[12th June]
Morning arrived in the capital far quicker than anyone expected.
With it came the third day of the Tournament.
Just like the previous days, the city was already alive before sunrise. Shops hurried to close early, streets filled faster than usual, and conversations everywhere revolved around only one thing—the matches.
Even after hundreds of bouts had already taken place, the excitement had not faded.
If anything, it had grown.
The battle between Aric and the mysterious bowman numbered 19,082 was still being talked about nonstop.
Ten minutes. That was all it took to burn itself into everyone's memory.
Not even the young master of the Ashcroft family had managed to draw that level of attention yet.
That fight had shown the capital something rare.
A real clash between martial artists.
And today, people hoped—quietly, eagerly—that they might witness something like that once more.
No one ever knew when two prodigies would collide again.
That anticipation spread everywhere.
Including Rey's residence.
The maid and the butler worked in perfect coordination, already aware that Master Hosric would soon arrive to take Rey to the arena.
"You handle this," the butler said, passing the cooking duties to her. "I'll wake the young master."
As he walked toward Rey's room, a sigh escaped him.
After such a brutal battle, it was only natural to worry. Rey had returned home wrapped in bandages from head to toe.
Opening the door, the butler expected to find him still asleep.
Instead—
The bed was empty.
Rey was on the floor, palms pressed against the ground, calmly doing push-ups.
Bandages lay discarded around him, some on the table, some on the floor.
"Young master!" the butler exclaimed. "What are you doing? Why did you remove the bandages? Your wounds—"
His voice died in his throat.
Rey's body was… fine.
Perfectly fine.
No open wounds. No scars. No visible injuries.
Only faint marks remained on his chest and shoulder, barely noticeable, as if they were days away from disappearing completely.
If not for those marks, the butler might have thought someone else had taken Rey's place.
"…How…" He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
"Oh, Sir Butler, I'll get ready now," Rey said calmly, standing up. "Uncle might arrive soon."
And just like that, he walked past him.
Even after living under the same roof for so long, Rey still didn't know the maid's or butler's names.
And he didn't feel the need to.
Inside the bathroom, Rey let the warm water wash over him. There was still a faint metallic scent clinging to his skin.
While showering, he opened his status panel.
Nothing unusual.
His mana was nearly full again.
He studied his stats carefully, trying to find the reason behind his abnormal recovery. The wounds he had suffered should not have healed this quickly.
The only explanations he could reach were his unusually high vitality… or the threshold effect.
Other than those, nothing stood out.
Then his eyes paused.
The Arsenal panel.
Specifically—
The bow section.
[Bow: D- ↑ (68%)]
Rey raised an eyebrow.
The increase was significant. One single battle had pushed his proficiency that far.
A real fight. A near-death fight.
So this was the result.
He let out a small smirk.
If his spirits were watching, they would probably be mocking him right now.
After drying himself, Rey dressed normally and returned to his room.
He took out the new bow he had purchased before the tournament and strapped on his gloves, designed to protect his fingers from the strain of the string.
This recurve bow felt completely different.
Stronger. Smoother.
It could handle far more power than his previous one.
With this bow, he wouldn't have been forced into such a corner yesterday.
But that didn't matter anymore.
He had already proven himself.
Hanging the bow across his back, Rey headed downstairs.
As expected, Hosric was already there, calmly sipping from his cup.
"Oh?" Hosric said, smiling. "I thought you might consider withdrawing. Looks like your resolve is stronger than I thought."
Rey narrowed his eyes slightly.
His uncle looked… unusually cheerful.
But before he could dwell on it, he sat down.
The table was filled.
Completely filled.
Yesterday, there had barely been enough food.
Today, there was almost no empty space.
And right in front of Hosric's eyes, Rey cleared plate after plate without slowing down.
Hosric only chuckled.
A growing warrior needed fuel.
Once the meal was done, the maid quickly cleared the table on Hosric's signal.
Hosric then looked at Rey seriously.
