The registration clerk was a bored-looking woman with spectacles and a permanent frown. She barely glanced up as they approached.
"Name, level, guild affiliation, and payment method," she droned.
"Krad. Level 321. Independent. And... payment?" He looked at Mist in panic.
Mist sighed and placed a heavy pouch on the desk. "I'm his sponsor. This should cover entry and basic provisions."
The clerk counted the coins with practiced efficiency, then her eyes widened slightly as she looked at Krad's level.
"Level 321? The minimum is 350."
"There's a novice exception clause," Mist said smoothly. "For fighters who show exceptional potential despite lower levels. I'm invoking it on his behalf."
The clerk's frown deepened. "That clause requires three guild master signatures or one Champion's endorsement. Do you have either?"
Mist reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed letter. The wax bore the insignia of the Tiger Squad, a roaring tiger surrounded by mist.
The clerk broke the seal, read the contents, and her expression shifted from bored to shocked.
"This is... this is signed by Commander Kashima himself. The Tiger Commander." She looked at Mist with new eyes. "And your identification confirms you're Mist, third-ranked Slayer on the continental list. You're sponsoring this boy personally?"
"I am."
The clerk's hands actually trembled slightly as she processed the paperwork. "Very well. Exception approved. Krad, independent fighter, Level 321, sponsored by Mist of Tiger Squad. You're entered in the tournament."
She handed Krad a crystal badge, red with silver veins running through it. The moment it touched his hand, it pulsed once and bonded to him.
[ Tournament Badge Equipped ]
[ Status: Active Participant ]
[ Starting Bracket: Position 32 ]
"Your first match is in two hours," the clerk said, her professionalism returning. "Arena 7. Opponent to be announced one hour before fight time. Don't be late, forfeit is automatic if you're not in the waiting area fifteen minutes before your match."
Krad clutched the badge, feeling its weight. Two hours. In two hours, his tournament journey would begin.
"Oh, and one more thing," the clerk added, almost as an afterthought. "Given your unusual entry and low level, the tournament organizers have flagged your first match as a potential spotlight bout. If you survive Round 1, expect heavy betting attention in Round 2."
"Spotlight bout?" Krad asked.
"Entertainment," Aze explained, joining them again. He'd apparently finished his own registration. "They like to put mismatched fights early to warm up the crowd. Usually means you're facing someone significantly stronger to make your inevitable loss more dramatic."
[ System Buddy: Oh, that's just great! Nothing like being setup as the opening act sacrifice! ]
They left the registration building, and Krad noticed the sun was starting to set. The Colosseum's lava-veins glowed brighter in the dimming light, and he could hear the distant roar of crowds, other matches were already underway in the smaller arenas scattered around the main Colosseum.
"We need to get you fed and rested," Mist said. "Two hours isn't much time, but it's enough for a meal and some final preparations."
They found an inn called The Fighter's Respite, clearly catering to tournament participants. The common room was packed with warriors discussing strategy, making last-minute deals, or drinking away their pre-fight nerves.
Mist secured them a private room upstairs and ordered food sent up. As they waited, Krad changed into the Crimson Blade combat set Dani had given him.
The outfit fit perfectly, adjusting to his body as if it had been made specifically for him. The black fabric was lighter than it looked, and when he moved, it moved with him like a second skin. The crimson patterns across the chest pulsed faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"You look like a real Slayer now," Queen Hania said approvingly. "Not a street urchin playing dress-up."
Krad examined himself in the mirror. She was right, the outfit transformed him. He looked dangerous... capable. Like someone who belonged in the tournament.
The golden eyes staring back at him still carried doubt, but there was something else now. Determination.
Food arrived, nothing fancy, just roasted meat, fresh bread, and vegetables. Krad ate mechanically, his mind already in the arena.
"You're overthinking," Mist observed. "I can see it. Your eyes keep going distant."
"I'm trying to prepare," Krad protested.
"You can't prepare for an opponent you haven't seen. What you can do is remember your training." Mist tapped his temple. "Everything we drilled into you, the footwork, the breathing, the fundamental strikes. That's muscle memory now. Trust it."
"But what if---"
"No what-ifs," Hania interrupted gently. "What-ifs are how you lose before the fight even begins. Focus on what you can control."
