Dangerous Decision

After a long, weary journey, Tony finally returned to his humble abode. He carefully creaked open the weathered wooden door and stepped into their modest dwelling. Inside, there were no modern luxuries to be found—no television set, no fan to alleviate the oppressive heat, not even an electric bulb. Only the soft, flickering glow of a solitary candle illuminated their meager existence, bearing testament to their profound poverty.

Upon his arrival, a joyful voice pierced the silence. "Brother, you're back!" exclaimed a little girl, throwing her arms around Tony in an eager hug. "How are you, Lilian?" he warmly replied, returning the embrace. She couldn't contain her excitement and asked, "Did you bring any food?" Tony grinned and handed her one of the bags he had brought. "Why don't you see for yourself?" he teased. Lilian eagerly opened the bag to find an abundance of sustenance, and Tony surprised her with a rare treat—a chocolate bar he had managed to afford with his last bit of spare change.

Lilian, her eyes lighting up like a hungry lion who had just spotted its prey, asked, "How did you manage to afford all of this today?" Tony, masking the truth, replied with a smile, "I just worked a little harder, that's all." He didn't want to reveal that he had sold his phone to provide for their meager feast.

Concerned about their mother's worsening condition, Tony inquired about her whereabouts. Lilian's face fell as she replied, "She's in her room, and her sickness is growing more severe by the hour." With a heavy heart, Tony hurried to his mother's bedside, finding her shrouded in a thick blanket. The room was enveloped in darkness, with only a feeble candle's glow for illumination.

"Mum," he whispered, his voice trembling as he caressed her hand, attempting to rouse her from her slumber. Weakly, she acknowledged his presence, her once-beautiful face now marked by suffering and destitution. In her youth, she had been a dancer, but circumstances had united her with Tony's late father, Wilcox.

Tony couldn't hold back his concern. Her hands felt as cold as if she had just emerged from a refrigerator, a stark reminder of her heart condition that was slowly consuming her. He urgently needed to get her to the hospital, knowing that the medicine he had brought was only a temporary relief for her ailment.

With a forced smile, he produced a small tin of medicine from his pocket and offered it to her. "Thanks," she murmured weakly, her eyes filled with concern. "How was school and work today?" Tony lied again, sparing her the painful truth of his school bullies and expulsion, fearing it would worsen her condition. "I brought some food, Mum. You can join Lilian in the living room for dinner," he suggested as he helped her to her feet.

An hour later, Tony sat outside his home, lost in thought. His gaze fixed on the moon and stars above, as if seeking answers in the silent night.

Tyker was an unforgiving place to live, where those fortunate enough to have a mage in the family could escape poverty's clutches. However, Tony was different. He possessed the gift to free his family from the grip of poverty, but it remained elusive, like a tortoise hiding in its shell.

As his sister's words echoed in his mind, he contemplated their dire circumstances. The government seemed indifferent to their suffering, despite claiming democracy, which often felt more like tyranny. Yet, Tony clung to a glimmer of hope—the upcoming tournament with its ten-thousand-Dars prize. It was a beacon of opportunity that could change their lives forever.

The presidential building stood tall and majestic, its architecture a testament to Tyker's affluence. Crafted from the finest materials available, it pierced the sky with its skyscraper design, casting an imposing shadow over the city. Within its opulent walls resided the Danny family.

Seated around a lavishly set dining table were Flash, Charlotte, and a formidable-looking man. A delectable array of dishes adorned the table, offering a diverse selection of meats, fruits, and vegetables. Mr. Danny, the President of Central Tyker, turned his penetrating gaze toward Flash and made a surprising announcement.

"Flash, I want you to join the tournament I'm hosting," he declared.

Flash, taken aback, questioned, "Me? But isn't the tournament meant for less fortunate mages?"

"I want to gauge your progress, Flash. I'm disappointed you haven't reached Charlotte's level," Mr. Danny replied, his words stoking an envious flame within Flash.

"But Dad, we're both grade B mages," Flash protested.

"You may both be grade B, but Charlotte is at level six, while you're still at level five," Mr. Danny retorted firmly. "And that's final. The tournament is just two weeks away; you need to prepare."

Flash could only lower his head in frustration. His father's favoritism toward Charlotte, who shared his affinity for lightning magic, was evident. Flash's mother, Hannah, had tragically passed away during childbirth, leaving him and Charlotte as twins.

Mr. Danny was a formidable grade S mage, one of the few in Tyker. His strength and power commanded respect and fear, even among other presidents. Tyker itself was a hidden eighth continent on Earth, concealed by powerful magic. It comprised seven sectors: Central Tyker, Northern Tyker, Eastern Tyker, Western Tyker, Southern Tyker, Humble Land, and the perilous Outside Zone inhabited by monstrous creatures.

Each sector had its own president, and all of them were encircled by protective walls to keep the Outside Zone's dangers at bay.

