The students rolled up their sleeves, eager to get started.
"Now for the random draw!"
The Dean of Academic Affairs' voice boomed across the field through the loudspeakers.
The draw began.
Names flashed rapidly across the electronic screen, and soon the first-round matchups were announced.
Ethan scanned the screen, finding his name.
His opponent was—William, a Level 3 Swift Archer.
Though they wouldn't be fighting in the first round—their match was scheduled for the third round.
Arena No.7, Third Round.
"Phew!" A tall, lanky boy in the crowd let out a sigh of relief, his face lighting up with joy.
William thought he'd hit the jackpot—drawing the only Priest in the entire tournament in the first round.
He couldn't for the life of him figure out why a Priest would even enter an arena tournament.
A Priest with no offensive skills—how was he supposed to fight against a high-agility, high-damage Archer like himself?
This was basically a free win!
William had already started imagining how he'd win the match in style, impressing all the girls in the audience.
Kane was fighting in the first round against a Mage. Lilian was in the second round against an Assassin.
"What a shame."
Kane clicked his tongue when he saw the matchup list, clearly disappointed he wouldn't get to face Ethan right away.
Lilian also snorted.
"Lucky for him."
Ethan ignored their taunts.
After memorizing the details on the screen, he got up and left the waiting area, heading toward the arenas.
"Your match isn't for a while yet. What are you doing here?" Mr. Arnold asked in surprise when he spotted Ethan.
"Accidents happen in fights. I thought I'd stick around to see if anyone needs healing."
Mr. Arnold blinked, staring at Ethan's calm, earnest expression.
For a moment, he didn't know what to say.
Was this kid serious?
With his own match coming up soon, he was volunteering to heal other students at the arena?
He opened his mouth, but all he could do was sigh and wave a hand dismissively.
"Do what you want. Just stay safe and don't interfere with the matches."
Ethan nodded, standing quietly near the medical station by the edge of the arenas.
The station was originally staffed only by the school doctor, who looked surprised to see him, but didn't ask any questions.
The matches began soon after.
All thirteen arenas erupted into combat at once, with flashes of skill light and the clash of weapons echoing through the air.
Duels between combat classes were often intense and fast-paced, especially at lower levels where skills were limited.
Most of the time, it came down to stats, basic combat skills, and quick thinking on the fly.
Ethan kept a close eye on the arenas.
As soon as a student conceded defeat, he cast two Heals on them without even checking if they were injured.
"Huh? How are you casting spells faster than me?"
The school doctor's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Ethan's casting speed.
He might not have had much talent as a Priest, but he was still a Tier 1 Priest.
In terms of experience and level, he was far superior to Ethan—and yet, Ethan was outpacing him by a mile in casting speed.
It was a humbling realization, to say the least.
A competitive spark lit in the doctor's heart.
Another match ended shortly after.
The doctor had just raised his staff when he saw two Heals fly toward the injured student.
The doctor refused to back down, determined to keep up.
But he quickly abandoned his little competition.
Matches on Arenas 3, 5, 8, 9, and 12 ended almost simultaneously.
Without even glancing at the injured students, Ethan waved his staff like a magician performing a trick.
Ten Heals shot out in less than a second.
The school doctor watched Ethan spam Heals without a care in the world, and quickly stepped in to stop him.
"Whoa there, kid! Hold on a second! You can't just spam Heals like that! Mana potions aren't cheap! Those are just minor scratches—we don't even need band-aids for them!"
Ethan didn't stop casting, the white light from his Heals continuing to flow.
His voice was calm.
"Sir, even the smallest wound can affect a fighter's performance in later matches. And I have plenty of mana to spare."
The doctor gaped at him.
"Plenty? How much mana can a Level 3 Priest possibly have? There are hundreds of matches left! If you keep wasting mana like this, the school's supply of mana potions won't last!"
He pointed at a swordsman who'd just been healed.
"Look at him! He just got a tiny scrape on his arm, and you healed him back to full health! That's a complete waste!"
Ethan ignored him, continuing to cast Heals.
Kane had just knocked his opponent off the arena, barely breaking a sweat.
A soft white light descended on him, instantly restoring his already nearly full health to peak condition.
Even the faint numbness in his arm from blocking his opponent's attacks vanished without a trace.
Kane froze, then spotted Ethan standing near the medical station, calmly lowering his hand.
He felt like he'd just swallowed a fly, his disgust palpable.
"Mind your own business!"
Kane snapped at Ethan.
"Showing off your fancy Heal spell? I don't need your charity!"
Ethan just gave him a cool glance, his voice completely devoid of emotion.
"It's allowed by the rules. Just doing a good deed. Staying in peak condition will help you in your next match."
"You—!"
Kane was left sputtering, infuriated by Ethan's condescending tone.
Even though it was good advice, coming from Ethan, it felt like a deliberate insult.
He let out a cold huff and stormed off, determined to win his next match with even more overwhelming force.
He'd show this busybody Priest what real strength looked like.
The school doctor stared at Ethan, his expression morphing from shock to numbness.
This kid hadn't stopped casting Heals since the matches began, spamming them like they cost nothing.
And the craziest part?
His mana pool really did seem bottomless!
The doctor even found himself secretly calculating his own mana reserves, questioning his entire life's choices.
