The moment the chains snapped, the green-fanged wolf, a low-ranked Greenhorn monster, locked its predatory gaze on the green-haired boy standing a dozen meters away.
Its emerald fur bristled under the dome's faint, rune-etched glow, and a guttural growl reverberated through Sky Pillar City's Awakening Center, chilling the air like a winter gust.
The commentator, a wiry man with a voice like rolling thunder, seized the moment to rally the crowd.
"For today's first awakening battles, our four brave participants face green-fanged wolves, fierce low-ranked Greenhorn beasts! These creatures lack magical talents but boast relentless speed and agility. Brace yourselves for a lightning-fast showdown!"
His words ignited cheers that shook the arena stands, the crowd's fervor echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
Within the shimmering energy barrier, the crowd's roar faded to a distant hum, letting the green-haired boy focus. His eyes, sharp with determination despite a flicker of fear, never left the wolf.
He gripped his two-handed sword, its blade glinting with pure sharpness.
"I've got this,"
he muttered, steeling himself.
He charged at full speed, sword raised to strike.
The green-fanged wolf lunged faster—twice as fast—its claws tearing furrows in the arena's dust-strewn floor. In two heartbeats, their clash erupted in a shower of sparks as the wolf's menacing fangs met the boy's magical blade.
The impact sent the boy flying backward, crashing onto the arena floor with a grunt, his pride as bruised as his body. Yet the wolf wasn't unscathed either; clashing fangs-first against a peak Rank 1 magical weapon was a grave mistake for any low-ranked Greenhorn beast.
These low-intelligence creatures, driven by instinct, couldn't dodge attacks they didn't deem lethal. This grave mistake was a costly one, as the sharpness of the sword in addition to the force of the boy's slash had directly sliced one of the wolfs fangs in two.
Howling in fury after losing a fang, the green-fanged wolf pounced again. The boy, barely back on his feet, intercepted a claw swipe aimed at his neck with the flat of his sword.
The force wrenched the blade from his hands, sending it spinning to embed in the arena floor a dozen meters away.
Stumbling backward, the boy had no time to recover before the wolf coiled for another pounce. Panic seized him, and he screamed,
"Arrrrrgh! Help!"
The protector reacting swiftly, appeared beside the wolf in a blur, delivering a devastating kick that sent the beast crashing into the dome's barrier. The barrier's runes glowed defiantly, absorbing the impact without a ripple. The green-fanged wolf slumped limply, defeated.
Right outside the barrier, the crowd's cheers softened, replaced by fervent discussions about the boy's mistakes.
In the participants' section, Zack scribbled mental notes. That sword was too heavy for a speed-based low-ranked Greenhorn beast. Charging head-on against a faster, stronger foe was reckless. He glanced at the boy, carried out by aides, and muttered,
"I'd have baited it first."
Two of the other three fights ended similarly, with participants calling for help, their weapons or nerves failing against the Green-fanged wolf ferocity. But the fourth dome drew every eye, including Zack's. A blonde girl with twin ponytails battled a green-fanged wolf, her odachi flashing with deadly precision.
She dove sideways, rolling nimbly across the gritty floor to dodge a claw swipe, her ponytails whipping like golden banners. Springing up, she used her momentum to deliver a swift horizontal slash, severing the wolf's front leg as its paws grazed the ground. The beast whimpered, limping back to gain distance.
Both were battered. Four bloody claw marks ran from the girl's left shoulder to her lower abdomen, her face pale as parchment from blood loss, her breaths ragged.
The green-fanged wolf fared worse, its body riddled with small cuts and a deep gash across its right flank, spilling crimson that stained the arena red. Its severed leg hobbled it further.
The girl pressed her advantage. Another horizontal slash severed the wolf's remaining front leg. The beast howled in agony, helpless.
She stepped cautiously to its side, beyond the reach of its snapping jaws, raised her odachi with both hands, and brought it down with all her might, cleaving its neck in a single, bloody stroke.
The crowd erupted, their screams shaking the Awakening Center's ancient beams. Zack leaned forward, heart pounding, as the girl floated mid-air, enveloped in a golden glow like molten sunlight. Her wounds—new and old—vanished, her skin restored to pristine clarity, as if reborn. The glow lingered for a minute before seeping into her body, gently lowering her to the floor.
She opened her eyes, wild joy and pride lighting her face.
"That's how it's done,"
she said to a nearby aide, her voice carrying over the crowd's din as she strode out, odachi in hand.
The subsequent battles were a rollercoaster—joy and pride for the twenty percent who slew their low-ranked Greenhorn foes and awakened as Drifters, sadness and disappointment for the eighty percent who faltered.
Zack observed the fiercest fights, mentally cataloging errors and strategies. Dodge first, strike second. Use the dome's edges. His focus was razor-sharp, though his new friend, Anthony, tested his patience.
Anthony, a brown-haired teenager with pitch-black pupils like Zack's—a rarity that sparked their bond—chattered incessantly.
"That girl's a natural! Bet she'll hit Expert in no time,"
he said, elbowing Zack with a grin, his fingers twirling a lock of hair absentmindedly. Despite his overwhelming enthusiasm, Zack liked him; their shared knack for analyzing battles forged a quick friendship.
"Focus, Anthony,"
Zack replied, smirking.
"Save all that energy of yours for whatever low-ranked Greenhorn beast you'll be facing soon"
Time flew, and soon the sixtieth batch entered the domes. Zack watched with unwavering focus, his pulse quickening as their turn loomed.
A middle-aged man in a crisp staff suit approached, his stern face unyielding under the arena's flickering torchlight.
"Are you Zack Starshot and Anthony Britney?"
he asked calmly.
Zack glanced up from the battles. Before he could respond, Anthony jumped in.
"Yes, sir! Is it our turn to take the stage?"
His goofy grin clashed with the man's stoic demeanor.
"Yes. Follow me to select your weapons before the current batch concludes,"
the man replied, unfazed by Anthony's energy. He turned, leading the way through the crowded stands.
Zack rose swiftly, his gaze gleaming with absolute confidence. Anthony followed, grumbling,
"Why's everyone so serious around here?"
Zack chuckled under his breath, his mind sharpening for the Greenhorn fight that would define his path as a Drifter.