"The Imperial Martial Tournament begins!"
As the Emperor's command echoed through the amplifiers, his words spread across the vast coliseum.
Instantly, the crowd erupted into wild cheers. The voices of tens of thousands shouting in unison—cheers, chants, cries of "Long live the Emperor!"—merged into one overwhelming roar. The Imperial Coliseum had become a sea of excitement and jubilation.
Watching the old Emperor, still commanding such respect among the people, Selene was slightly surprised. Judging by the Empire's current unity and vigor, there wasn't the faintest sign of decline.
It was hard to believe that within just ten years—by Imperial Year 1024—the Empire would be on the brink of collapse and destruction.
As the Emperor's frail voice faded, it was replaced by a booming, resonant one.
"According to the rules of the Imperial Fist Martial Tournament, the first round will be an elimination match!"
"This year's tournament has a total of 3,244 qualified participants. The format will be a point-based elimination system. Those who lose will be eliminated immediately, while the victors will earn one point and advance. The tournament will continue until only one champion remains. Remember—there are no draws in the official matches!"
"Now then, let the first match begin! The first bout will be between contestant number 251, representing the Empire's western frontier, and..."
...
In the waiting area of the Imperial Coliseum, thousands of contestants were preparing nervously, each adjusting their stance and focus, awaiting their turn to fight.
Selene, however, sat cross-legged with her eyes closed, utterly uninterested.
"What a dull place... Can't I just have them all come at once? The sooner I finish, the sooner I can go home," she muttered in irritation. But she knew it was only wishful thinking.
"Slow and steady," she sighed. "Boiling a frog in warm water—it'll all play out eventually."
Before long, the arena staff finally called her number.
"Contestant 648! Contestant 648!"
The staff member glanced between Selene and the registration sheet, his gaze lingering briefly on her scarlet, diamond-shaped pupils before confirming her identity and signaling for her to proceed.
Selene stepped onto the arena platform in long strides. The experience was entirely different from watching in the stands. From below, it had all seemed simple enough, but standing there—surrounded by the deafening roar of the audience, the intense energy of the crowd—it was hard not to feel a surge of adrenaline.
It was, in fact, Selene's first time fighting in front of such a massive audience.
Then she overheard a nearby conversation between two spectators.
"Ugh, it's just some noble lady? Damn, I'm ruined! I bet on Jey to win!"
"Hey, relax. Sure, Jey struggled last round, but I believe in him. He'll definitely keep his winning streak!"
Selene's expression froze. Really? They're looking down on me that much?
Then again, she understood why. Though her presence radiated an aura of nobility—graceful and dignified, like a snow lotus blooming upon a mountain peak—this was a martial tournament, a contest of strength, not beauty.
Her revealing battlesuit, designed with open panels and decorative armor pieces, looked more suited for display or performance than for actual combat. Combined with her flawless form and delicate skin, it hardly made her look like a warrior.
Just then, her opponent leapt onto the stage—a tall young man around twenty years old. He was broad-shouldered and well-built, with a calm, steady demeanor. The thick calluses on his hands revealed years of rigorous training.
Meanwhile, up in the imperial grandstand, the Emperor raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"General Budo, who is that girl? One of your army's participants?"
Budo, standing beside the throne in full armor, checked the roster before glancing back toward the arena. "Your Majesty, this soldier has never seen her before."
"Oh? So she's not one of the military's entrants... Judging from her bearing, she's certainly not an ordinary civilian either," the Emperor mused with interest.
After a moment of silent observation, Budo spoke again, his voice solemn. "She may not belong to the army, but that girl is not simple. I can sense a faint trace of dread when I look at her. If she doesn't meet an untimely end, her strength might one day surpass even mine."
"Oh... such high praise? Very well, let's see for ourselves." Hearing General Budo's evaluation, the Emperor, who had only been mildly curious about Selene, suddenly grew serious. In his impression, Budo was a man of strict discipline and integrity—if someone could earn his admiration, that person was far from ordinary.
...
"Begin!"
At the referee's signal, the contestant named Jey immediately lunged forward, his body bending low as he accelerated. His first move was a straight punch aimed directly at Selene's face—swift, decisive, and without any wasted motion. But...
To Selene, his speed might as well have been standing still.
She casually threw a straight punch of her own.
Crack!
"Ahhh!!!"
The sound of bones shattering echoed through the arena, followed by a heart-wrenching scream. Before the audience could even process what had happened, Selene didn't bother to move her feet. Taking advantage of the momentary stiffness caused by Jey's pain, she extended a single finger and struck directly at his throat.
With that, she clapped her hands lightly, stifled a yawn, and turned to leave the stage.
Behind her, Jey collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat as he wheezed desperately—"Hrk... hrk..." Moments later, he fell motionless to the ground.
It was only then that the spectators reacted.
Wait—what? The match was already over? In just the blink of an eye?! None of them had even seen what happened!
"That's it?!"
"My money!!!"
"This has to be rigged! Total scam!"
As the saying goes, some rejoice while others grieve.
The stands erupted in chaos. Aside from a lucky few who had bet on Selene, most wore dark, furious expressions. Though the bets weren't large this early in the tournament, a loss was still a loss—and every coin stung.
The spectators who had backed Jey were in utter disbelief. Their champion, the pride of the Imperial Fist, had fallen so easily—to a noble lady, no less?
You're supposed to be an elite of the Imperial Fist! Where's your technique? Your endurance? What happened to all those matches you've won before? Did you throw the fight for money?!
If the unconscious Jey could have heard their accusations, he would've spat blood in fury.
Keep fighting? Easy for you to say! Why don't you try it yourself?!
Only those who had faced Selene directly could truly grasp the gulf between them—it was like heaven and earth. There was no contest.
At the moment their fists collided, Jey had felt his right arm go completely numb, followed by an agony so intense it seared his nerves. And then—nothing.
The referee, dazed and unsure of what had just occurred, blinked in confusion. He hadn't even seen the decisive blow. But once the medics examined the unconscious Jey, the result was clear.
"Contestant 648—victory!"