The countdown from Will of Blue Star continued to echo in the minds of everyone across the world.
At this moment, people everywhere were buzzing with a feverish kind of excitement.
The reason was simple.
They were certain their nations' hidden specialists would carve their way into the final ten—no matter how brutal the internal free-for-all became.
They believed those ten elites would march into the Divine Domain, seize resources, and force their nations onto a new path.
After all—
The first wave of entrants into the Divine Domain had been randomly selected by Will of Blue Star. Their strength varied wildly. A few were professionals, but many were nothing more than ordinary civilians.
Even with national expert teams guiding them, raw strength was still the fatal gap. When truly powerful Divine Domain creatures appeared, plenty of contestants had been crushed outright.
But this time was different.
This time, only monsters would survive long enough to become Deathmatchers.
And once the Blue Star Deathmatch was over, only fifty would remain.
Fifty.
The undisputed strongest fifty people on Blue Star.
When those fifty entered the Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone, they were guaranteed to stir up a storm.
People were convinced their nations would rise because of them.
Some even believed—
That dealing with Adrian Vale and Raven Shaw, who were already making waves inside the Divine Domain, would no longer be a problem.
Across the world, livestream chats erupted.
Confidence. Arrogance. Anticipation.
Every nation was convinced its elites were unmatched.
While spectators argued and hyped each other up, the countdown kept ticking.
Twenty minutes.
Then fifteen.
Then ten.
Inside the Divine Domain: Forbidden Zone—
Adrian Vale and Raven Shaw continued forward, following the direction Adrian had sensed earlier.
That faint, alluring "scent."
The surreal forest around them had long since lost its novelty for the livestream audience.
For the two of them, though, surviving a large-scale illusion earlier meant one thing:
Caution.
After careful observation, they confirmed it.
This environment was real.
No illusion.
Raven Shaw pulled out the Rustic Peerless Treasure Map she'd carefully stowed away earlier, clearly refusing to give up.
"This time, I'll prove it," she said stubbornly. "It won't be wrong again."
Adrian merely glanced at her.
One look—flat, faintly disdainful.
The livestream immediately lost it.
"Hahaha—Raven Shaw looks so confident!"
"She's adorable, your honor."
"That look from Adrian Vale says everything."
"Silent judgment. Brutal."
Raven Shaw's confidence faltered almost instantly.
Her voice trailed off as she compared the map to the surroundings.
They didn't match.
Not even remotely.
The terrain was completely different.
Her face stiffened.
Adrian didn't say a word.
Somehow, that silence hit harder than mockery.
The chat exploded.
"HAHAHA she just set a flag and tripped over it!"
"That expression—absolutely priceless!"
"She's turning green."
Raven Shaw cleared her throat, then forced a steady tone.
"Well… maybe the map maker only reached the illusion zone. After that, there's nothing."
Adrian turned away.
"Let's go."
That was all.
Raven Shaw hesitated, almost stomped on the map in frustration—then reluctantly stuffed it back into her cloak and hurried after him.
The chat laughed themselves breathless.
"She's not cold at all anymore."
"First impression: ice queen. Final verdict: sweet and naive."
"Stop, I can't take it."
As Adrian led the way, Raven Shaw simmered in silence.
If he messes up later… I'm laughing in his face.
Unfortunately for her—
Adrian's sense of direction, guided by that unmistakable scent, was far too sharp.
Even if they didn't reach the treasure's true location, they'd find something powerful.
And if necessary—
They could always extract information directly.
Meanwhile, in the real world—
The countdown reached its final moments.
[00:03]
[00:02]
[00:01]
[00:00]
The instant it hit zero, those who had already chosen to enter were swallowed by white light—vanishing from homes, bases, mountains, temples, and back alleys across the globe.
Outside, global livestreams detonated.
"They disappeared!"
"Teleportation again!"
"Look—look! The feeds are switching!"
Every major broadcast platform snapped to the same unfolding chaos:
Nations' internal free-for-all arenas igniting one after another—countless silhouettes blinking into existence, the air instantly turning sharp with killing intent.
Because everyone understood one thing now:
This wasn't a rehearsal.
This wasn't a show.
This was the first step toward the Blue Star Deathmatch.
And only the ones who survived this round—
Only the final ten from each nation—
would even earn the right to stand on the true Deathmatch stage.
The first round of the Blue Star Deathmatch had officially begun.
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