"Do you know how worried we were during your match?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, Uncle," Rey replied honestly. "I didn't expect to face Aric either."
Hosric sighed. "You have no idea what I went through trying to explain that to your mother."
He went on to describe how Jasmine had called him again and again when she saw Rey being taken to the medical ward.
Over and over, asking about his condition.
Crying. Panicking.
Hosric had practically turned into a messenger for half an hour straight.
Only after Fenlor confirmed Rey was resting safely did the calls finally slow down.
Even then, she had called Rey before sleeping.
And again after waking up.
Every time saying the same thing.
Withdraw if you're not well.
Rey smiled faintly.
"I promised her," he said. "If I feel even slightly unsafe, I'll withdraw immediately."
That was the only reason she had agreed to let him continue.
"Don't worry," Rey added. "I don't think my luck is bad enough to face someone like Aric again so soon."
Hosric nodded.
If Rey met another monster before reaching the top two hundred, then maybe fate itself didn't want him in the University.
And yet—
As they prepared to leave, the excitement in the capital only continued to rise.
Because today…
Hope was still alive.
"So," Rey said, standing up, "shall we go? We'll be late if we keep talking."
"Before that," Hosric said, waving a hand, "take a look at these."
Three items appeared on the table.
Rey immediately recognised two of them.
A quiver, similar to his previous one, but larger and far more refined. Where the old one could hold sixty arrows at most, this one could easily carry a hundred.
And it wasn't empty.
One hundred arrows were neatly arranged inside.
Beside it lay another bundle of arrows, identical in make and quantity.
The third item caught his attention next.
An Overcoat.
Similar in design to his previous one, but made from far superior material. More flexible. More durable.
"Uncle… what's all this?" Rey asked, smiling.
Hosric waved it off.
"Nothing dramatic. Your mother and I agreed that you shouldn't fight without proper protection. That coat is made from Peak Stage 1 beast leather. It can handle most Mid Stage 1 attacks."
He continued, "Still, once you enter the University, get proper armour. Life matters more than appearances."
He then gestured at the quiver.
"And this is so you don't run out of arrows mid-battle again. One hundred here, and another hundred as backup."
Rey nodded.
Even if his mother hadn't mentioned it, his uncle would've done this anyway.
"Thank you, Uncle," Rey said sincerely. "I won't waste this."
He put on the coat.
It fit perfectly, as if tailored for him.
Black, darker than his previous one.
The hood cast his face in shadow, obscuring his eyes. Exactly what he needed.
He slung the quiver over his back.
Slightly heavier than before, but nothing he couldn't handle.
With that, they left the house.
"Is Fenlor meeting us at the stadium?" Rey asked.
"He went ahead with his friends," Hosric replied, clearly dissatisfied.
Rey quickly got into the car before Hosric could start complaining again.
They arrived at the stadium before nine.
Hosric headed toward the noble gallery and invited Rey along, but Rey declined, claiming he had something to take care of.
Hosric believed him and left.
Rey blended into the crowd on the main ground.
The second round rules were about to be explained as contestants gathered.
There were fewer people now.
Naturally so.
Half had already been eliminated.
And more would fall today.
Rey felt it.
The glances.
The caution.
The silent wariness from those around him.
Anyone who defeated Aric couldn't be normal.
Most were praying not to be matched against him.
Rey remained calm.
No one approached him.
And that suited him just fine.
At exactly 9:30, the murmurs faded.
All eyes turned upward.
The Duke of the Kingdom, Ashcroft, had taken his seat.
A single glance from him was enough to freeze the entire stadium.
Rey lowered his gaze.
That familiar, piercing sensation crawled over his body again.
Scanning him.
Judging him.
He didn't like it.
"Contestants," the Host's voice echoed, "congratulations on passing Round One."
"From this point onward, only 14,416 of you remain."
"And only 200 will stand at the end of the tournament."
He paused.
"The rules remain unchanged. No cheating. Fight with everything you have."
"Now—"
"LET THE SECOND ROUND BEGIN."