The arena had changed.

  Gone was the dusty field that Mark remembered from the previous rehearsal.

  In its place stood four immense gray stone platforms, floating at different heights. They swayed slowly, in a continuous, silent dance, as if propelled by an unseen force.

  From above, in the area reserved for the jury, the professors watched with attentive gazes. Around the platforms, magic circles were lit to create protective barriers separating the battlefield from the stands.

  A bell rang three times.

  Deep. Solemn.

  Then the speaker's voice rang through the air, clear as a carving in marble:

  "Group 1, East Platform. Participants number 27: Mark. Number 26: Liam.

  Group 2, North platform. Participants number 20: Aaron. Number 16: Simon.

  Group 3..."

  Mark barely turned around, catching Aaron's familiar glance.

  "Good thing we're not in the same round!" joked his friend, with a smile that tried to mask the tension.

  Mark barely smiled, then his face immediately turned serious.

  "Aaron...we have to win."

  "You don't even have to say it!" he replied, clenching his fist.

  "See you on the podium."

  "See you on the podium," Mark repeated, just as firmly.

  They shook hands firmly, as if exchanging some of the courage they both knew would be needed.

  For Mark, Aaron was the first real friendship. And for Aaron, it was the same.

  Having him by his side made everything less heavy.

  Liam was already on the East Platform. He was a wizard, lacking in uniqueness, but with a good affinity for wind magic.

  The two faced each other in silence.

  "Let the first meetings begin!" announced Professor Draker.

  [Warning: activation of all skills.]

  Mark took a long breath.

  He closed his eyes.

  And emptied his mind.

  A second later, he moved.

  Liam raised his arms, summoning sharp blades of air and unsteady whirlwinds, but Mark was already a step ahead.

  He dodged each attack naturally, as if he could read his opponent's thoughts.

  In a flash he was behind him.

  A single blow.

  Dry. Precise.

  Liam fell to the ground unconscious.

  Forty-five seconds.

  The fastest duel of the day.

  "Round 1, winner: participant number 27!" announced the speaker.

  Mark immediately leaned over Liam, lifted him by weight and carried him toward the infirmary, without waiting for the field healers to intervene.

  "I lost...and now I'm even getting help from the people who defeated me..." muttered Liam, his voice trembling. "How pathetic I am."

  "Not so," Mark replied, shaking his head.

  "Every failure is a step toward success. Without failure ... success would be meaningless."

  Then she looked him straight in the eye.

  "You still have time. Time to become what you want to be."

  Her words hung in the air.

  Liam listened to them in silence, but when he turned to enter the infirmary, his eyes had changed light.

  They now shone with something that wasn't there before: determination.

  The next few hours passed quickly.

  Mark continued to fight.

  One after another, his opponents fell. No one could keep up with him. No one could hurt him.

  Each fight was a call.

  A dull echo that rose from his bones and brought him back in time.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Mark relived, in those moments, the long and relentless workouts with his grandfather.

  His hands were punctured by calluses and hardened like leather.

  The body, covered with cuts and bruises, looked more like that of a warrior who had lived through a thousand battles.

  Muscles torn and rebuilt, bones shattered and healed, day after day, with never a real break.

  Pain was constant. Rest a rare luxury.

  But his grandfather had never stopped. And Mark could not afford it.

  Though a legend, Mark wanted at all costs to become the Hero who would save the coalition.

  And then ... grandfather disappeared.

  Just like that, out of the blue.

  And with him, those tough but meaningful trainings were gone, too.

  Since then, Mark had continued on his own, with squats, squats, improvised weights--anything that could keep that body tempered with so much sacrifice alive.

  He could not afford to lose everything he had built.

  Every drop of sweat. Every wound. Every day he had wanted to give up, but hadn't.

  That was the real reason why now, on that floating platform, his blows were so precise.

  Why his body moved without hesitation.

  Why his heart did not tremble.

  -Break-

  Finally the voice announced.

  “Group 1, South Platform, participant number 27 Mark and number 28 Elija.”

  [Notice. mission detected: Defeat the strongest

  Rewards:

  - Level increase

  - 5 more characteristic points]

  Aaron had won all his fights, finishing first in his round.

  “Mark, while you were fighting I watched Elija, you have to be careful. I don't know why he was put in your round but he is a level 13, he is very brutal his blade has no hesitation.” he said resting his hand on Mark's shoulder.

  “Thank you Aaron, I will be careful,” replied Mark smiling but his eyes were fixed on his opponent and so was Elija.

  The two contenders positioned themselves on the field, ready to destroy any sort of ambition of the other.

  As Mark walked through the corridors to head to the combat platform he was stopped by Brak.

  “Kid, you have to give it your all,” he said as if he cared about Mark.

  “Your potential is beyond all limits and imagination, give it 100 percent,” he continued

  “Thank you,” replied Mark.

  He had never seen that man in his life. But this thought was swept away as soon as he stepped into the arena.

  “Let the last duel begin!” said Professor Draker.

  At the sound of the professor's voice, time slowed almost to a standstill.

  [Warning. Skill Ultra focus activated].

  Mark clutched the handle of the sword and went on the attack.

  Both blades created sparks with each contact, Elija's strike was stronger and faster.

  Mark could not move forward, barely able to parry and dodge those damn powerful blows.

  Suddenly something in Mark's head clicked.

  [Warning. Skill Ultra focus increased in level].

