Before Mr. Wong could signal the start of the match, the students from No. 1 Middle School were already strategizing.
"Let's all target Ethan's summoned beasts first," someone whispered.
"We'll let the assassin from No. 2 sneak behind and take him down quick."
The plan was simple—strike fast, overwhelm quickly, and don't let it drag out. If the battle turned into a long fight, even if they won, it would be humiliating.
After all, the teams were clearly mismatched. On one side were Ethan and Fairwind, just two people. On the other side, a team of ten highly ranked students, all brimming with confidence. Even Fairwind had already injured himself before the match began, which should have made things easier.
Still, none of the ten dared to attack first. They were all waiting for Ethan to summon his beasts.
But instead of reaching for a summoning scroll or calling out a name, Ethan simply said:
"Who said I need summoned beasts?"
"!?"
The entire group froze.
What did that even mean?
Was he mocking them?
Everyone knew Ethan's strength came from his summoned beasts—his success in battle always revolved around them. Without them, wasn't he just an ordinary beast master?
According to standard logic, a beast master couldn't improve much once their beasts reached the mature stage—unless they acquired a new beast altogether.
In other words, Ethan should have been stuck. He might look flashy now, but the ten S-rank professionals believed they would catch up soon. To them, Ethan's strength was nothing more than a sum of several mid-tier beasts. He was powerful, yes, but temporary.
So in their eyes, Ethan couldn't compare to someone like Mr. Wong, whose power was a solid 700-star rating built on his own personal strength.
That's why Mr. Wong hadn't taken Ethan seriously either.
He believed, like many others, that no matter how flashy Ethan was, he still couldn't rival the raw combat legacy of the Winters family.
And now, Ethan had just insulted all ten of them in one sentence.
Screw the plans.
Rage boiled over. The carefully formed strategy collapsed.
The ten students charged at Ethan in unison, eager to knock him down and prove a point.
Fairwind, who had been bleeding freely after stabbing himself earlier, noticed the incoming rush.
Ethan still hadn't moved. He just stood there, calm, unmoved, like this wasn't a big deal at all.
Fairwind chuckled, pulling out his golden staff. "Haha... This kid's really something."
The audience watching from a distance was buzzing with confusion and panic.
"What's going on? Did Fairwind just stab himself again?"
"That's a lot of blood. Did he hit an artery?!"
"Why isn't Ethan summoning anything? Is he frozen in fear?"
"Wait—didn't he just say he doesn't need summoned beasts?"
"Dude's going to get wrecked. That's what he gets for acting like a big shot. I just want this to end so we can finish the ranking event and go home."
Fairwind, confused but thrilled by the chaos, was ready to rush in and slice a few attackers down.
But before he could take a single step—
Hum~~
The jewel at the top of Ethan's staff began to glow.
In the blink of an eye, the ground around him began to change.
The clean white marble tiles of the square were rapidly transforming into golden sand—as if an ancient desert was rising from beneath the city.
Within two seconds, the area within tens of meters had become a swirling wasteland.
The ten attackers from No. 1 and No. 2 Middle School were charging in full speed. But suddenly, the sand dragged at their feet, pulling and resisting every step.
"What the hell?! What is this skill?!"
A few students with high-speed movement abilities tried to adapt, dashing to regain momentum—but it was too late.
They had all misjudged.
The sand underfoot wasn't just decorative.
Buzz... buzz...
The sand began to swirl, creating a powerful vortex that pulled everything toward its center.
From the audience's point of view, it looked like a giant whirlpool of sand was forming, swallowing the challengers like a monster of nature.
A massive sand wave surged up, consuming the team of ten in its golden embrace.
The sight made some spectators gasp in terror. Others fell silent.
In that moment, it didn't look like a school skirmish—it looked like a natural disaster.
It was terrifying. It was awe-inspiring.
Ethan didn't just defeat his opponents—he made everyone watching feel like they were staring at something beyond human.
This... This is why he didn't summon a beast.
Inside the storm, the ten attackers were battered, thrown, and buried in the sandstorm. Their formation shattered completely. Their skills, tactics, and weapons were meaningless against the sheer force of nature that Ethan had conjured.
He had no need for beasts—he was the disaster.
As quickly as it had begun, the sand stopped spinning.
The golden dust began to settle.
And when it cleared...
Ten elite students lay sprawled across the sand-covered ground—defeated, groaning, barely conscious.
Their armor and weapons were scratched, chipped, or broken. Though their lives were spared, they had clearly been hit hard.
"Medic! Where are the healers?" someone shouted from the crowd.
"Get over here! They're alive, but they're in bad shape!"
A few healers rushed forward, quickly scanning each body.
"Phew... They're okay," one of them confirmed. "They're unconscious, but their vitals are stable. Looks like Ethan held back just enough."
The crowd sighed in relief, but now all eyes turned back to Ethan.
And this time, no one looked at him with doubt.
No one dared to question him.
Even the loudest voices earlier were now silent, jaws hanging open in disbelief.
Someone finally laughed awkwardly. "Guess I was wrong about him... Ethan's no joke."
"I wanted to fight too!" Fairwind shouted, still covered in his own blood. "You couldn't leave one for me?"
Ethan looked at him with a smirk. "You seem to be bleeding enough for both of us."
"Where's the healer?" Fairwind groaned. "I need milk! And maybe a sandwich..."
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