Chapter 481: Preliminary Tournament

Chapter 481: Preliminary Tournament

"Make way, make way! If you’re not signing up, don’t block the line!"

"Maintain order! Line up to register!"

"You’re joining the preliminaries too? Damn, aren’t you a life-skill player?"

"Hmph, just playing the fool before revealing my true strength. This time, I have no choice but to show my real identity."

"Just for the experience. Who knows, maybe I’ll get matched with a bigshot. If I get to fight Autumn Rain, hehe, even if I get burned to death, it’ll be worth it!"

"Come on, don’t overdo it."

"I just want to be matched with Langchu and settle the score."

In front of the registration site in Isthalia, a sea of people bustled with excitement. Tens of thousands of players lined up in an enormous queue.

The preliminary tournament registration was in full swing. The entry fee wasn’t expensive—only fifty silver dinars and 100 experience points, making it affordable even for new players.

Currently, "Erezaghe" had 400,000 players, and 100,000 had enthusiastically joined this event, bringing the Empire a massive revenue of 50,000 gold dinars and a million experience points.

"These Starfallers are insane."

"No kidding."

"Since they don’t die permanently, let them fight it out. We’ll just enjoy the show."

"I heard this time, there are Dragonblood Nobles participating."

"Oh? Then I must watch! Let’s see what these lunatics are capable of!"

"Hahaha! I wonder if they’ll be entertaining enough for us!"

In the "Blood and Fire" tavern beside the Isthalia Arena, a group of burly men watched the distant queue, raising their mugs in revelry.

They were all gladiator enthusiasts of the Empire.

The Empire had released a large number of tickets for both the preliminaries and elimination rounds, allowing even non-players to partake in the grand event.

Isthalia’s Grand Arena had long hosted gladiatorial matches, and over the years, it had built a dedicated audience.

Gladiators were mostly trained war captives and death row convicts. They fought in the arena with shields and short swords or battled fierce beasts like lions and bears to entertain the spectators.

For the Empire’s citizens, gladiator matches were considered a "noble" form of entertainment. Since the end of the Northern Unification War, many gladiators were once Northern nobles and officers.

Watching those once-arrogant nobles struggle for survival was a pleasure for many former low-born citizens of the old North.

Some even bought participation rights, signing death contracts to become so-called "free gladiators."

Now, the grand gladiatorial tournament’s tickets were being snapped up by the Empire’s gladiator fans, with prices soaring to astronomical levels.

People were well aware of the strength of the Starfallers and were eager to see their various combat techniques.

The preliminaries weren’t held at the Isthalia Grand Arena but across 154 standard arenas throughout the Ember Empire, lasting for seven days.

A thousand players who passed the preliminaries would enter the final elimination round, showcasing their skills in the Isthalia Grand Arena—an opportunity many players dreamed of.

Among the crowded queue, a player nearing the registration desk trembled with excitement.

"From six in the morning until now... Finally, it’s my turn."

The player’s in-game name was [Floating Chaos of War], a Warrior specializing in the Champion Berserker branch. He had also taken Dragon Vein Potions, though in low concentration.

Floating Chaos of War wasn’t a beta tester nor a member of any prestigious guild.

Yet, through sheer grinding, eating all his meals inside the game pod, and completing dozens of quests daily, he had forcibly maxed out at level 8 for this patch.

His dream was to make a name for himself in the tournament, catch the attention of a major guild, and become a professional player.

Have you seen the Giant’s Maw Gorge at 2 AM? Have you seen the Misty Hills at 4 AM?

Floating Chaos of War had seen them all! He had ground quests in every one of those places!

He lowered his head, covering his eyes, his entire body trembling:

"Hahaha! Countless trials and battles, finally, my time to shine has come! Bring it on, all you top players—"

"Damn, you’re such a try-hard."

An impatient voice interrupted, cutting his emotional monologue short.

"Hurry up, don’t block the way."

"Yeah, there are thousands of people waiting behind you. You holding up the line or what?"

"Bro, have you been reading too many novels?"

"Oh."

Floating Chaos of War dropped his hands from his face, adjusted his emotions, and dejectedly stepped forward.

"I want to register for the preliminaries."

