The massive steel gates of the arena ground open revealing the blinding sunlight and the deafening roar of one hundred thousand screaming fans.

Glen stepped out onto the white sand of the Colosseum floor. The sheer scale of the stadium was breathtaking. Massive holographic screens floated in the sky broadcasting the faces of the competitors to the world. Drones zipped through the air recording every angle of the battlefield.

He was placed in Sector Four along with ninety nine other rookies. Isla had been assigned to Sector Two on the opposite side of the stadium. They would not have to fight each other today.

Glen walked to the center of his designated zone. The other ninety nine rookies spread out forming loose alliances and eyeing their competition. They were mostly C Class and B Class hunters. They wore expensive enchanted armor and carried weapons forged by master alchemists.

Glen stood out like a sore thumb. He wore a simple black combat jacket and carried two plain silver swords. But what truly made him a target was the massive holographic display above his head projecting his registered class for the entire stadium to see.

Glen Mcdonald. F Rank Mimic.

The murmurs started immediately.

"A Mimic? How did he even qualify?" a heavily armored C Class Tank muttered gripping a massive tower shield.

"Probably bought a fake ticket on the black market" a B Class Wind Mage laughed spinning a glowing green staff. "Look at him. He does not even have a guild sponsor logo on his jacket. He is free points."

In a battle royale the strategy was simple. Eliminate the weakest targets first to thin the herd and secure your spot in the top ten. Within seconds nearly thirty rookies in Sector Four turned their attention entirely toward Glen. They formed a loose circle around him drawing their weapons and channeling their mana.

Up in the VIP suite Evander Buchanan leaned against the glass window swirling the water in his crystal glass.

"Look at that" the Astra Guild manager laughed pointing down at Sector Four. "The F Rank idiot is about to get swarmed. He will not last ten seconds. I told you he was just arrogant trash Evander."

Evander did not laugh. His amber eyes were locked onto Glen. "Watch closely" Evander whispered.

Down in the arena a loud mechanical horn echoed through the stadium.

"Qualifiers Begin" the announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.

The thirty rookies charged at Glen simultaneously. It was a chaotic wave of flashing swords flying elemental spells and heavy shields. They wanted to crush him instantly and move on to the real threats.

Glen did not draw his swords. He did not activate Lightning Movement. He did not even drop into a fighting stance.

He just stood there and activated Obsidian Skin.

A dark translucent layer of volcanic glass washed over his skin hardening his flesh to the density of a diamond. Because he was Level 15 the C Rank defensive skill was amplified by his massive vitality stat.

The first rookie to reach him was the C Class Tank. The massive boy swung his heavy steel shield aiming a brutal shield bash directly at Glen’s face.

Glen did not dodge. He simply raised his bare right hand and caught the edge of the charging shield.

A loud metallic clang echoed across the sand. The Tank’s forward momentum stopped instantly as if he had crashed into a solid mountain. The heavy steel shield dented around Glen’s fingers.

The Tank’s eyes widened in absolute horror. "What?"

Glen smiled. He squeezed his fingers crushing the edge of the steel shield like tin foil. Then he pulled the shield forward ripping it out of the Tank’s grip and delivered a casual open handed slap to the boy’s chest.

The sheer physical force of Glen’s Level 15 strength sent the heavily armored Tank flying backward through the air. He crashed into three other charging rookies knocking them all unconscious in a tangle of limbs and dented armor.

The crowd in the stadium went completely silent.

The remaining rookies froze their weapons raised but their confidence shattered. An F Rank Mimic had just swatted a C Class Tank away like a fly without even casting a spell.

"Is that it?" Glen asked rolling his shoulders. "I thought you guys wanted free points."

A B Class Wind Mage panicked. "Kill him. Hit him with everything."

A barrage of spells rained down on Glen. Wind blades fireballs and jagged earth spikes slammed into his body exploding in a massive cloud of smoke and sand. The rookies poured their mana into the attack desperate to eliminate the anomaly.

The smoke slowly cleared.

Glen was still standing in the exact same spot. His black jacket was slightly singed but the dark translucent Obsidian Skin covering his body did not have a single scratch on it. He brushed a speck of ash from his shoulder and sighed.

"My turn" Glen whispered.

He did not use his A Rank or B Rank skills. He did not want to reveal his full hand to the S Class watching from the VIP box. He just used his raw physical speed.

Glen blurred forward. He moved like a ghost weaving through the panicked rookies. He did not use his swords. He used his fists his elbows and his knees.

He punched a swordsman in the stomach folding him in half. He swept the legs of a spearman sending him crashing into the sand. He grabbed the B Class Wind Mage by the collar of his expensive robes and tossed him thirty feet across the arena into the boundary wall.

It was not a fight. It was a one sided massacre.

Glen moved with brutal surgical precision. Every strike was calculated to knock his opponent unconscious without killing them. He danced through the chaos a dark blur of violence dismantling the arrogant academy elites one by one.

Within three minutes the dust settled.

Out of the one hundred rookies in Sector Four ninety lay groaning or unconscious on the white sand. The remaining nine survivors had retreated to the far edges of the arena pressing their backs against the boundary walls absolutely terrified to make a move.

Glen stood alone in the center of the sector. He was not breathing heavily. He did not have a single scratch on him. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

The stadium was dead silent. One hundred thousand people stared in absolute disbelief at the holographic scoreboard.

Sector Four Survivors: 10.

First Place: Glen Mcdonald. F Rank Mimic.

Up in the VIP suite the Astra Guild manager dropped his crystal glass. It shattered on the floor spilling water across the expensive rug. "That is impossible" the manager stammered his face pale. "That is physically impossible."

Evander Buchanan stared down through the glass his amber eyes glowing with a fierce intense light. A slow predatory smile spread across the S Class Dragon Knight’s face.

"I told you to watch closely" Evander whispered. "He is not a Mimic. My instict tells me he is a monster. And I cannot wait to break him."

Down in the arena Glen looked up. He found the luxury VIP suite suspended in the sky. He locked eyes with Evander through the reinforced glass and offered the S Class champion a slow mocking two finger salute.

The qualifiers were over. The real tournament was about to begin.