Morning light bled softly through the cracked blinds of a cramped apartment at the far edge of the Valyrian District. The place was modest at best—worn tiles that never stopped creaking, second-hand furniture picked up from street vendors, and pale walls stained with time. But despite all its flaws, it was his.
Nyx Akers stirred awake without the aid of an alarm. He didn't need one. His body had learned long ago how to wake with purpose. It always remembered—even if he sometimes wished it didn't.
At twelve years old, Nyx lived alone.
Not because he wanted to. But because life had left him no choice.
He was just a boy when the world turned cruel. His parents—once renowned adventurers—had perished during a Labyrinth raid gone horribly wrong. They were supposed to return with riches and glory. Instead, they never returned at all. For a while, there was hope—after all, his parents had left behind a fortune. Gold, gear, secured chests. Enough to raise him well.
But greed had a different plan.
His father's elder brother, the man Nyx once called uncle, took everything. "I'll take care of the boy," he'd said to the court officers. They believed him. Nyx had believed him. For a while.
Until the day he was thrown out. Barefoot, penniless, and only six years old.
From that moment on, childhood became something distant—a luxury he couldn't afford.
No soft beds, no warm meals. Only fists, silence, and survival.
He found brief shelter with relatives—a bitter aunt who scowled at his presence, and a cousin twice his size who beat him for existing. But even that didn't last long. Eventually, he landed in the Valerina Orphanage, where the staff pitied him, but the other children didn't.
They called him monster.
Whispers and snickers. Pointing fingers. The boy whose eyes sometimes glowed faintly in the dark. The boy who trained instead of playing. The boy who didn't cry.
He hated them.
Not because they were wrong—but because deep down, he was starting to believe them.
Still, Nyx didn't break.
He trained. Every day. Every night. In secret, in silence. Somewhere deep within, he could feel something pulsing—like a thread of energy that danced just beneath his skin. By the age of six, he'd managed to open his first mana circuit. No teacher. No guide. Just willpower.
Others played with wooden swords.
He swung real ones.
And when he was ten, he left the orphanage entirely. Sold off what little he had, worked a few odd jobs, and managed to claim a small, forgotten apartment at the edge of the city. It wasn't much—but it was far away from the voices that called him names. Far away from the hands that struck him for breathing too loud.
His family's home? That was long gone. His uncle had taken it. Just like he'd taken everything else.
But even in the lower districts of Elydrion, there was hope. In this empire, every child under twelve had the right to free education. Schools funded by the nobles and the imperial family provided everything—training scrolls, mana cores, even basic skills. The system gave opportunities.
But success?
That was earned.
And Nyx Akers had never been afraid of earning it.
Now, as the chill breeze of morning seeped through the cracked window, Nyx moved with quiet precision. Wash up. Throw on the patched gray uniform of Eldrion Public Awakener School. Fix the crooked collar. Run fingers through unruly black hair. His sword—worn but sharpened—was already leaning by the door.
He slung his bag over one shoulder and stepped outside.
The streets were still waking. A street vendor yawned behind a stall. Distant bells chimed near the academy gates.
But Nyx didn't look around.
He didn't have friends to wave to. No one to walk beside.
He had his blade, his circuits, and a heart that refused to be crushed.
That was enough.
For now.
Five minutes later, he sat at a corner table in a humble inn near the district center—Valerian Hands, a free meal station run by the Valerian Charity. It served hot breakfast daily to those in need. Nyx didn't eat here every day, but sometimes… the warm soup and thick bread hit differently.
The dining hall buzzed with soft chatter—students, laborers, old-timers, all starting their day.
And the television mounted in the corner.
The screen flashed red.
[BREAKING NEWS: SECOND ROUND OF THE YOUNG CHAMPIONS TOURNAMENT BEGINS UNDER HEAVY SURVEILLANCE!]
Nyx looked up, spoon halfway to his mouth.
"The much-anticipated second round of the Young Champions Tournament has officially begun," the anchor announced, her voice crisp and brisk. "Over five thousand elite young participants have gathered after qualifying in Round One."
The footage cut to sweeping views of the Combat Zone—massive floating platforms, glowing spectator rings enchanted with barrier runes, crowds already gathering in the high tiers.
"Following the tragic Erion Incident during Round One, Count Alaric Valerian has called for heightened security. In response, three Rank 7 powerhouses have been stationed to oversee the tournament."
Nyx sipped his soup, eyes fixed on the screen.
"Lord Cruntain Eisenworth, beast-tamer and uncle to Count William Eisenworth, has been placed in the west arena. Lord Dante Sagnius, a vampire-blooded war mage and brother to the infamous Blake Sagnius, monitors the northern watchtower. And watching from the skies… Rubina Valerian, Tower Master of Crimson Magic and wife of the Blade of the North. A peak Rank 7 mage. Her presence alone…"
The broadcast shifted to slow-motion footage of Rubina Valerian descending through a crimson teleport array—graceful, calm, terrifying. Crimson light shimmered across the screen like spilled blood.