He handed over fifty silver dinars and tapped "Agree to submit 100 XP" on his game interface.

The Empire’s snakeman receptionist, as always, gave a warm smile, quickly counted the coins, and retrieved a bronze token from the counter.

"Alright, here’s your tournament pass. Keep it safe."

"Contestant #22054, proceed to Arena One in the southwestern outskirts of Isthalia."

Floating Chaos of War accepted the bronze token as if it were a treasure, all prior irritation vanishing, replaced with excitement.

"Arena One!"

"22054, 22054... The more I say it, the better it sounds! I really am the chosen one!"

"Move it."

"You’ve registered already, why are you still standing around?"

More impatient voices from behind urged him forward.

This time, Floating Chaos of War didn’t argue. He turned and left, a determined glint flashing in his eyes.

Hmph, you’re all witnessing the birth of a legend!

Thirty years east, thirty years west—never underestimate the poor youth!

I’ve endured hardships beyond ordinary comprehension, shed countless drops of sweat and effort.

And my legend, Floating Chaos of War’s journey as a professional, begins here—with this preliminary match!

On the way to the tournament venue, a few familiar players approached.

"Damn, isn’t that the Grinding Emperor?"

"Knew he’d be here!"

"Floating Chaos of War! The same guy who grinded for three days straight and ended up in the hospital!"

Hearing their "praise," Floating Chaos of War kept his expression serious, maintaining the image of an aloof master.

But he couldn’t help but say, "Oh? You guys are joining the tournament too? Maybe we’ll get to fight later."

If they were his opponents, he might not have to exert much effort to qualify.

Floating Chaos of War thought to himself.

The players shook their heads, and the one with the ID [AAA Construction King] said, "We’re newbies from the Empire era, not as hardcore as you. We’re just here to watch."

Floating Chaos of War was curious. "Then why go to the tournament site?"

Construction King laughed, "To spectate! There are some star players in Arena One today!"

"Wait..."

His voice paused, his tone turning subtle.

"Chaos, you’re competing today, aren’t you?"

"Yeah."

Floating Chaos of War nodded, then said firmly, "No matter who the opponent is, I’ll face them head-on."

"Ah, well, best of luck then."

Construction King scratched his head, watching Floating Chaos of War walk away with a confident stride, a hint of pity in his eyes.

Watching Floating Chaos of War walk away, a nearby player whispered, "King, do you think he’ll qualify?"

"With his level of grinding, there are barely a handful of players in the entire server who can match him. Even though he started late, he should at least make it to the elimination round, right?"

"Yeah, that’s why he’s called the Grinding Emperor. Last time I saw him, he was stuck in the Ancient Ruins. That hellhole, and he stayed there for a month."

"Floating Chaos of War may be a bit of a try-hard, but his raw strength is undeniable."

"Yeah, Champion Berserker is a solid Warrior subclass."

The players murmured among themselves.

But Construction King shook his head regretfully and said with certainty, "He won’t make it."

"Huh?"

"Why?"

"Not even the Grinding Emperor can qualify? That’s ridiculous."

Construction King looked toward the Grand Arena in the distance, his expression heavy. "Floating Chaos of War isn’t weak, but what’s waiting for him ahead is hell."

A promotional flyer for the preliminaries fluttered down from the air, its print still clear.

"Imperial Glory, Battle of the Titans! Arena One, officially open!"

"Today’s star players: Iron Frenzy, Mighty Dragonlord, I’m Going to Eat a Mantou."

Arena One was a circular amphitheater made up of three tiers of archways. Its outer walls stood thirty meters high, capable of holding tens of thousands, exuding a grand atmosphere.

It was built as a smaller replica of the Isthalia Grand Arena.

At this moment, the venue was packed. Every seat was filled, players cheered loudly, and even many native citizens of the Empire were shouting in excitement.

The bells tolled continuously, and dazzling fireworks bloomed above the stadium.

"Flesh is weak, machine ascends!"

"Go, Frenzy! For Omnissiah!"

"Mighty Dragonlord! The pride of Monk players, smash them all!"

"Will you win, Bun? You will! You have to! No first-round eliminations this time!"

Even though it was just the preliminaries, the energy was electric. With so many star players participating today, ticket prices had skyrocketed to three times the original cost.

