Thud!
A dull, meaty sound rang out.
"Agh!" William screamed in agony, his longbow clattering to the ground.
The arrow had struck him square in the shoulder.
Ethan pulled the arrow out, and William's scream cut off abruptly, replaced by a pained grunt.
But immediately afterward, a warm, gentle white light enveloped the wound on his shoulder.
The searing pain faded rapidly, and the wound began to heal at a visible rate, leaving not even a scar behind.
"Heal?!"
William stared in shock, and the entire audience was left dumbfounded.
In the middle of an intense arena duel—attacking your opponent, then immediately healing them?
What kind of tactic was this?
Was it humiliation?
Or some bizarre new strategy?
Even the referee hesitated for a moment, considering whether to intervene in what appeared to be a deliberate act of "toying" with an opponent.
William's face turned bright red, overcome with unprecedented shame and anger. "Ethan! You bastard—"
But his curse was cut short as Ethan moved without hesitation.
He drove the arrow back into William's shoulder—same spot, same depth as before.
"Aaaagh—!" Another scream tore from William's lips, the intense pain making him stagger, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
The stadium erupted in an uproar!
"What is he doing?!"
"Hitting him then healing him? What kind of sick game is this?!"
"He's doing it on purpose! Definitely on purpose!"
"This is torture!"
Amidst the stunned whispers and shouts of the crowd, Ethan raised his hand once more.
Another Heal landed precisely on William's fresh wound.
The pain receded again, and the wound healed instantly.
William stood rooted to the spot, gasping for breath, his face a twisted mixture of agony, confusion, and terror.
He had absolutely no idea what the lunatic in front of him was trying to do.
This cycle of repeated injury and healing was far more terrifying and psychologically crushing than a simple defeat.
He'd even forgotten that he could end the match by surrendering.
In just a few short seconds, Ethan cast dozens of Heals on him, finally copying his talent.
William collapsed onto the arena, gasping for breath, his eyes glazed over.
The relentless cycle of being stabbed and healed had drained every last ounce of his willpower.
His mind was completely blank, and he'd even forgotten he was still in a match.
Ethan stood calmly before him, dropping the arrow in his hand to the ground.
He'd gotten the talent he wanted—this fight was over.
"Surrender?" Ethan asked, his voice quiet yet clear enough to cut through the sudden silence that had fallen over the arena.
William jolted violently, as if waking from a nightmare, and scrambled to shout, "I surrender! I surrender!"
The referee finally snapped out of his daze, shot Ethan a complex look, raised his hand, and declared, "Winner—Ethan!"
The audience fell completely silent.
No cheers, no applause—only an eerie hush hung in the air.
People stared at the calm-faced Priest on the stage, then at the dazed William on the ground, and swallowed hard in unison.
Everyone's gaze toward Ethan had changed completely.
What had started as mockery and amusement had turned to shock and an indescribable flicker of fear.
This was no healer who saved lives and cured the wounded.
This was a sadist who took pleasure in torturing people!
"Insane people aren't allowed to be Priests, right?" someone muttered quietly from the stands.
The voice was soft, but in the deathly quiet of the audience, it traveled a long way—earning unanimous nods of agreement from those nearby.
Ethan paid no mind to the bizarre gazes directed his way.
He calmly stepped down from the arena and returned to the school doctor's station.
The school doctor watched him approach and unconsciously took a half-step back.
"Uh, kid, are you okay?" the doctor asked dryly, instantly realizing how redundant the question sounded.
Of course Ethan was fine—it was everyone else who was in trouble!
Ethan stopped and looked at the doctor, his tone still calm.
"I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, sir."
His eyes swept over the group of newly defeated contestants lingering near the medical station, all of them nursing various injuries.
The few fighters who'd been grimacing through their treatments froze the moment they met his gaze, then practically screamed in unison:
"No! I'm good! Just a scratch! No need for healing!"
"Yeah, yeah! I can handle this myself! No trouble at all!"
"I'm perfectly fine! Never felt better!"
They waved their hands frantically, even instinctively covering their wounds with their palms—as if terrified that Ethan would come over and subject them to his "stab-and-heal" cycle too.
Are you kidding me?
Sure, free healing sounded great, but who knew what kind of twisted new game this mentally unstable Priest might come up with next?
The cost of that free treatment was way too high!
They'd rather grit their teeth and bear the pain.
But Ethan didn't care what they thought.
He cast a Mass Heal, instantly mending all their injuries.
The contestants exchanged stunned glances, then flexed their bodies in disbelief.
The wounds that had been throbbing with pain just moments ago were completely gone, and they felt even better than before they'd gotten hurt.
"Uh… thanks?"
Seeing that Ethan had no intention of doing anything else, one contestant mumbled a quick thanks and then scurried away as fast as he could.
Ethan merely nodded slightly in response.
His eyes had already drifted to the other arenas, searching for his next "patients."
Because Ethan had been busy farming talents on his own arena, all the other contestants in the third batch had already finished their matches.
It was now time for the fourth batch to fight.
Amy was among them.
On the arena, Amy's figure moved like the wind.
Her opponent was a burly Warrior wielding a massive two-handed greatsword, his strikes so powerful that each slash cut through the air with a deafening howl.
