Although he had lost this round, he wasn't eliminated yet. He still had a chance in the loser's bracket. But unlike the earlier round-robin stage, the loser's bracket was a brutal, single-elimination gauntlet.
One chance. One mistake, and it would all be over. The danger was immense.
Among these prodigies in the duel, only a select few could afford even the smallest slip. The rest were forced to play every card they had, holding nothing back. Just like Sebastian and Chamber in this match.
Before the game, Sebastian had been ranked around one hundred, while Chamber sat just past two thousand, but rankings meant little once the battle began. Chamber had revealed a trump card that he'd hidden for ages, one that no outsider had seen before. In one move, he'd nearly neutralized the Astra Militarum's most powerful weapon, tipping the battle heavily in his favor.
Had it been anyone else, they would have been crushed here and now. Yet Sebastian wasn't anyone else. Even so, the loser's bracket would be even more dangerous. Lose there, and you were truly finished.
"I can't lose… I can't lose!" Chamber's nails dug so deep into his palms that blood welled up beneath his clenched fists. His teeth ground together with fury.
The family's direct descendants were surely waiting for him to bring honor to their name. How could he falter here?
Poof, poof, poof…
Boom, boom, boom…
The Astra Militarum's missiles and electromagnetic rifles continued their relentless assault. Every second of hesitation meant hundreds more barbarian warriors falling.
"Damn it! Damn it all!" Finally, Chamber's face twisted in defeat. With a bitter sigh, he pressed the "Quit" button. He had chosen to concede.
"Congratulations to Sebastian on his victory!" The pleasant voice of the announcer rang out.
"Huuhhh!" Cheers and whistles immediately erupted throughout the arena.
"Sebastian! Sebastian!"
The crowd roared his name in unison.
"Victory! Victory…" Clifford and Otwin leaped up with excitement, while Terrell and Jane exchanged relieved smiles.
"Even though Chamber was prepared and his barbarian totem field heavily countered Sebastian's pilots," Clifford's Father chuckled, "Sebastian still proved stronger."
"Dad, have you booked tickets for the next game yet?" Clifford asked eagerly.
"No need to rush." Clifford's Father smiled calmly. "I already have. With Sebastian's current strength, barring any accidents, he should advance easily."
"The next match will be no problem," Clifford agreed confidently. "It's just a matter of who he'll face."
After his win, Sebastian was now among the top two thousand competitors. The next round would cut that number in half again: two thousand to one thousand. But the round after that one thousand would become five hundred. That would be the most crucial battle yet.
Reaching the top five hundred meant earning a spot in the qualifiers, joining one thousand total competitors. The remaining five hundred spots would be filled by those who fought their way up from the loser's bracket.
"One thousand to five hundred is brutal," Terrell said with a grim nod. "Everyone at that level is strong. None can be underestimated."
"Exactly." Clifford's Father folded his arms. "Other than the top thirty, whose strength is undeniable, there's no guaranteed safety. Many of those with powerful backers or fortuitous encounters have terrifying trump cards. And race-specific advantages are always a threat, surprise counters can change everything."
"Not to mention…" he added. "History shows us that matchups matter. Even a powerful race can fall if it's hard-countered."
"Race counters, huh?" Clifford mused. "Sebastian's pilots and musketeers shouldn't have any natural weaknesses, right?"
"For now, it seems so," Clifford's Father replied. "But we'll see. Let's just hope he doesn't run into a top thirty contender next round."
With the match concluded, the Astra Militarum withdrew through the planetary passage, returning to Greater Terra to rest and recover.
Sebastian, too, was transported to the immense, towering rest hall. Their match had ended mid-way through the schedule, and already, many other competitors had gathered there after their own battles.
The four-thousand-player elimination was divided over two days. The first two matches were held back-to-back, separated only by a two-hour rest period. The intriguing twist was that nobody yet knew their next opponent. Not Sebastian. Not anyone.
Everyone would await the official lottery draw, randomized to prevent targeted matchups. It was meant to discourage powerful factions from preparing countermeasures in advance. Of course, such measures could only go so far. Some forces were notorious for smuggling rare treasures to their chosen champions regardless.
For now, every player had to remain in this hall for the full two-hour break, including those who had lost, as they would soon begin their own fight for survival in the loser's bracket.
"Hey, Hess, did you lose or win?" What a coincidence, right beside Sebastian sat the competitors from Giant Island, including Hess. A curly-haired young man sauntered over and teased.
"Of course I won! Would I really fall in the first round?" Hess's expression soured.
"You? Lose to a freshman? Honestly, I'm worried about you getting knocked out first." The curly-haired youth chuckled smugly.
