The moon's silver light bathed the Martiers Arena, casting long shadows on the sand-covered ground. Liam's heart raced with anticipation as he walked alongside the elderly butler guiding him. The old man stopped in front of a grand, ornate door, its surface etched with intricate carvings.
The butler turned to Liam and, with a respectful bow, pushed open the massive door. The hinges creaked, revealing the sprawling arena. The roar of the crowd hit Liam like a wave, the excitement palpable. The stands were filled to capacity, spectators cheering and chanting, their voices echoing under the night sky.
"This is going to be fun," Liam thought, a grin spreading across his face.
Ray's voice chimed in his mind, clear and firm. "Liam, remember—don't kill anyone. We're here to show your strength, not to slaughter the competition."
Liam's grin widened as he responded internally, "Relax, Ray. I won't kill anyone. I'll just give them a good scare." He stepped into the arena, feeling the rush of adrenaline. The thrill of the upcoming fight buzzed through him.
As he walked further, he noticed the layout: four large, elevated squares stood in the middle, each about the size of a high school playground. They were raised platforms meant for individual duels, allowing the crowd a clear view of the battles. Other participants were already standing by their designated platforms, armored and armed to the teeth. Liam, on the other hand, was barehanded and in his usual casual attire.
Ray, sensing his unease, chuckled in his mind. "Feeling underdressed, Liam?"
"It's not that," Liam replied, observing the other fighters. "Why are they all wearing armor and carrying weapons? Don't they have skills like I do?"
Ray's voice turned amused. "No, they don't. Unlike you, they aren't allowed to use skills. In this world, only otherworlders like you, or specific individuals chosen by the gods, have the authority to wield such powers. For them, your abilities will look like divine miracles—or blatant cheating."
Liam raised an eyebrow. "So, they're relying entirely on their physical strength and combat techniques?"
"Exactly," Ray confirmed. "They've trained for years to perfect their craft. You might be stronger, but don't underestimate them. One mistake could still cost you."
Liam's smirk didn't falter. "Got it. But this just makes it more interesting."
He took his place on one of the elevated squares. Across from him, the opposing team's fighter stepped forward—a tall, muscular man wielding a heavy broadsword. His armor gleamed in the torchlight, and he pointed his weapon at Liam.
"You're unarmed?" the man called out, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Are you mocking us?"
Liam merely smiled. "I don't need a weapon."
The man's eyes narrowed in anger, and the crowd grew silent, sensing the tension between the two. The elderly butler stepped to the center, his voice magically amplified as he announced, "The duel will begin now! Prepare yourselves!"
The man lunged first, swinging his broadsword with incredible force. The blade cut through the air, aimed directly at Liam's head. But before it could connect, Liam's body moved on its own—[Auto Counter] activated. He sidestepped the attack effortlessly, his hand darting out to grab the man's wrist. With a swift twist, he flipped his opponent onto the ground, the broadsword slipping from his grip and clattering to the platform.
Gasps erupted from the crowd, followed by a wave of cheers.
"Nice one," Ray commented. "But don't get too comfortable. There's more coming."
The man, groaning, pushed himself back up, glaring at Liam with a mix of shock and fury. He grabbed his sword once more, this time approaching more cautiously. He swung again, feinting to throw Liam off balance. But [Auto Counter] kicked in once more—Liam ducked under the swing and delivered a quick jab to the man's exposed side. The force of the punch sent him sprawling back across the platform.
"Damn it!" the man cursed, struggling to his feet, his movements slower now. He lunged again, desperate, but Liam easily evaded, countering with a kick to the man's stomach that knocked the wind out of him.
The opponent collapsed to his knees, clutching his midsection, unable to continue. The butler raised his hand, signaling the end of the duel. "Victory goes to Liam Hemsworth!"
The crowd erupted, chanting Liam's name, their cheers echoing into the night.
"Not bad for a warm-up," Ray said, his voice laced with approval. "But don't get cocky. The next opponent will be tougher."
Liam looked at the other fighters waiting for their turn, his grin widening. "I hope so," he thought. "This is just getting started."
The swordsman from Liam's team stepped up next, preparing for his duel. He glanced at Liam, giving a nod of acknowledgment. "You fight like a demon out there," he said with a smirk.
Liam shrugged casually. "I guess I do."
Ray's voice echoed in Liam's mind one last time before the next duel began. "Keep your guard up, Liam. They're watching you now. If they figure out your skill, this could get interesting."
Liam's smile didn't fade as he leaned back, ready to observe the next fight. "Let them try," he thought. "I've got a lot more to show."
And as the moonlight shone down, casting long shadows over the arena, the battles continued—each duel bringing them one step closer to the final challenge.