Yet he couldn't even touch the hem of Amy's clothes.
In the end, Amy landed a critical hit, knocking him clean off the arena.
Ethan's Heal arrived right on cue, mending the wounds of both fighters.
Amy glanced in Ethan's direction and nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
Ethan also noticed that Amy had reached the astonishing level of seven.
It seemed that after leaving the newbie dungeon yesterday, she hadn't gone home to rest at all.
She'd leveled up to seven in a single day.
Ethan wasn't sure if he should call it a testament to her incredible talent or her massive financial resources.
The fourth batch of matches ended quickly.
Then the fifth.
Then the sixth.
Then the seventh.
The preliminary rounds raged on in full swing.
The fights on the arenas grew more and more intense, and the number of injured contestants kept climbing.
Ethan's presence became more and more prominent.
He moved like an inexhaustible healing machine, weaving precisely between the edges of the arenas.
His mana pool seemed bottomless, and his Heals were cast without any visible cooldown.
The audience, initially shocked, gradually grew numb to the spectacle.
"There he goes again."
"Does this guy's mana bar connect to another dimension or something?"
"How many has he healed now? Close to two hundred?"
"The school doctor's basically out of a job."
Finally, after twenty-three grueling batches of matches, the first round of preliminaries came to an end.
Half of the students had advanced to the next round.
But the losers weren't completely out of the game—not yet, anyway.
After all, they still had one point left on their scoreboards.
They'd get another chance to fight for a spot in the top five later.
A collective sigh of relief and a chorus of groans erupted from the stands.
The half-hour break passed in the blink of an eye.
The big screen began to roll again.
Two hundred and ninety-nine students remained in the second round.
Which meant one lucky person would get a bye and advance directly to the next round without fighting.
Everyone was praying they'd be the one to get the bye.
Everyone except Ethan.
But fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Ethan scanned the screen, and finally found his name—under the list of bye recipients.
The stadium fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted into a cacophony of confused murmurs and amused chatter.
"A bye? He got the bye again?"
"Good riddance. At least he'll rest for a round, and the others will get a break from his psychological torture."
"Damn it. If I were his opponent, I'd be thanking the heavens right now."
Ethan stared at the screen, a faint frown creasing his brow.
A bye meant one fewer chance to fight—and one fewer chance to farm talents.
It was definitely not good news.
But rules were rules, and Ethan had no choice but to accept it.
After this brief interlude, the second round of matches began in earnest.
Fights broke out across the arenas once more, even more intense than the first round.
The students who'd advanced were no slouches, and their duels were far more drawn-out and fierce, leading to even more injuries.
Ethan didn't waste a single second. He immediately got back to his "job."
The white glow of his Heals lit up the arena more frequently than ever before, covering almost every single stage.
"By the light of the Holy Spirit—does this guy never need to regenerate mana?" one spectator groaned, watching Ethan cast seven or eight Heals in rapid succession without pausing.
"I've stopped being surprised. This guy is just a straight-up cheat code."
The school doctor had long since given up trying to keep up.
He was now lounging comfortably in a rocking chair, completely checked out.
Ethan had single-handedly taken over all the healing duties for the entire tournament, and his efficiency was far higher than the doctor's plus all the backup healing scrolls combined.
If he couldn't beat him, he might as well just kick back and relax.
Ethan, meanwhile, was completely immersed in the rush of his rapidly increasing stats.
As the contestants' levels rose, the number of attribute points he gained from healing them also increased.
The only downside was that no new talents had popped up for him to copy.
Time flew by as Ethan healed the fighters tirelessly.
When the second round ended, only one hundred and fifty students remained.
After a short break, the third round began immediately.
The big screen rolled once more.
This time, there were no byes.
Ethan found his opponent's name.
Arena No.3, First Batch: Ethan vs. Kyle.
Just then, the loudspeaker blared to life: "Arena No.3, First Batch! Ethan from Class 7 vs. Kyle from Class 5! Contestants, please step onto the arena!"
The stadium instantly erupted into a buzz of discussion.
No one had expected Ethan to be back in action so soon—and his opponent was none other than Kyle, the famous "Iron Wall" of Class 5.
While Kyle didn't have an S-rank talent, he possessed an extremely rare A-rank Defense talent.
Coupled with his Rare-class Stone Shield Warrior profession, he was notorious for his impenetrable defenses.
Everyone was saying that even an S-rank talent might not be able to take him down.
In the first round, Kyle had faced Sun from Class 3, an A-rank talent Flame Burst Mage.
Sun was even one level higher than Kyle, yet he'd been completely helpless against him.
In the end, Sun had exhausted all his mana, but Kyle had remained completely unscathed.
Sun had no choice but to concede defeat and leave the arena.
"This is gonna be good! Kyle's defenses are legendary!"
"A Priest vs. a Shield Warrior? How's he supposed to win? Breaking through that defense will be impossible! I'm betting on Kyle!"
"William was a glass cannon—anybody could beat him once they got close.
But Kyle's so tough that even Sun couldn't scratch him! Is a Priest's attack power really stronger than a Mage's?"
"But you have to admit, Ethan's speed is totally weird."