realized why.
"S—Stop!!" Viktor cried as his flesh gave way and blood sprayed out like a fountain.
"I give up. I give up" Viktor gasped as Nuelle released him from her technique.
"Thought as much." She said.
---
Back in the stadium, the shift was immediate.
The air itself seemed to settle as Keel Kun's presence vanished, replaced by a calm, steady voice that carried effortlessly across the stands.
"Attention, spectators."
The voice was unfamiliar to most, but it held weight—measured, precise, unhurried.
A tall figure now occupied the commentator's platform. Dressed simply, posture relaxed, eyes sharp. No flourish. No theatrics.
This was X.
"I will be assuming commentary duties for the remainder of this round."
The crowd murmured, confused at first—but then the screens flared.
Footage from deep within the dungeon replayed in perfect clarity.
Nuelle Ness. Viktor. The encampment circle.
X did not raise his voice.
"What you have just witnessed," he continued, "is not an upset. Nor is it luck."
The replay slowed—sand lifting, Viktor's advance halting, the invisible pressure collapsing inward.
"Nuelle Ness never left her position. She never needed to."
The image froze on Viktor's knees buckling.
"Her technique is mass-density manipulation. Not force. Not impact. Density. A fundamentally different vector of combat."
The crowd grew quiet.
"Within her operational range, movement becomes permission-based. Resistance becomes irrelevant. Escape becomes theoretical."
A beat.
"This is why Four Stars Academy placed her at the base."
Murmurs spread—recognition dawning.
"Not as a shield," X added. "But as a king."
The replay ended with Viktor collapsing, the match indicator flaring red.
"Victory to Nuelle Ness. Four Stars Academy retains their stronghold."
Applause erupted—not explosive, but sustained. Respectful. Heavy.
X allowed it to crest before continuing.
"Now."
The screens shifted.
Two figures collided in a storm of black and silver.
Shadows twisted unnaturally. Blades crossed at speeds the cameras struggled to track.
"We turn our attention to the primary convergence."
The name appeared on-screen.
Itekan Lie vs. Shzekcl — Ace of Rangers Academy
"This engagement," X said evenly, "has already exceeded standard predictive models."
Clips flashed—shadow forms, poison dispersal, whips colliding with tentacles.
"Both combatants have abandoned restraint.
This is no longer a contest of techniques."
The footage slowed as their shadows overlapped, distorted, resisting each other.
"It is a collision of origins."
The stadium leaned forward.
"Shzekcl is a four-flicked shadow—an evolved anomaly. Dangerous. Rare."
A pause.
"Itekan Lie is something else."
No elaboration. None was needed.
The screen froze on Itekan mid-motion, eyes burning through shadow.
"This fight will not end cleanly. And it will not end quietly."
A ripple passed through the audience.
Then X changed the feed again.
A forest path. Broken branches. Two figures moving fast, controlled.
Itoyea Pilton.
Bukanami Ao.
"Simultaneously," X said, "another vector approaches its conclusion."
The screen widened.
Two unfamiliar trainees stood ahead—both black-haired, features sharp, movements economical. They stood just outside a glowing circle.
Behind them—
A woman with a precise bob cut. Calm. Still. Watching.
"Rangers Academy base," X continued.
"Defensive formation."
Labels appeared.
Kim — Shield.
Sung — Shield.
Karen Dīskūnshīk — King.
"Itoyea Pilton and Bukanami Ao are advancing under the assumption of pursuit."
The footage showed them slowing—sensing something wrong.
"They are incorrect."
The crowd tensed.
"This is not pursuit. This is interception."
X folded his hands behind his back.
"Kim and Sung are not combatants designed for spectacle. They are stabilizers. Delay units. Their purpose is singular."
The camera zoomed slightly on the woman in the circle.
"To ensure their king is never forced to move."
Silence fell.
"Which brings us to the core truth of this round."
X finally allowed a trace of emphasis into his voice.
"The first round of this tournament is not about domination. Not about adaptation."
The screens split—Nuelle standing unmoved.
Itekan mid-lunge.
Itoyea and Bukanami entering hostile ground.
"It is about finishing."
The word landed heavily.
"Those who hesitate will be eliminated.
Those who misjudge will be crushed.
And those who cannot protect their king—"
The screens dimmed.
"—will not advance."
A beat.
Then—
"Keep your eyes open, spectators."
The feed locked back onto Itekan and Shzekcl as their shadows surged toward another violent collision.
"Because the next few minutes will decide who leaves this forest… and who is erased from it."
The stadium erupted.
Not in chaos.
But in anticipation.
.
.
.
Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)