The arena fell silent as the mechanical voice echoed once more:
"Before you begin your fight, a message. Each class in this academy consists of four students. This arena is designated for Class 1-A. As you can see from the mana-projected hologram, there are ten more classes, each requiring four members. Now… BEGIN!"
A shiver ran through the crowd as the signal blared, and the first wave of combat was set into motion.
Akio adjusted his stance, eyes narrowing, the familiar surge of Percentage Control pulsing through him.
"Five percent," he murmured, feeling the energy flow differently through his body. His muscles subtly softened, his movements fluid, lithe, faster than the eye could follow. Agility sharpened, reflexes heightened, every step light and precise.
Before him, twenty unknown students rushed in, intent on overwhelming him.
They blinked—and it was already too late.
Akio flowed through the onslaught, dodging, weaving, and delivering precise hand-to-hand combos that sent opponents sprawling without mercy. Each strike calculated, each movement effortless.
Suddenly, a lone figure broke through the group, eyes blazing.
"Die!" the student screamed, charging with reckless fury.
Akio's lips curved into a small, calm smile.
"Dismantle."
The boy's finger snapped with a sharp, almost musical crack. Shock froze the attacker mid-motion.
"Dismantle x2."
A second finger shattered, and the student collapsed, wide-eyed and broken, powerless to continue.
Akio exhaled slowly, letting the adrenaline ebb. The other students stared in awe and fear. This was just the beginning, and already, the name Akio Kazama was searing itself into the arena.
He straightened, eyes scanning the crowd. This academy… this world… it will test me. But I will not fall.