The tension in the air was palpable. The academy grounds had transformed into a massive arena, with spectators from across the region gathered in anticipation for the start of the Grand Tournament. The air was thick with excitement, but also with a strange undercurrent of unease. Ethan stood at the edge of the coliseum, his eyes scanning the vast arena before him. His pulse quickened as the realization set in—this was no longer just another fight. This was the defining moment, the proving ground where everything he had worked for, all the sacrifices, all the training, would be put to the test.
Behind him, the Ashmore twins were already gearing up for the tournament. Lilian was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her usual energetic self, while Vivian stood with her arms crossed, her expression contemplative and focused. Ethan had come to admire their bond, how their abilities seemed to flow together in perfect harmony when they fought side by side.
"Ready, Ethan?" Lilian asked, her voice filled with excitement. She had a glint of competitive spirit in her eyes, but there was something deeper in her gaze—a certain warmth, an unspoken promise of support.
"I think so," Ethan said, though his voice held a trace of uncertainty. Despite his training and all the preparation, there was still a knot in his stomach. He had faced dangerous monsters, dealt with corrupt guilds, and survived battles that would have broken anyone else. But now, here in the tournament, it felt different. This time, the stakes were higher.
Vivian, sensing his unease, gave him a soft, reassuring smile. "You've got this," she said, her voice calm and steady. "You've always been able to rise to the occasion. This is no different."
Ethan nodded, grateful for their presence. He had grown closer to the Ashmore twins than he could have ever imagined. Their bond was more than just one of convenience or training; it had become something deeper, something that transcended the physical aspects of their battles. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, and Ethan couldn't imagine facing the tournament without them by his side.
The sound of a horn echoed across the arena, signaling the official start of the tournament. The crowds roared in approval, and the competitors began to take their positions. Ethan glanced over at the other side of the arena, where his first opponent was waiting. A tall, muscular figure clad in black armor stood with an air of arrogance, his eyes scanning the crowd as though the tournament was nothing more than a mere formality. Ethan could already tell that this would be no easy fight.
"Seems like you've got a tough one," Lilian remarked, her eyes narrowing as she studied the opponent.
Ethan's gaze remained locked on the figure across the arena. The man's aura was oppressive, and his stance suggested years of combat experience. There was no doubt in Ethan's mind that this would be one of his most challenging opponents yet. But as he stood there, he reminded himself that this was exactly why he was here—to prove that he was more than just a weakling without mana. He had his own strength, his own determination. And with the support of the people around him, he could overcome anything.
"Let's do this," Ethan muttered to himself, clenching his fists as the signal for the match to begin was given.
The announcer's voice rang out, loud and clear: "The first match of the Grand Tournament begins now! Ethan, the F-rank Awakened, versus Rork, the Black Knight!"
The crowd erupted into cheers, and Ethan felt the adrenaline surge through his veins. His opponent, Rork, cracked his knuckles and took a step forward, ready to engage. Ethan's focus sharpened. He had no time to waste.
With a sudden movement, Rork charged forward, his massive sword raised high. Ethan didn't hesitate. He had studied his opponent's fighting style from a distance during the tournament's opening ceremony. Rork relied on sheer strength, using his sword as an extension of his own power. Ethan knew that if he tried to match Rork's brute force head-on, he would be crushed.
Instead, Ethan sidestepped at the last possible moment, narrowly avoiding the heavy swing of Rork's blade. The arena floor cracked under the force of the blow, sending up a cloud of dust. Ethan quickly darted in, aiming a series of quick jabs at Rork's midsection. However, his opponent was quick to retaliate, swinging his sword in a wide arc that Ethan barely managed to dodge. The wind from the blade's swing grazed his cheek, and he felt the sharp sting of its passage.
Rork growled in frustration, clearly underestimating Ethan. "Is this all you've got, little man?" he sneered. "I thought you'd put up more of a fight."
Ethan didn't respond. He had no time for taunts. He had learned long ago that words meant nothing in the heat of battle. His movements were fluid, his attacks quick and precise. He wasn't going to win by strength alone. Instead, he was going to outmaneuver his opponent and find the opening he needed.
As Rork lunged forward again, Ethan slipped behind him, using his momentum to strike at the joints in his armor. His blows were calculated, targeting the weak points. A strike to the back of Rork's knee made the Black Knight stagger, and Ethan wasted no time. He aimed for Rork's neck, landing a sharp blow that sent his opponent stumbling back.
The crowd gasped in surprise, and Ethan felt a surge of confidence. He wasn't going to let this tournament define him by his lack of mana. He was going to prove that even an F-rank could stand tall among the strongest.
Rork, now visibly frustrated, swung his sword again, but this time with more aggression. The blade came down at an angle, aiming to cleave through Ethan. But Ethan was ready. He dropped to the ground, rolling beneath the attack and coming up on Rork's other side. Before Rork could react, Ethan delivered a precise strike to the Black Knight's exposed ribs. The blow sent Rork to the ground with a heavy thud.
Rork's chest heaved as he struggled to regain his breath, his sword clattering to the ground beside him. The crowd was silent, waiting for the next move. Ethan stood over him, breathing heavily, his body sore from the previous exchanges. Despite the pain, a sense of victory washed over him. He had done it—he had taken down one of the strongest contenders in the tournament.
"You..." Rork coughed, his voice strained. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But don't think this is over. You're not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve."
Ethan didn't reply. Instead, he took a step back, allowing the announcer to declare the match over.
"And with that, the winner of the first match is Ethan, the F-rank Awakened!" The announcer's voice rang out, causing the crowd to erupt into applause.
Ethan didn't bask in the moment. He was already moving to the side of the arena, his mind focused on the next challenge. The first victory had been sweet, but it was only the beginning. He could already hear the whispers of the other participants, the excitement and fear in their voices as they realized that the F-rank was not to be underestimated.
As he walked toward the waiting area, he noticed the Ashmore twins already there, cheering for him. Lilian was practically bouncing up and down, while Vivian gave him a small but approving nod.
"You did it!" Lilian exclaimed. "I knew you'd win. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."
Vivian gave him a soft smile. "You've proven yourself, Ethan. You're ready for the next round."
Ethan smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The tournament had only just begun. And he knew that the hardest challenges were still ahead.
To be continued...