It was time to go.
Axel buttoned up his school uniform and made his way to the arena. The place was packed with loud students, restless teachers, and the hum of excitement pressing down from all sides. He slipped through the crowd without trouble, quietly settling into a seat near the middle of the second row up front. From here, he had a clear, unobstructed view of the arena down below.
The auditorium was built like an indoor coliseum. Wide, stacked rows of seating stretched up the curved walls, each tier designed so the spectators could look down directly into the center of the arena.
At the heart of it all was the fighting platform; a flat, circular stage built to take punishment. Above the arena, suspended from the wall, was the announcer's station: a sleek, glass-paneled balcony, floating like a command bridge over the entire space.
That's where he stood.
The man on the platform had a strange, lanky build. His silver hair was combed back, not a strand out of place, and his crisp green uniform shimmered faintly with golden trim.
Austin Ruflin.
Principal of Atherion University. A former adventurer who was once head of the greatest dungeon fighting party in their century, now standing there with the relaxed, easy grin of a man who had nothing left to prove. The kind of smile that wouldn't look out of place selling you overpriced vacuum cleaners.
He raised one hand, mana casually curling around his fingers.
"Ahem, testing, one, two, three. Can everyone hear me?"
His voice roared across the arena, a perfectly tuned amplification that made more than a few students wince.
"Good. Welcome, freshmen of Atherion University. I am your principal, Austin Ruflin."
A moment of silence passed. No one dared to speak over him.
"First of all, congratulations. You passed the written exams, the interviews, the recommendations. That's impressive." His smile lingered, but his words tightened. "But none of that matters anymore."
A low murmur swept the crowd.
"From now on, there are only two things that will keep you alive in this school: growth and survival."
His tone was light, almost playful, but the weight of his words dug in, heavy and sharp.
"You will fight battles that make you wish you were dead. You will face classmates who would rather see you broken. And when you reach your limits, remember, this is the easy part."
More whispers. Nervous glances. Some students sat up straighter as if bracing themselves would make a difference.
Axel didn't move.
He already knew this speech. Word for word.
"Now then," Ruflin's grin widened. "What better way to start the year than with a proper showcase? Our top-ranked students will give you a taste of what real strength looks like."
He paused briefly, letting the tension build.
"First match: Rank 1, Yanin Roven, versus Rank 2, Landon Dusktone."
A large blue holographic screen materialized above the arena, displaying crisp profile shots of Yanin and Landon, their names glowing beneath them.
The crowd exploded with cheers and chatter.
Of course they did.
A ranked fight right out of the gate.
Rank 1 versus Rank 2.
One of the heroines against the supposed rival character.
A fan favorite match-up.
Axel leaned back in his seat, watching as a shimmering mana barrier snapped to life around the platform.
The arena doors on opposite sides slid open.
Yanin Roven stepped out first.
White hair and crimson eyes.
Her uniform sleeves were lazily rolled up, exposing her slender wrists. She wasn't tall, but she didn't need to be. She moved like the space belonged to her. Calm. Cold. Effortless.
She didn't wave to the crowd. She didn't look around. She simply walked to her starting position like she had done this a hundred times before.
In the story, Yanin was known as the Untouchable Spear.
Her combat sense was overwhelming. Her growth rate was terrifying.
I had spent my entire last life failing to get anywhere near her.
And opposite her was Landon Dusktone.
Black hair with faint silver streaks. A lean, muscular build. Sharp gray eyes. Handsome. He had that natural air of someone who assumed the world was supposed to look at him. His blazer hung open, his sword strapped lazily at his hip, his grin carrying just the right amount of arrogance.
He was supposed to be Axel's rival. The one who pushed him forward. The one who shaped his strength.
But in my first life, I didn't even register on his radar.
No hostility. No interest.
Just silent disregard.
That was somehow worse.
The referee raised his hand. "This is a friendly match. Begin when ready."
The air grew thick. The arena seemed to hold its breath.
Yanin didn't move. Her spear was already in hand.
Landon smirked, resting his hand on his sword hilt.
"Do me a favor," he called out, "don't hold back."