  “Let the last duel begin!” thundered Professor Draker's voice.

  In that instant, time seemed to slow down.

  The air became thick, the screams of the spectators muffled, as if the whole world was holding its breath.

  [Warning. Skill “Ultra Focus” activated].

  Mark clutched the handle of the sword.

  His pupils dilated, his breathing slowed, his heartbeat became the only rhythm in the background.

  Then he threw himself.

  The blades clashed. Sparks exploded with each blow.

  Elija was relentless: her slashes were swift, ruthless, as precise as the blows of an experienced executioner.

  Each attack carried with it the will to destroy.

  Mark would parry.

  He dodged.

  But he would not advance.

  Every time he tried to counterattack, Elija was already there, with another lethal volley.

  Mark's arms trembled under the force of the impacts.

  His knees were beginning to buckle.

  “You are so inept!” Elija shouted to weaken him even more.

  Mark could not respond; if he uttered even a word, he would have been hit.

  Then, something changed.

  [Notice. Skill “Ultra Focus” went up a level → Level 9].

  Suddenly, Mark saw.

  He saw the movements before they even happened.

  He anticipated every shot.

  Every snap. Every feint.

  Deflection.

  Rotation.

  Lunging.

  Elija began to lose her composure.

  “How--how do you bloody loser!”

  Mark disappeared from his field of vision in the blink of an eye, reappearing behind him and striking him in the side with a force that sent him flying away.

  The audience held its breath.

  Elija staggered back to his feet, but his eyes were those of a wounded beast.

  “Now I'm tired of playing!”

  Her fury exploded.

  His oneness was activated.

  His body became covered with a dim light.

  His veins swelled.

  His pupils tightened even more.

  Now he was faster.

  Stronger.

  More resilient.

  The counterattack was immediate.

  Mark tried to defend himself, but the next blow struck him squarely in the forehead.

  Crack.

  A trickle of blood trickled down his temple.

  His vision blurred.

  Every fiber in his body told him to fall.

  To surrender.

  Elija struck mercilessly.

  One. Two. Three times.

  “How is it to feel worse than nothing! answer loser!”

  Mark was about to lose consciousness when...

  ... a voice.

  “You can feel as worthless as you want, but your destiny is to become the greatest protector of the coalition.

  You have fought a thousand times against me and always stood up even at times when no one else could.

  Awaken your potential.

  You write your own destiny!”

  His grandfather's voice.

  A light exploded from within him.

  Red. Violent. Uncontainable.

  [Warning.]

  [Uniqueness unlocked: Aberration of Perseverance]

  [Uniqueness unlocked: Ardor]

  [Skill “Berserker” learned]

  [All skills leveled up].

  Mark stood up again.

  His wounds still open, but his gaze fiery.

  A crimson aura enveloped him, and every step he took made the platforms vibrate.

  The stands exploded.

  The cameras all pointed at him.

  Aaron stood up in disbelief.

  “He just unlocked a Oneness.... He's a monster!”

  Mark ignored the messages from the system.

  He ignored the pain.

  He wanted only one thing: to win.

  With a single movement he eliminated the distance that had been created between him and Elija.

  With each step he took, the ground was destroyed as if a ten-thousand-ton boulder was being dragged furiously.

  Mark, without a sword, continued the assault with his bare hands.

  His fists were so fast that Elija could barely follow them.

  For every blow he parried, three went in.

  Until he collapsed to the ground, exhausted.

  One last punch was directed toward Elija's jaw-dropping face.

  At that instant, Professor Draker launched himself from the jury area.

  He interposed himself between Mark's fist and his opponent's face, stopping the blow with one hand.

  At the impact, the arena shield trembled.

  Then the professor's glove.

  And shortly thereafter the entire sleeve of his uniform were completely destroyed....

  “I'd say that's enough,” said the professor, with a stern but fair face.

  “Participant number 27 wins the last duel!” announced the voice from the speakers.

  The arena, along with the entire Coalition, erupted in a roar of shouts and applause.

  Mark, now bereft of strength, collapsed to the ground unconscious.

  Elija had gotten it in his pants.

  The curators immediately intervened, taking him and Elija to the infirmary.

  Professor Draker, before walking away, noticed something.

  During the impact he had not noticed it, but-he had been moved.

  By a few inches, but it had happened.

  High up in the panel, the dean was standing.

  His hands were shaking.

  His eyes shone with a yellow light.

  And with a full smile, he exclaimed:

  “Finally ... he has arrived!”

  [Notice. Mission completed]

  [System:

  Name Mark lv 4 Apprentice

  Life: 175 hp

  mana: none

  Fatigue: none

  Uniqueness:

  - Aberration of Perseverance (Usage unknown)

  - Ardor (allows the user to ignite his or her soul, increasing each statistic for every second it remains active)

  Skill

  - Agile Sword Technique lv 2 (His sword skill)

  - Consciousness Base lv 5 (Thinks logically, ignores emotions, passive)

  - Thick skin base lv 8 (Reduces damage and pain received)

  - Perfect balance base lv 6 (Increases the subject's balance)

  - Ultra focus base lv 10 (Increases concentration, speed and thinking and accuracy)

  - Berserker Base lv 1 (Subject enters a state of chaos that allows for increased damage)

  Character points: 15

  - Strength: 14

  - Dexterity: 14

  - Sense: 9

  - Stamina: 17

  - Intelligence: 6