"So this is a real tournament? So many people!"

"And this... this is where my undefeated legend begins! The start of my professional career!"

Gazing at the roaring crowd, Floating Chaos of War felt his heart surge. He swore silently, "One day, they’ll all be chanting my name, cheering for me!"

He took a deep breath and began applying enhancement oils—"Sharpening Oil," "Precision Oil"—to his longsword.

This rare-quality [Frostbite Sword] could inflict minor cold damage, making it a top-tier weapon for non-wealthy players.

Floating Chaos of War had found it in a noble’s tomb, slaying countless undead before retrieving it from a coffin.

He glanced at his wrist, where his [Mist Bracelet] lay. It could cast the Tier-2 spell [Phantom Step]—a powerful piece of Warrior gear.

He had spent a month working as a slave laborer in a northern orc tribe just to find the chance to steal it from a careless overseer.

On his back was the [Featherflight Bow], which he had obtained after hunting down several Anzeta Giant Eagles.

"All of this—earned through hardship, step by step!"

"It’s time to show the world the true power of a Warrior!"

As a Champion Berserker, he had honed his raw physical ability to its peak, enabling him to unleash devastating combo strikes with "Flowing Assault."

Combined with the cold damage from [Frostbite Sword] and the mobility from [Mist Bracelet], he believed no one could stop him.

His strategy was simple: use Phantom Step to close the distance, then unleash continuous heavy strikes to end the fight quickly.

The simpler the tactic, the more effective it was.

Using this very method, he had once sliced through a Northern mage like a blade through butter.

As he recalled his past battles in "Erezaghe", his confidence swelled, and he slowly closed his eyes.

"Contestant #22054, Floating Chaos of War."

"Who’s that?"

"I think I remember that name... isn’t he the guy who grinded himself into the hospital?"

"Hahaha, now that you mention it, I remember too."

The announcer’s voice echoed through the stadium, and murmurs spread among the audience.

"Finally, my turn?"

Floating Chaos of War slowly opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing within them.

Finally, his moment had arrived. Soon, all the mockery and doubt would be crushed beneath the weight of his undeniable strength.

Suddenly, a wave of deafening cheers erupted throughout the arena.

"He’s here!"

"Holy crap, so cool!"

Floating Chaos of War blinked in confusion before slightly furrowing his brows.

Are they cheering for me?

No... I haven’t even fought yet. My reputation isn’t that widespread.

So...

They’re cheering for my opponent?

Could my opponent be some famous professional player?

Good. Then I’ll make them my first stepping stone, the perfect start to my professional career! I’ll show these fame-seekers what true strength looks like!

Floating Chaos of War smirked coldly and turned toward the arena, eager to see the opponent he would soon defeat.

The next moment, his jaw dropped.

"Oh, for fu—"

"Contestant #00003, Iron Frenzy!"

Instantly, the entire arena exploded into chaos. The crowd roared, especially the devoted followers of the Machine Cult, their faces flushed with excitement.

"Frenzy!"

"Flesh is weak, machine ascends!"

"Ring the great bell three times! Sing in praise of the Omnissiah!"

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

The ground of the arena trembled slightly as dust swirled into the air.

A towering, intimidating humanoid mech stood firm, its metallic frame gleaming under the sun, casting a massive shadow.

Its left arm housed a dazzling Omega Energy Lightning Cannon, while its right arm carried a forcefield shield as impenetrable as a fortress wall.

"Hahahaha!"

"In the name of the sacred binary—this year’s champion belongs to the Machine Cult!"

Inside the transparent cockpit, the half-dragon, half-human Iron Frenzy waved to the crowd, flashing a wild grin.

With a pull of the controls, the mech’s rear vents spewed out thick smoke, releasing a thunderous roar.

Meanwhile, Floating Chaos of War remained frozen in place, his mouth still agape.

A long moment passed before he snapped back to reality, his expression turning to despair.

"Crash!"

Every strategy, stamina plan, and opponent analysis shattered like glass.

That towering Omega Energy mech reeked of wealth and technology—an entirely different playing field from his own.

Floating Chaos of War let out a wretched wail. "What the hell am I supposed to do against that?!"