The 400 survivors stood in the hall, a mixture of exhaustion and pure elation on their faces. They had already outperformed thousands. Joining the Academy meant more than just prestige; it was the only guaranteed path to the Higher Realms. While Great Houses like the Kellen family had their own Dharma Stage ancestors who could force an ascension, those "private" ascendants often arrived in Realm-2 with no status—mere refugees.
But an Academy ascendant? They were different. They were scouted by Phoenix University, the powerhouse of Realm-2 that oversaw the four regional academies of Realm-1. To graduate from here was to enter the higher world with a legitimate backing.
Professor Noah released a sharp spike of aura, instantly silencing the excited chatter.
"Listen up!" Noah barked. "The final test will determine your rank and your future. Helpers are distributing your Mana Bracelets now. These are artifacts of Phoenix University. Inject your mana, and it will serve as your ID, your room key, your class schedule, and your communication device. It can even project holograms if you feed it enough energy."
Noah's eyes swept the room. "In Realm-2, these are common commodities. Here, they are restricted technology. If I catch any of you trying to sell one on the black market... well, you won't live to regret it."
A helper approached Ryan, handing over a sleek, metallic band. "Good luck, sir," the man whispered, a desperate glint in his eyes. "I've placed a heavy bet on you."
Ryan watched the man walk away. A helper, he thought coldly. Nothing more than a failed cultivator who couldn't evolve to the Silver Stage. Trapped in the Bronze Stage forever, reduced to manual labor for the chance to breathe the Academy's dense air.
David stepped up beside him, checking his own glowing display. "Sir, I'm Number 44. I'm in the first round."
Ryan offered a thin, sharp smile. "Crush him."
"Hell yeah," David grinned, his hand resting on his blade. "I'll make sure everyone knows whose man I am. No one touches my Lord's shadow."
"Do whatever you want," Ryan chuckled.
Two hours later, they stood in the Grand Arena. A massive central ring was surrounded by ten auxiliary platforms. Noah stood at the center, flanked by ten Early-Phase Gold Stage cultivators who would serve as referees.
"I am Noah Remson, your Martial Arts Professor!" he bellowed. "For these duels, the rules are simple: THERE ARE NO RULES. Fight until exhaustion. Use your weapons, your poisons, your hidden tricks. If you lose because your opponent has a higher-grade sword, that is your problem for being poor or unprepared. The only thing I will not tolerate is killing. Everything else is fair game."
Noah's laugh echoed through the stadium. "Check your bracelets for your ring assignments. Survive, and you might actually become something!"
"This motherfucker," a voice muttered nearby. "I swear, I'm going to fuck his mother."
Ryan and David turned to see a boy—Lucas—glaring at Noah with pure, unadulterated spite. They both looked at him with a mixture of confusion and pity.
Lucas blinked, noticing their stares. "What? what is so weird...
"You know Noah is at least fifty-five," David said slowly. "Mathematically, his mother would be... what? Eighty? Eighty-five?"
Lucas's face turned a violent shade of red. "STOP! You bastard, I didn't mean it literally! You want to die, fucker?"
David bristled, his hand dropping to his hilt. "What did you say? Let's go right now, you loud-mouthed brat!"
"Both of you, stop," Ryan commanded, his voice like a sheet of ice.
Lucas looked at Ryan, sensing the heavy, calm aura he had maintained during the first test. His anger vanished, replaced by a sheepish, lopsided grin. "You're Ryan, right? The one who stood till the end. Nice to meet you. Honestly, you should keep your distance from these kinds of dumb-idiots," he said, gesturing toward David.
David looked ready to explode. "You motherfucker! A death duel! Right now!"
Ryan placed a firm hand on David's shoulder. The weight of it immediately quelled David's rage. "He is David, my brother," Ryan said evenly. "And yes, I am Ryan."
Lucas let out a nervous laugh and shook Ryan's hand. "No offense meant, then. Just a bit of pre-fight nerves."
Suddenly, the massive holographic screen above the arena flickered to life.
[ RING 1: #10 VS #44 ] [ RING 2: #12 VS #53 ] .... etc.
"That's me," David said, his eyes turning cold and focused. He looked at Ring 1, then back to Ryan. "Watch me, sir."
The first matches of the West Wing Academy had officially begun.