"Scram!" Hess barked, glaring fiercely.
Laughter rippled through the hall, easing the tension in the air.
"Losing to that monster doesn't mean I'm weak…" Hess grumbled bitterly. "But now everyone thinks I'm easy prey."
"Don't let it get to you," One of his companions reassured him. "If you face that freshman again, just crush him next time. That'll shut them up."
Hess's face stiffened. He wanted to win… but earlier, after finishing his own match, he had watched Sebastian and Chamber fight from start to finish. And that hope had vanished. Two months had passed since he last faced Sebastian, and that demon had grown even stronger.
"Damn it," Hess muttered. "I actually lost to a freshman."
Not far to Sebastian's right, a pair of cold, burning eyes fixed on him. None other than Chamber, the one he'd just defeated. Though he had the loser's bracket as a lifeline, he already knew what awaited him, mockery from the family's inner circle.
"Hmph. I'll climb back up," He thought darkly. "I'll make it into the top. This Sebastian… I can't beat him yet, but I'll bide my time. My barbarian race needs more growth. The Group Star Competition is still a while off. By then, my domain will be far stronger. By then…"
He smirked coldly. "Not just Sebastian, but even the top thirty… I'll crush them all."
The hall grew quieter as the competitors settled into recovery. Some sat cross-legged with eyes closed, meditating in silence. Others reviewed recordings of their matches, dissecting every move and mistake. Many dove into their home planets, fine-tuning the strategies of their carefully crafted Supernatural races.
Sebastian simply leaned back, closing his eyes, letting his mind rest.
Three full days passed in Greater Terra's accelerated time while only two hours ticked by here. Enough to give the Astra Militarum a chance to recover. After all, unlike the Supernatural beings, they were mere mortals, their bodies less resilient.
An hour later, the familiar, pleasant voice filled the hall again: "The draw for the winners' group of two thousand, and the losers' group of two thousand, is now beginning. Please be ready."
Only then did every participant finally open their eyes. One after another, they turned their heads toward the top of the grand hall, where a massive, awe-inspiring projection loomed overhead.
It displayed the lottery results, unchanged from before. The mysterious power of origin was once again used to draw numbered balls, each representing a participant. The first draw was for the loser's bracket.
"Weaker… weaker…" Many silently prayed in their hearts as the glowing numbers flickered across the massive display.
The drawing was over in an instant. In the blink of an eye, the matchups for all 1,000 groups in the loser's bracket appeared at once.
Next came the winner's bracket. The hall fell into a tense silence as countless pairs of eyes remained locked on the screen, not daring to blink. Only a handful of confident participants, those whose strength placed them at the very top, leaned back casually in their chairs, unconcerned with fate's choice.
The two thousand people in the winner's bracket were all exceptional, elite individuals, prodigies among prodigies. Some of them had yet to even reveal their true strength.
"As long as I don't meet someone from the top thirty, I'll make it to the next round for sure," A black-haired young man thought to himself, his fists clenched.
"Don't pair me with the Fire Supernatural race. Don't let it be them!" A delicate, pale woman silently screamed this prayer.
"It doesn't matter," Mused a burly, scar-faced man, a faint grin playing on his lips. "Even if I draw one of the top thirty, I'll just use my trump card early."
Each participant had their own thoughts, their own strategies running through their minds.
The drawing finished, and in an instant, all 1,000 matchups for the winner's bracket appeared simultaneously on the projection. Sebastian scanned the board quickly, finding his name and then the opponent listed beside it: Zachariah Jacobson.
"Zachariah Jacobson?" His brow furrowed, the name unfamiliar.
"Zachariah Jacobson?" Inside one of the private viewing boxes, Clifford and several others exchanged puzzled glances as their gazes flickered toward an older man.
"This Zachariah Jacobson…" Murmured Clifford's father after a thoughtful pause, "he has no notable background and isn't well-known. But anyone who has reached the top two thousand can't be underestimated."
"So the next opponent for me… is Sebastian?" In another corner of the hall, Jacobson himself, dressed in black with a gloomy expression, stared at the match results. A gleam of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.
Sebastian's fame was growing rapidly. After his consecutive victories over Hess and Chamber, his name now resounded across the Domain.
"The opponents I fear most are melee powerhouses like Giants or Behemoths," Jacobson thought, a faint smile curling his lips. "But Sebastian's forces? Musketeers and pilots, long-range fighters with frail physiques."
"Those are the weakest combatants among all participants this time," he mused, confidence swelling, "I don't fear ranged firepower. No matter how strong your pilots are, they won't be able to touch my race."
