The fight for the second group ended, and group after group took the stage.Some matches were short, resolved in a flurry of movement and techniques, while others dragged on longer, some bloody and fierce,yet the crowd never wavered — their cheers and applause cascading through the sanctuary like waves.The sun slowly dipped toward the horizon, painting the marble and crystal of the Grand Sanctuary of Greatness in golden hues, signaling the end of the first round.Finally, the last group of sixteen participants, the final sixteen out of the original 256, ascended the stage.They moved with confidence, standing before their opponents on one of the eight battlefields.Among them, Iren Booker smirked with a predatory edge, his eyes scanning for weakness.In another field, Antonov Gallado stood poised, his aura calm and disciplined.And across yet another battlefield, Elanor Bal held herself like a poised statue of grace and lethal potential.A hush fell across the sanctuary — a tense si

Those who were focused on the battlefield between Lukan Maser and Iguana had their mouths agape — silent, frozen, and utterly unable to comprehend what had just unfolded.The echoes of Iguana’s screams still resounded through the Grand Sanctuary, high-pitched and raw, scraping against the silence that followed the clash.His voice tore through the tension like a knife, and for a brief moment, the air itself seemed to tremble.All across the stands, the expressions were the same — widened eyes, clenched jaws, disbelief.Even those who had been mid-cheer found their voices dying in their throats. It was as if the entire audience had been slapped by something invisible.Two of the guards stationed near each of the eight battlefields immediately rushed toward the scene, their armor clattering against the floor.The moment the protective barrier surrounding Lukan’s battlefield shimmered and dissipated, they darted inside, surrounding the fallen Iguana, whose body convulsed in agony.He scr

The bells that resonated everywhere signifying midnight continued to echo through the vast dome of the Grand Sanctuary of Greatness.Their deep, metallic hum rolled like thunder across the night, reverberating through the marble walls and crystal arches, stirring the hearts of all present.One after another, the remaining 128 participants emerged from their resting quarters within the sanctuary—each figure cloaked in focus, determination, and a faint shimmer of aura.The waiting area once again buzzed with life, filled with low murmurs and the subtle pulse of mana.The enormous enchanted panels above flickered to life,first displaying the names of the competitors for the second round then shifted to the battlefieds.Without wasting time, the first sixteen participants—the first group of the second round—stepped forward toward their respective arenas.Boots struck the tiled floor in rhythm, echoing beneath the grand arches as the crowd stirred.Among this group was Lukan Maser, his cal

Lukan arrived at the waiting area after a match he hadn’t even lifted a finger in—a perfunctory Victory.Yet—Oasis’s gaze was on Lukan from the moment Lukan left the Battlefield till he enter the waiting area, and Lukan felt it like a faint pressure at the back of his neck.The waiting chamber was a study in contrasts.Lantern light spilled across polished floor, throwing long shadows that trembled with the faint ripples of energy.A low murmur threaded through the space: amusement at Keyf’s humiliating exit, sharp commentary about the battles still raging below, and the nervous breathing of those who would soon step into the battlefield.A few disciples leaned against the carved balustrade, eyes glued to the glass panels flickering overhead, while others paced like caged beasts.The air tasted of metal and incense, and every footstep sounded unnaturally loud beneath the hum of a thousand expectant hearts.Oasis’s gaze remained fixed.It was not crude or rude; it held the clinical sti

Now everyone present was forced to their feet. For a few breathless heartbeats, the sanctuary held a silence so heavy it pressed on the chest—every other clash stilled as if the world itself had paused. The sound of the barrier shuttering and the reverberation of Oasis’s magic had rolled through the vast hall like a cannon blast; its echo braided through every corridor and gallery until even distant duels seemed to lose their voice. The only sound that cut the hush now was the soft, certain rhythm of Oasis’s footsteps as he walked back toward the waiting area. Each step was a deliberate punctuation, the soles of his boots whispering over polished stone while a thousand eyes followed him. Even the guards who stood by the battlefield— veterans who had seen steel sever bone and spirit tested—stood slack-jawed, their grips loosening on the talisman which they are now on the tips of their fingers. Their usual iron composure had been stripped away by what they’d just witn