Were all the new generation Priests this absurdly overpowered now?
The audience in the stands had also started to notice the strange volunteer healer.
"What's that Priest from Class 7 doing over there?"
"Is he healing everyone who gets hurt?"
"Is he insane? Doesn't he plan on fighting in his own match later? Wasting mana like that?"
"Look at him—does he look like he's running out of mana?"
"Freak."
Lilian had also easily won her second-round match, her holy sword blazing with light, her attacks so powerful that her assassin opponent couldn't even get close without being blasted back by holy light.
Just like Kane, a Heal landed on her the moment she'd claimed victory.
Lilian could feel her body humming with restored energy—but instead of gratitude, she felt nothing but humiliation.
She was convinced Ethan was doing this on purpose, mocking her, implying she needed his healing to stay in shape.
She shot Ethan a venomous glare, making a slitting throat gesture at him.
Ethan ignored her completely, continuing his self-appointed duty.
After two rounds of matches, he'd healed fifty-two students, gaining twenty attribute points in the process.
Sometimes, the gap in strength between opponents was so large that the winner didn't even take a scratch. In those cases, casting Heals didn't grant him any attributes.
Other times, even healing the loser didn't trigger his talent's effect.
Still, Ethan was more than satisfied with his haul.
Soon, it was time for the third round.
"Arena No.7, Third Round! Ethan from Class 7 vs. William from Class 13! Contestants, please step onto the arena!"
All eyes in the stadium instantly locked onto Arena No.7.
Laughter, whistles, and excited chatter filled the air.
"Here we go! The main event!"
"Place your bets! I'll wager William finishes him off in under a minute!"
"A minute? You're overestimating the Priest! I say ten seconds tops!"
William hopped onto the arena with confidence, his movements light and agile. He waved at the audience, drawing a few amused laughs.
Ethan, meanwhile, walked up to the arena step by step, calm and unhurried, coming to a stop across from William.
The referee looked between the two contestants, going through the usual pre-match routine. "Are you both ready?"
William twirled his bow, a cocky grin on his face.
"Ready when you are!"
Ethan nodded.
"Ready."
"Match—BEGIN!"
The moment the referee's voice rang out, William immediately jumped backward, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow in one fluid motion.
"Sorry, Ethan! Swift Volley!"
He shouted loudly, locking onto Ethan instantly.
Three arrows wreathed in wind element shot forward in a triangular formation, sealing off all of Ethan's escape routes.
This was his signature opening move—fast and powerful, more than enough to take down a Priest who, in theory, had low agility.
Everyone in the audience thought the match would be over in an instant, some even already preparing to cheer for William's quick victory.
Yet, faced with the incoming arrows, Ethan's body moved with a subtle, almost imperceptible shift.
No earth-shattering display of power, no flashy skill effects.
He simply tilted his upper body slightly, like a willow branch swaying in the breeze.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
The three arrows brushed past his cheek, chest, and waist—all missing their mark completely, embedding themselves into the protective barrier behind him with dull thuds.
"What?!"
The entire stadium fell silent for a beat.
The smile froze on William's face.
"Fluke! It had to be a fluke!"
He gritted his teeth, drawing his bow again.
"Let's see you dodge this! Piercing Arrow!"
A single arrow, charged with even stronger wind energy, shot forward at blistering speed, aimed straight at Ethan's face!
This time, Ethan didn't even bother dodging sideways.
He simply tilted his head slightly at the exact moment the arrow was about to hit him.
The arrow hissed past his ear, once again leaving him completely unharmed!
This time, everyone saw it clearly—it was no fluke!
It was an impossibly precise judgment of timing and distance!
"W-what kind of dodging is that?!"
"He's a Priest! How does he have such insane reflexes?!"
"W-what kind of dodging is that?!"
"He's a Priest! How does he have such insane reflexes?!"
The crowd in the stands exploded into chaos.
Kane shot upright in his seat, his expression turning grave.
The sneer vanished from Lilian's face, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief.
Mr. Arnold stood at the edge of the arena, his eyes behind his glasses suddenly blazing with excitement.
William panicked, an inexplicable sense of pressure washing over him.
It felt like he wasn't shooting arrows at all—he was throwing toys at Ethan, who was toying with him effortlessly.
"I don't believe it! Storm Arrow Barrage!"
He snapped, starting to fire arrows wildly in a panic, the projectiles raining down on Ethan like a hailstorm.
But what happened next left the entire stadium in stunned awe.
Ethan's figure moved—on the arena.
Instead of retreating, he began to advance!
His steps weren't particularly fast, yet they were as elusive as a ghost.
He weaved through the dense curtain of arrows, dodging each one by the narrowest of margins.
Sometimes he sidestepped, sometimes he ducked, sometimes he simply spun on his heel.
The relentless arrow storm didn't even graze the hem of his clothes!
He moved forward steadily, step by step, advancing on William amid the gasps of the crowd!
"Monster! He's a monster!"
William's composure shattered completely, his hands shaking so badly that his aim went out the window.
A Archer caught off guard by a melee opponent—especially one as mysterious and unpredictable as Ethan—was as good as dead!
Once he'd closed the distance to William, Ethan decided to stop playing around and get down to business.
He casually reached out and caught one of the incoming arrows, then hurled it straight back at William.