He could already picture victory in his mind, the next round firmly within his grasp.
Meanwhile, Sebastian was just as vigilant. He had already begun digging into every scrap of information about Jacobson, including footage from earlier matches. Not only did he study them personally, but he also forwarded the data to the top brass of the Astra Militarum.
Back on Greater Terra, military analysts pored over every detail.
An hour passed in the blink of an eye. Both brackets, winners and losers, were ready to commence simultaneously. One by one, the contestants vanished from the staging area, transported into their designated combat arenas.
A deafening roar erupted from the crowd, voices like crashing waves filling the colossal venue.
"Sebastian! Sebastian!" Fans, many of them young women, screamed his name with unwavering devotion.
The arena was packed to capacity. Sebastian's match had already secured a top spot in the viewership rankings, earning a position in the top one thousand broadcasts. His title as the strongest freshman was now beyond dispute, solidified by his advancement into the top two thousand.
Out of all four thousand remaining participants, he was the only freshman, a distinction that had made him a sensation. Every major faction was now capitalizing on his meteoric rise, with influential academies and organizations scrambling to promote his image.
Though there were other students from prestigious academies among the competitors, none drew attention like Sebastian. The Empire, Giant Island, and ruling powers had all begun leveraging his fame as a spectacle worth investing in. For them, he was a rare hotspot, a chance for immense publicity. Almost all of the 100 million live viewers had tuned in just to witness his next performance.
"Hmph, enjoy it while it lasts," Jacobson muttered in his preparation chamber, irritation flickering in his eyes. "When he loses, let's see if they'll still chant his name."
He turned to his troops, delivering final words of encouragement to the race he had painstakingly built.
The match began, and the portal between planets, the battlefield's channel, flared open.
As always, the Astra Militarum's strategy was methodical and precise. Micro-drones entered first, silently sweeping the area, ensuring safety. Once the reconnaissance confirmed the field was clear, towering gorillas marched forward, forming a defensive perimeter.
Behind them came a tide of Guardsmen and Pikachu, transported swiftly by spider-like armored vehicles, their formation unfolding like clockwork. Above, Typhoon fighters streaked through the skies, their engines rumbling like thunder.
But this time, the Typhoon fighters weren't the centerpiece of Sebastian's army, his opponent was far from ordinary.
The micro-drones relayed data back to command. The enemy's planetary entrance was… empty. Not a single Supernatural creature was visible. No airborne scouts. No defenders at the gates.
"This Jacobson…" Clifford's voice broke the tense silence in the observation box. "Both of his Supernatural species are underground dwellers? Can you believe that?"
They had all studied Jacobson's dossier thoroughly, yet this detail still surprised them. Creating two different Supernatural species was unusual but acceptable. Creating two subterranean races was practically unheard of.
"Underground species come with massive strengths… and equally massive weaknesses. They're easy to counter. What was he thinking?" Otwin asked, puzzled.
"Likely his planet's terrain made it ideal for subterranean development," Terrell offered thoughtfully.
Clifford nodded. "That's probably it. But for Sebastian, this is going to be tricky."
"Pilots can't unleash their full potential underground," Otwin added grimly. "Neither can musketeers."
"Exactly," Clifford agreed. "The underground races fear brute-force melee fighters, but Sebastian's army specializes entirely in ranged assaults."
The tension was palpable. Even the crowd of 100 million gasped collectively when they learned Jacobson's entire force operated from beneath the ground.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
A faint rumbling echoed through the battlefield as the enemy's movement disturbed the earth below.
Fortunately, Sebastian had anticipated this. The Astra Militarum deployed an array of underground detection systems, spreading them around the battlefield to track enemy tunneling attempts.
At the same time, excavation machinery roared to life, digging deep trenches around their defensive perimeter. Barrels of Crimson Lion's Blood, highly toxic to subterranean species, were poured into the trenches. This rare substance had been secured from the Crimson Lion's planet during a prior military conquest, a resource Sebastian had specifically sought out.
The strategy mirrored past battles against underground forces. Toxic gas would be their first offensive strike, saturating enemy tunnels with deadly fumes. Modern chemical warfare had advanced for decades, and its lethality was now unmatched.
On the other side of the field, Jacobson's lips curled into a mocking smile.
"They think the toxic gas will save them? My race has survived hundreds of wars. We've seen this trick before," he sneered. "They're underestimating us."
Yet, unbeknownst to him, the Astra Militarum wasn't relying solely on gas this time. A far deadlier, closely guarded weapon was being readied, one designed specifically to annihilate underground enemies.