The casual conversations and nervous energy filling the massive contestant seating area cut off abruptly as the arena's lighting shifted. The holographic displays that had been cycling through tournament statistics and highlights flickered once, twice, then went dark entirely. For a moment, the only sound was the collective intake of breath from millions of spectators who knew exactly what that meant.
Then light exploded across the grand stage in a cascade of brilliant white and gold, and Majordomo Prime's projection materialized above the platform with his usual dramatic flair. His elderly butler features were composed and dignified as always, hands clasped behind his back, but there was something in his artificial eyes that suggested he was enjoying this moment immensely.
"Welcome back, honored competitors," his voice boomed across the arena, amplified to reach every corner of the massive space. The crowd of spectators—millions of them packed into the tiered seating—erupted into deafening cheers that rolled like thunder through the air. Majordomo Prime waited patiently for the noise to subside before continuing, and when he spoke again, his tone carried weight that demanded absolute attention.
"You have survived the culling. One thousand fighters remain from the two million who began this tournament, and each of you has earned your place through skill, determination, and victory." He paused, letting that sink in, and Jade could feel the pride radiating from the fighters around him—pride mixed with nervous anticipation for what came next.
"But now," Majordomo Prime continued, his voice dropping into something colder and more final, "we enter the phase where there is no accumulation of wins and losses. No second chances. No room for error. This is single elimination. You fight. You win, you advance. You lose, you go home. It is that simple, and that brutal."
The holographic displays throughout the arena shifted, showing a massive tournament bracket that made several fighters suck in sharp breaths. One thousand names arranged in a tree structure that would systematically cut their numbers in half, then in half again, then again, until only the absolute best remained.
"The matches will be straightforward," Majordomo Prime explained, gesturing to the bracket. "One thousand becomes five hundred. Five hundred becomes two hundred and fifty. Two hundred and fifty becomes one hundred and twenty-five, at which point we will conduct a draw to determine who receives a bye into the next round." He smiled, and it was the kind of expression that suggested he found the entire process fascinating. "And then one hundred and twenty-five becomes sixty-three, and so on, until we crown our champion."
"Your opponents will be randomly selected from the remaining pool. There is no consideration for previous rankings, no protection for higher seeds, no preferential treatment of any kind. When your number is called, you fight whoever the system has matched you against. This is the purest test of skill—random pairings, equal stakes, absolute consequences."
....
Somewhere in the seating area, someone muttered a curse under their breath, and Jade didn't blame them. Random pairings meant you could face a weak opponent in your first match and the rank 1 fighter in your second. Pure luck of the draw mixed with pure skill, which made everything infinitely more complicated and dangerous.
"The matches begin in five minutes," Majordomo Prime announced, and the atmosphere transformed immediately from anticipation to razor-sharp focus. "When your watch alerts you, proceed to the stage entrance. Delays will result in automatic forfeiture. Surrenders are permitted at any time. Killing is prohibited, though accidents do happen in high-level combat." His artificial features somehow managed to convey both warning and understanding. "Fight well. Fight smart. And may the strongest survive."
Then he vanished, and the countdown appeared on every display: 5:00... 4:59... 4:58...
The contestant seating area erupted into controlled chaos. Some fighters immediately dropped into meditation, closing their eyes and centering themselves for what was coming. Others began last-minute stretches and warm-ups, rolling shoulders and testing flexibility with movements that spoke of years of training. A few checked their equipment obsessively, adjusting armor or weapons or artifacts with trembling hands that betrayed their nerves despite their confident expressions.
Jade simply sat there, breathing steady and even. His body was ready, his mind was calm, and all that remained was waiting for his number to be called.
"Here we go," Kara muttered from beside him, cracking her scarred knuckles with a sound like breaking twigs. "About damn time. I've been itching for a real fight since yesterday."
"Confident," Theron observed from Jade's other side, though his tone was more amused than critical. "What if you get matched against Darius Kane first round?"
"Then I get my ass kicked by the rank 1 fighter and go home knowing I lost to the best," Kara replied with a shrug that somehow managed to look both casual and determined.
The countdown hit zero, and the first matchup blazed across every holographic display in letters of gold:
MATCH 1
PARTICIPANT 1,847 VS PARTICIPANT 847,392
Jade's watch vibrated against his wrist at the same moment his code appeared on the screens, and he felt every eye in his section turn toward him. The sudden weight of attention pressed against his awareness—curiosity mixing with calculation and anticipation all blending together.
He stood in one fluid motion, ignoring the stares completely, and Kara's voice followed him as he moved toward the aisle. "Hey Jade, don't make it too quick! Some of us want to actually see what you can do!"