Nyx stared.
So did everyone else.
A kid behind him whispered, "Man… Arthur's mom is insane."
Arthur.
Nyx lowered his spoon and set it down gently.
Arthur Valerian. The prodigy. The golden boy. He was everywhere—news broadcasts, academy posters, the front page of every major web channel. The youngest to reach the Ninth Mana Circuit since the founding emperor.At ten years old.
Nyx had reached the Ninth Circuit too. At fifteen.
Most called it impressive.
But it paled next to Arthur.
Even with years of effort, skills bought through the Valiant Charity fund, secondhand training scrolls and sleepless nights… Nyx knew. The gap wasn't just about money.
It was something else. Something raw. Something innate.
And yet… what he felt wasn't envy.
It was admiration.
Arthur Valerian was proof that perfection could be real. That you could hold power and still walk with humility. That you could shine—and still let others shine with you.
Nyx respected that.
He finished his bread, stood, and slung his bag over one shoulder.
On the TV, the camera zoomed in on the Combat Zone gates. Five thousand competitors waited beyond them.
The voiceover echoed again:
"Will a new star rise from the shadows… or will Arthur Valerian continue to shine at the top?"
Nyx didn't smile.
He didn't have to.
Because while the world looked up to Arthur—
Nyx Akers had never stopped climbing.
And today?
He wasn't just another orphan.
He was one of the five thousand.
And that was all he needed.
⸻
[Combat Zone – Official Broadcast]
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls—the second round of the Young Champions Tournament begins now!"
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena, and the crowd erupted. The colossal stadium—an ancient coliseum of stone, steel, and spellwork—shook from the roar of over a hundred thousand spectators. Flags waved, enchanted camera drones buzzed overhead, and anticipation hung thick in the air.
"With over 5,000 participants from across Northern Eldrion, this round promises fierce competition, rising stars, and feats of magic you won't believe!"
Cheers rose again like a crashing wave.
"And this time, things are different! Security has been raised to its highest level. Watching from above are three of the Empire's Rank 7 legends—Lord Cruntain Eisenworth, Lord Dante Sagnius, and the Tower Master herself, Lady Rubina Valerian!"
Gasps and applause echoed across the crowd at the mention of such names. These were not just watchers—they were deterrents. Gods in human form.
"Competitors, take your marks! You'll be grouped into teams of ten. Victory will take more than raw strength—it will demand strategy, trust, and timing."
This is Raid Mode: Defense of the Kingdom.
A floating battlefield map materialized in golden light above the stadium. Five glowing Kingdom Cores hovered in the projection—one per team, each fortified and central to survival.
"Each team must protect their Kingdom Core from wave after wave of incoming fierce beasts. If your core is destroyed—your team is eliminated. Survive all three waves, and qualify!"
A holographic simulation played: a monstrous beast slammed into a core, shattering it into shards of light. The crowd roared.
"These aren't mindless creatures. The beasts you'll face are engineered with tactical AI—some are fast, others overwhelming. Each wave will challenge your limits."
Scoring System
The announcer's voice sharpened.
"Your advancement to the next round will be based on individual performance. Scoring is as follows:"
Offense:
• Low-level enemy: +10 pts
• Mid-level enemy: +30 pts
• High-level enemy: +50 pts
• Boss/elite: +100 pts
Defense:(multiply by 1.5)
• Minor defense: +20 pts
• Key objective defended: +50 pts
• Repelling major assault: +75 pts
Teamwork:
• Assisting allies: +15 pts
• Coordinated attacks: +30 pts
Strategy:
• Clever maneuvers: +50 pts
• Side objectives completed: +40 pts
• Major threat neutralized: +100 pts
Heroics:
• Critical saves/turning points: +75–100 pts
Bonus Points:
• Leadership: +30 pts
• Quick thinking: +20 pts
• Surviving high-risk fights: +50 pts
PvP Combat:(multiply by 1.5)
• Destroying another team's core: +200pts
• Eliminating another player: +50 pts
Killing Team leader:- +100pts
Penalties:
• Failed defense: -10 to -50 pts
• Knocked out: -20 pts
• Abandoning teammates: -30 pts
Kingdom core destroyed :- all individual pts 0
Leader Penalties:
• Killing your own teammate: -30 pts
• Failure to manage your team: -10 pts
"The first two waves focus on defense—but in the final wave, the rules change. Teams will be allowed to attack one another's cores. Will you defend your ground—or strike first?"
The atmosphere turned electric.
"…And one last rule," the announcer added, voice deep and deliberate, "If your Kingdom Core is destroyed, every member of that team loses all individual points. No exceptions."
Gasps spread like wildfire.
No safety net. No clutch saves.
Lose your core—and everything goes with it.
The second round had begun.
And only the ruthless would rise.