As the night gave way to morning, Tony remained in his room, engrossed in books borrowed from the Mage Academy. He had spent the entire night uncovering secrets and techniques to unlock his dormant talent. Tony flipped through the pages with unwavering focus, determined to make a breakthrough.

Suddenly, a gentle knock at his door interrupted his concentration. It was Lilian, his younger sister, who had an early-rising habit and had come to wake him for school. To her surprise, Tony was already awake and absorbed in his studies.

"Big brother?" Lilian asked with amazement, her innocent curiosity shining through. She was known for her early mornings, and Tony had decided she could help him kickstart his day.

"What, surprised to see me up?" Tony responded with a smile.

"Yeah, are you studying for a test or something?" Lilian inquired, noticing his intense focus on the book.

"Okay, then I'll check on you when breakfast is ready," she said before leaving the room. Tony continued to immerse himself in his studies, gathering valuable information about the upcoming tournament, which was now just two days away. With registration closing today, he knew he had to hurry if he wanted to participate.

The tournament mansion stood as a colossal testament to the world of professional mage battles. Within its walls, the Arena, training gym, medical facilities, and production control room bustled with activity. Tony, a young mage with dreams of competing, entered the mansion, his heart racing with anticipation.

Dressed in a crisp blue top and black jeans, Tony's curly hair was meticulously groomed. The grandeur of the hall overwhelmed him, leaving him disoriented, but he soon spotted a woman who appeared to be a staff member.

"Excuse me, miss," Tony approached her.

"Yes, sir, how can I assist you?" she inquired politely.

"I'm a bit lost. Can you direct me to the registration room?" he asked.

With a warm smile, she guided him, "Certainly, just continue forward a bit and take the second door on your left."

"Thank you," Tony followed her directions and found himself in a room filled with aspiring mages, all waiting to register. They eyed him curiously, noting his slight frame and apparent lack of physical prowess.

After a considerable wait, it was finally Tony's turn to register. The official conducting the registration eyed him skeptically.

"You're here for the tournament as well?" the official asked, surprised.

"Yes, I am," Tony replied, trying to exude confidence.

"You don't quite look like a mage. Are you sure you'll survive in there? The competition can be fierce," the official remarked, eliciting laughter from the other mages.

Tony stood his ground, saying, "Don't judge me by my appearance, sir. I'm more qualified for this tournament than you might think."

"Very well. What's your name, Talent, grade, and level?" the official inquired.

"I'm Tony Wilcox, an air mage, grade B, level five," Tony replied, his heart pounding. He had lied about his abilities, being a grade D at level zero.

"Alright, it's your life. An air Talent can be powerful if used correctly. Good luck," the official complimented, and Tony nodded before exiting.

Leaving the mansion, Tony felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. He had registered for the tournament, but he knew he was the weakest mage there. The odds were stacked against him, and he questioned his decision.

Presidential mansion, a grand chamber had been transformed into Flash's training ground. Within its marbled confines, the talented mage was undergoing a grueling regimen, sweat cascading down his furrowed brow as he pushed himself to the limits in his quest to master the art of controlling fire.

"Again!" barked his private coach, a stern and demanding figure, wholly unsatisfied with Flash's efforts thus far.

Frustration swelled within Flash like a tempest as he struggled to harness the volatile element. He bellowed, "Fire fist, explosion!" unleashing a tempestuous blaze that lashed out, striking a stoic metal statue. The flames danced wildly, yet his coach's expression remained unmoved, unimpressed by the dazzling display of power.

"That's still not good enough, Flash. You must do better," the coach admonished, his voice echoing through the vast chamber.

"I've run out of enatra!" Flash protested, exhaustion creeping into his voice, using the term mages employed to describe their depleting energy source.

"That's no excuse. You're only making feeble excuses," the coach retorted sternly, his eyes piercing through Flash.

In a surge of frustration and pent-up energy, Flash challenged his coach with defiance, his voice seething, "Why don't I test my skills on you?"

The coach, unshaken by Flash's outburst, replied with calm authority, "You should learn some manners."

With anger coursing through his veins like molten lava, Flash's impulsiveness overcame him, and he demanded a duel. The coach reluctantly agreed, their gazes locked in a tense standoff. When Flash unleashed his fiery attack, the coach effortlessly extinguished it with a flick of his hand. Flash watched in awe and humility as the coach exhibited his formidable grade A fire mage skills.

"Explosion!" The coach roared, unleashing a cataclysmic blast of flames that engulfed a nearby metal figure, reducing it to molten slag within seconds. Flash, realizing the vast chasm that separated their abilities, could only watch in horror.

Suddenly, an unexpected presence disrupted the intense atmosphere. Charlotte, Flash's twin sister, gracefully descended from above, her arrival unannounced but not unexpected to her family.

"How long have you been there?" Flash asked, surprise lacing his voice.

