Agnes was happy. He got money without doing anything.
He did what anyone would do—he bought octopus balls.
People burst into laughter, pointing at him like he was a circus act. But Agnes? He didn't care. He munched on his octopus balls with pride, looking like a nobleman at a peasant fair.
Even the bullies, who had been busy tormenting other contestants, stopped to laugh.
One of the biggest bullies—built like a walking refrigerator—walked over to Agnes. His shadow swallowed Agnes whole.
With a voice like gravel, he said, "Hey! Mister... can I have your autograph?"
Agnes blinked. "Huh?"
Then, smiling proudly, he added, "Sure! No problem."
Before he knew it, a crowd surrounded him. Pens, scrolls, random pieces of cloth—all shoved in his face for signatures.
Agnes scribbled nonsense on everything.
"Sign please! Sign please! Sign please!"
Agnese as" Ok! Ok! but where do i sign?"
"In my ass cheeks"
Then—a bell rang.
A booming voice echoed, "All examinees to the arena! The entrance exam begins!"
Agnes gasped. "Later everyone! I need to go real quick!"
As he ran, a voice called after him, "We'll be cheering for you, Red Ugly Clown!"
Voices joined in unison,
"Yes! Give it your best! We believe in you!"
Agnes deadpanned internally.
Who the hell are these people? And why do they believe in me more than I do?
Thousands gathered in front of an enormous building, flanked by grandmasters and sect elders.
A man with the aura of a demigod—Professor Phil from the University of Three Worlds—stepped forward. His robes flapped like they had their own wind setting.
Phil roared, "My name is Phil! The first test begins now! ARE YOU READY?"
"YEEEESSS!!" the crowd screamed.
"NOOOOO!!" Agnes shouted, alone.
Phil squinted toward the voice. "Was that a 'no'? Oh well! IDGAF!."
Agnes whispered to himself, "My life is one long series of bad decisions."
Then it got weird.
People were carrying... cooking pots? Woks? Frying pans?
Phil looked like he was about to combust.
"I don't know what you people are doing with kitchenware, but let me remind you—we're not holding MasterChef auditions! This isn't Food in Dungeon or Food Wars!"
Some guy in a rice hat yelled, "So we're not cooking today?"
Phil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Line up, everyone. We're going to a concert."
Murmurs buzzed through the crowd.
"A concert?"
"Wait... for real?"
"OMG! The leaks were right!"
Phil smiled. It was not a kind smile.
"You think it's just a concert? It is. But... we're holding it inside a jungle. And it's filled with poison gas and venomous beasts. Only the last hundred standing pass."
"WHAT?!" people gasped they acted like info of Entrance Exam didn't leaked.
Agnes muttered, "Called it. You never trust a smiling adult in fantasy settings."
Inside the Jungle, glowing mushrooms lit a stage. And on that stage stood a DJ in pineapple-patterned robes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he bellowed, "WELCOME TO THE ENTRANCE EXAM PARTY! I'm DJ Pineapple!"
The jungle flashed with lights.
DJ Pineapple: "Let the party begiiiin! 1... 2... and 3... MUSIC!!"
Instantly—chaos.
As the countdown ended, a bunch of idol-looking girls entered the stage, and the music began. At that moment, thousands of venomous creatures attacked the contestants, and the room filled with poison instantly.
Agnes didn't flinch.
Agnes mumbled, "I knew something like this would happen. Time for my DIY SCBA mask to shine."
Instead of a standard oxygen tank, he pulled out a bottle filled with enchanted air-producing crystals and strapped it to his back. The mask itself looked like a rice cooker with a snorkel.
"Don't question genius," he thought.
Meanwhile, other contestants blasted Qi barriers, slaughtered monsters, and dodged poison with ease. Only five were taken out.
Everyone used Qi to resist the poison. Agnes didn't know how to do that. He felt out of place.
Suddenly, A swordsman immediately chopped surrounding trees down into kindling. Within minutes, contestants gathered around a bonfire, laughing, dancing, and—
"Are they... cooking the monsters?" Agnes gasped.
As soon as Agnes saw the fire, he pulled on his fireproof suit without hesitation.
"Gotta be careful out here, y'know what I mean?"
They pulled out spices, vegetables, and even skewers. Someone started serving soup. It was like a medieval food festival.
Agnes turned to a fellow stunned observer and said, "Did I enter the wrong exam? What happened to life-or-death exams?!"
The examiners were furious. This was supposed to be a brutal, desperate brawl. But instead, it was turning into Campfire Idol Festival.
Some living legends among the crowd also knew the exam's real purpose but stayed silent. They noticed something deeper—most of the contestants weren't here to fight.
The truth? Many of the contestants weren't normal. They were from the Beggar Sect—a rogue group known for chaos, unpredictability, and terrifying strength disguised in ridiculous behavior.
In the shadows, two legendary figures watched.
Ulam, The Saintess of Dragons, and Zenith, The Holy Light of Hell, stood side-by-side. They had fought each other countless times. Enemies by title. Frenemies by vibe.
Zenith smirked. "When do you think they'll quit?"
Ulam sipped a fruit juice. "Probably after filling up their hunger."
Then she squinted. "Hey... what's that thing?"
Zenith laughed."It's just a human. Just an ugly one—like you."
But then they noticed Agnes doing something suspicious.
Agnes knew he couldn't win in a real battle. So he resorted to his strength—pettiness and dirty tricks.
"I need to cause distraction... quietly."
As a certified hater, Agnes went and reached into his big ass backpack and pulled out pouch of crushed magic crystal dust.
"Time to dance," he said, fake-laughing as he moonwalked toward the spice pots.
"Sorry, guys. Some of you may die today... but MY BALL is at stake."
He needed to distract everyone. "Fire magic would attract attention. But...
Wait. I can use water magic."
He subtly used water magic to wet the floor. People noticed, but they did not found the source no one cared.
What can a slippery floor do, right?
Then—bam! One contestant slipped mid-spin. Then another. And another.
Even as they fell, they cheered, "Best party ever!!"
But one girl, no older than Agnes, slipped toward the bonfire.
Agnes's mouth opened, eyes widened, his hand in his head. "Shit! What is a child doing here?!"
The Beggar Sect members panicked and rushed toward her.
Agnes stood there, heart pounding.
"Did I just commit party manslaughter?"