Jade didn't respond, but his lips twitched slightly under the hood as he walked down the steps toward the stage entrance. Around him, other fighters were leaning forward in their seats with clear interest in seeing how the mysterious hooded fighter from Nexarion would perform in single elimination where one mistake meant the end of everything.
The stage entrance loomed ahead—a rectangular archway with a shimmering barrier that would seal behind him once he stepped through. His opponent was already visible on the other side, a woman with short-cropped hair and visible scars across her arms who was bouncing on her heels with nervous energy that radiated off her in waves. Her watch showed participant number 1,847, and from her stance and the way she held herself, she was probably a close-combat specialist who relied on speed and aggression.
Jade stepped through the barrier, and the world narrowed to just the stage, his opponent, and the referee standing between them.
"Take your positions."
Jade moved to his designated starting point while his opponent did the same, her eyes never leaving him. Up close, he could see she was older than him—mid-twenties maybe—and the scars on her arms suggested years of experience that had left their mark on her body. But Jade didn't understand why she left them as is when a simple potion would have cleared them in a minute. Her stance was solid and balanced, ready to move in any direction the moment the match started.
The referee raised his hand. "Begin!"
...
The woman exploded forward with impressive speed, closing the distance between them in a blur of motion that would have caught most fighters off guard, her body swelling to a towering height of three meters. Her right fist came forward in a feint toward his face while her left hand dropped low, clearly planning to sweep his legs the moment he reacted to the fake attack.
Jade simply wasn't there when her fist reached where his head had been, having shifted his weight and angled his body just enough that her strike cut through empty air. His eyes had already tracked every micro-movement of her muscles, every shift in her weight distribution, every telegraph her body was screaming about what she planned to do next. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered and immediately followed through with the leg sweep exactly as planned.
Jade stepped over it with a movement so minimal it looked almost lazy, his hand shot out with lightning speed , grabbing her wrist and applied the slightest trace of mana to a nerve cluster with the kind of knowledge that came from years of understanding human anatomy.
Her entire arm went numb instantly, fingers spasming open against her will, and she stumbled back with a gasp of shock. "What—"
Jade didn't pursue or press his advantage. He simply stood there, waiting for her next move.
The woman shook her arm violently, trying to restore feeling to the dead limb, and he could see the exact moment she realized how completely outmatched she was. Her face paled, her stance wavered slightly, and when their eyes met across the stage, there was resignation mixed with relief in her expression—relief that this wouldn't have to continue, that she wouldn't have to suffer through a prolonged beating.
"I surrender," she said clearly, raising her functioning hand with as much dignity as she could manage.
The referee's hand shot up immediately. "Match concluded. Winner: Participant 847,392!"
The entire exchange had taken maybe six seconds from start to finish.
The crowd's reaction was mixed—some cheers echoing through the massive space, some disappointed groans from people who'd wanted to see more, and some stunned silence from spectators who were still processing how quickly it had ended. The commentators were already starting their analysis, voices overlapping in excitement as they replayed the brief exchange, but Jade tuned them out completely and headed back toward the stage exit.
"Thank you for the match," Jade said quietly as he passed his opponent.
She blinked in surprise, then managed a weak smile that held genuine respect. "You're... really something else, you know ? Good luck in the next rounds."
Jade nodded once and stepped through the barrier back into the contestant area, where he was immediately met with a variety of reactions. Kara was grinning and shaking her head like she'd just witnessed something both impressive and frustrating. Theron looked thoughtful, his eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the battle. Lysander's expression was carefully neutral, but something cold and calculating flickered in his eyes.
Jade returned to his seat, settling back into position as the holographic displays shifted to show the next matchup.
PARTICIPANT 2,934 VS PARTICIPANT 7,821
Two different fighters stood and made their way to the stage, and Jade let himself relax slightly as attention shifted away from him and toward the new match. Around the seating area, conversations had already started—people discussing his match, analyzing his technique, speculating about his abilities and what talent could allow that kind of speed.
He tuned it all out and focused on the stage below, where the next match was about to begin.
This one lasted longer—nearly three minutes of back-and-forth exchanges that had the crowd on the edge of their seats. One fighter used barrier techniques to control space and limit movement, while the other summoned some kind of golem to break through the barriers with raw power. It was a fascinating study in contrasting approaches, and eventually the summoner managed to land a decisive strike that sent their opponent crashing into the barrier wall hard enough to crack the crystalline surface with a sound like shattering glass. The referee called it immediately, and medical personnel rushed onto the stage to check the unconscious fighter for serious injuries.
....