Krad's hand went to his chest, feeling the weight of those promises. To the Pure Slimes, to Hanan, to Kora and Dani... to everyone who believed in him.
"Right," he said, his voice steadying. "Just fight. Everything else is noise."
[ System Buddy: That's the spirit! You're gonna do great! Probably! Maybe! I believe in you! ]
One hour before his match, the tournament badge vibrated.
[ Match Notification ]
Fighter: Krad (Level 321)
Opponent: Brick (Level 401) ]
[ Arena: 7 ]
[ Time: 45 Minutes ]
[ Match Type: Standard Elimination ]
Mist and Hania exchanged a glance.
"Brick," Mist said slowly. "I know him. Earth magic specialist, focuses on defense and overwhelming physical power. His signature move is literally crushing opponents between stone slabs."
"He's also an asshole," Aze appeared in their doorway, apparently having tracked them down. "I fought him in a practice bout last year. He doesn't just win, he humiliates. Breaks bones that don't need breaking, draws out matches when he could end them quickly. The crowd loves him because he's brutal."
[ System Alpha: Analyzing known data on subject "Brick"... ]
[ Win Rate: 87% in official matches ]
[ Average Fight Duration: 4 minutes, 32 seconds ]
[ Known Techniques: Earth Prison, Stone Bombardment, Granite Skin, Crushing Embrace ]
[ Weaknesses: Speed-based opponents, Lightning magic, Sustained damage ]
"Four and a half minutes," Krad said. "That's how long his fights usually last."
"Against opponents who can't handle his opening pressure," Mist clarified. "If you survive the first two minutes, he tends to get frustrated and make mistakes. His defense is incredible, but his offense becomes predictable when he's angry."
"So I just need to survive two minutes against someone eighty levels higher than me who specializes in literally crushing people?" Krad laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "No problem."
"You've survived worse," Hania reminded him. "You fought the Cursed Queen and won."
"We fought the Cursed Queen," Krad corrected. "There were four of us, and we only won because Captain Mist destroyed the domain anchor."
"But you were the one who took control back from the Moon Eater," Hania pressed. "You were the one who refused to let ancient hunger consume your humanity. That took more strength than any physical technique."
Mist stood and placed both hands on Krad's shoulders, forcing eye contact.
"Listen to me. You're going to walk into that arena, and you're going to be terrified. That's normal. Everyone is terrified before their first tournament match. But here's what you do with that fear, you use it."
Krad nodded, feeling something settle in his chest. Not confidence exactly, but... readiness.
"Time to go," Mist said.
They made their way to Arena 7, one of the smaller satellite arenas surrounding the main Colosseum. Even smaller was relative, it could still hold five thousand spectators, and it was already packed.
The waiting area was a stone chamber beneath the arena. Krad could hear the muffled roar of the crowd above. Other fighters waited in similar chambers, he could feel their presence through the walls, concentrated killing intent making the air thick.
A tournament official approached, clipboard in hand.
"Krad, independent fighter?"
"That's me."
"Your match is next. When the gates open, walk to the center of the arena. Touch the crystallized combat zone marker to activate the barrier. Once the barrier is up, the match begins. It ends when one fighter is unable to continue, yields, or dies. Medical teams are standing by. Questions?"
"Yeah," Krad said, his throat dry. "If I'm about to die, do I get a warning or---"
"You'll know," the official said flatly. "Trust me, you'll know. Good luck."
He left, and Krad was alone in the stone chamber. Through the thick walls, he could hear an announcer's voice, magically amplified to reach every seat.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Our next match features a special treat! in one corner, weighing in at three hundred twenty pounds of pure crushing power, eighty-seven wins, eleven losses, the man who turns bones to powder... Brick 'The Crusher' Stonefist!"
The crowd's roar was deafening even through the stone.
"And in the other corner, in what may be the shortest match of the tournament, we have a true underdog! Level 321, sponsored by the legendary Mist himself, fighting independent with nothing but guts and golden eyes, give it up for krad!"
The response was... mixed. Some cheers, lots of laughter, and more than a few boos. Clearly, most people thought he was just entertainment, the sacrifice to make Brick look good.
[ System Buddy: Okay, so they don't believe in you! Who cares! Show them they're wrong! ]