"The whole time," Charlotte replied, her tone carrying an air of superiority as she added insult to injury, "Nice skills, but you'll have to do better if you want to reach level six like me."

With a condescending toss, she hurled a snack at Flash, hitting him squarely in the face, adding to his mounting frustration. Their twin bond, it seemed, was often marred by their clashing personalities and sibling rivalry.

Two days swiftly slipped through Tony's fingers like grains of sand, leading up to the long-awaited day of the tournament's arrival. In secret, Tony had registered for the event, keeping it hidden from his own family, fearing their disapproval. As he stepped into the bustling tournament hall, the air was thick with anticipation, and it crackled with the vibrant energy of mages donning extravagant and colorful costumes. Tony, on the other hand, chose to go shirtless, his bare torso revealing the visible anxiety etched into his expression. Doubts about his decision writhed within him, gnawing at his resolve. How could a grade D mage with no skills possibly compete against the likes of grade B mages?

The moment of truth approached with a disheartening swiftness. Tony's name echoed through the hall, announced by the commentator's voice, and his heart raced like a horse galloping toward an uncertain finish line. But as the commentator uttered the name of his opponent, a chilling realization gripped Tony's soul like a vice: Flash Danny, the son of the tournament's host.

"Oh no," Tony gasped, his voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd.

Among the spectators, his classmates wore expressions of shock and confusion, their whispers cutting through the air like sharpened daggers.

"When did Tony become a grade D?"

"Does he have a death wish?"

Stepping into the arena, Tony was met with a cacophony of mocking laughter that seemed to reverberate through his very bones. Flash, already present in the arena, towered over him with an aura of disdain.

"The battle may now commence," the commentator's voice boomed, "but remember, this isn't a death match; win by submission!"

Flash couldn't resist taunting Tony, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What were you thinking, Tiny? Has poverty made you lose your mind?"

Tony, his pride stung, retorted defiantly, "It's none of your business, Flash. I'm here to pay my mom's hospital bills."

Flash, feeling insulted by Tony's mere presence in the arena, welcomed the opportunity to defeat his seemingly helpless opponent. Tony, driven by desperation and an unwavering determination to ease his family's suffering, launched a feeble punch, but it was as if he was trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. Flash easily evaded it, his movements fluid and effortless. With a cruel precision, he pressed on Tony's already-burnt wound, inflicting more pain.

"The air mage strikes first," the commentator noted, his words echoing Tony's inner turmoil.

With a scowl etched onto his face, Flash retaliated with a powerful uppercut that sent Tony sprawling to the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers for Flash, their admiration for his skill evident in their thunderous applause. However, among the sea of faces, there was one exception—Charlotte. She watched the spectacle unfold with a mixture of sympathy and understanding, realizing that poverty had driven Tony to this point, and she couldn't help but feel compassion for his struggle.

"Come on, get up!" Flash taunted, a wicked grin on his face, standing tall over Tony, who struggled to regain his footing. Tony, determined not to back down, mustered every ounce of his remaining strength and launched another punch at Flash, but it was feeble, like a desperate last stand.

Flash, as if he were toying with a ragdoll, effortlessly seized Tony by the collar of his tattered uniform and slammed him back to the unforgiving ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, their enthusiasm matched only by the commentator's vivid description of the one-sided brawl unfolding before their eyes.

"The battle seems heavily one-sided," the commentator remarked with a mix of awe and concern in his voice, as Tony's resilience failed to match the power and precision of Flash's blows. Tony, his face a mess of bruises and cuts, cried out in agony, yet his spirit refused to yield.

But Flash showed no mercy; he was relentless. As Tony mustered every ounce of courage for another feeble punch, Flash swiftly countered, his strikes landing like thunderclaps. Bruised and battered, Tony cried out once more, but it seemed as if his defiance were futile.

"The battle is over! Tony Wilcox appears to be down for the count. Master Flash can stop his assault as we move to the next round," the commentator declared, his words painting a grim picture of Tony's predicament.

Ignoring the commentator's call to end the fight, Flash continued to beat Tony mercilessly, his fists a blur of fury. In the audience, Charlotte, Tony's loyal friend, couldn't bear to watch any longer. She finally couldn't hold back her anguish.

"That's enough, Flash!" she yelled, her voice piercing through the cacophony of the crowd, drawing everyone's attention.

Flash, momentarily distracted, turned to Charlotte with a smirk, his eyes filled with disdain. "I won't leave you without another burn mark," he threatened, his words dripping with malice, before he launched a devastating fire attack at Tony.

As the flames raced toward him, Tony felt the searing heat and thought, "So this is it? This is how it all ends. Unfair and biased, but at least I'll be free from this cruel world. But my family... it can't be." His consciousness wavered, the world around him dimming as he went black, his inner thoughts consumed by the unknown realm he had just entered.

[Host found…Imperial System Awakening]

[System Loading…Loading complete]

[Good day Tony Wilcox]