The tournament grounds of the Saint Morrow Sect weren't just large—they were absurd. It was said you could drop a mid-sized city into the arena and still have enough room left over to set up a market and a sect-approved spicy dumpling stall. Not that Arin noticed.
He was busy dying inside.
The roars of thousands echoed around him as his feet scraped the elevated platform at the center of the coliseum. Tall pines encircled the arena, enchanted so they'd never shed leaves no matter how much Qi got flung around. The judges floated in the sky, each on a cloud shaped like a different animal for absolutely no reason.
Huin Thorne stood across from him.
Hair tied back. Sword unsheathed. Eyes like he already considered this fight done. He didn't say anything, didn't need to. His cultivation robe fluttered in the wind with enough arrogance to qualify as a sentient being.
Arin took a deep breath.
"System," he muttered, "you better not screw me over."
[Active System Prompt: ☠️ Welcome to the Tournament ☠️]
[Objective: Survive. Bonus: Win.]
[Warning: You are fighting a sword prodigy. Estimated Damage Intake: Unpleasant x 999]
[Penalty if you lose in under 30 seconds: Title Unlocked — Banana Cut Baka]
"Wait, what?"
[Yes. You read that right.]
[Banana Cut Baka: Permanently reduces Charm (Female Only) by -80% and increases hostility from males by +50%.]
"…okay, I need to last at least 31 seconds."
He cracked his neck. Across the platform, Huin raised his sword in a slow, elegant motion.
"Arin Valkar. I heard you like pain?"
"Only if you're not charging me for it."
The referee—a ghostly elder wearing sunglasses and chewing on an immortal herb like a toothpick—raised his hand. "Begin."
Time slowed.
Huin vanished. No, not vanished—moved so fast he might as well have.
Arin's instincts screamed.
He leaned back.
A thin silver arc sliced through the air where his throat had been.
[Damage Taken: 17 HP — Superficial Cut]
[Bone-Iron Constitution: Passive Triggered — +2 XP]
"Oh, we're doing this now!"
Arin dropped low, rolled sideways, and did the only thing his training had prepared him for.
He headbutted Huin's shin.
"Wha—?"
CRACK.
[Critical Hit to Own Skull: +4 XP]
[Bone Memory Layer I — Minor Recall Engaged: Remembered Optimal Positioning for Self-Inflicted Skull Trauma.]
"I am evolving," Arin whispered, wobbling.
Huin, more annoyed than hurt, swung again.
Arin ducked. Slipped. Got grazed. Rolled into it.
[Minor Slash Across Back — +6 XP]
He popped up, blood trickling down his spine, and grinned. "You call that a hit? My laundry hits harder."
Huin's eye twitched. "You lunatic."
Twenty-three seconds.
The crowd was in chaos.
Sect disciples watching Arin thought he'd die in five seconds. The betting markets had locked him in as a guaranteed knockout.
But here he was, staggering, bleeding, laughing.
Mira Soeyri sat in the shaded observation box, lips twitching in something between a smirk and a grimace. Her notebook was open, quill scribbling frantically.
"Subject resists standard logic. Again."
[XP: 1124 / 5000]
"Thirty seconds!" cried the referee.
[Penalty Avoided — Congratulations. You may keep your Banana.]
"You can't take my fruit away from me!" Arin yelled, dodging another sword slash.
[Damage Taken: Rib Bruised — +9 XP]
[Bone Memory Layer I: Passive Pain Data Stored.]
Huin growled. "You're mocking the sacred tournament!"
"No, I'm mocking you."
He ducked, kicked the ground, and flung dirt.
Huin blocked it with his aura.
Then Arin launched himself forward—fist first.
And missed.
[Self-Elbowed Nose: +2 XP]
[Masochist's Focus Triggered — Clarity During Self-Harm: +5% Reflex Boost (Temporary)]
He used that clarity to step into a clean body slam as Huin spun with a retaliatory strike.
[XP: 1205 / 5000]
The match continued.
Arin fell.
Got up.
Got thrown.
Got up.
Spit out a tooth.
Got up.
The crowd didn't know if this was the dumbest match ever or a masterclass in psychological warfare.
Even the elders were whispering.
"Is he cultivating a pain-based martial path?"
"I thought that was banned."
"No, just deeply stupid."
"But effective?"
"No idea."
[45 Minutes Later]
[XP: 2240 / 5000]
Huin was sweating.
Arin had broken fingers. One eye closed. Limping.
But still grinning.
"You're insane."
"You're slow."
Arin faked a fall, caught Huin's leg, and twisted.
[Joint Stress Fracture: +15 XP]
Huin screamed and kicked him away.
Arin rolled.
Got up.
And blew a kiss.
[Passive Trait Unlocked: Emotional Provocation — +10% chance to enrage enemies when smirking after injury.]
By the end, Huin's sword was trembling in his hands.
Arin's body was… barely functioning.
The crowd was on its feet.
"WINNER: HUIN THORNE," declared the referee.
[XP Awarded: +100 (Participation Bonus)]
[XP: 2340 / 5000]
[Mission Complete: Survive Tournament Round 1]
[System Bonus: New Trait Pending...]
That night.
Arin lay on a hospital mat made of rocks for some reason. He moaned, coughed up blood, and grinned.
"I think I'm falling in love… with pain."
Mira stood outside his room, watching.
"He shouldn't have survived," she murmured.
Behind her, the shadow of a robed man loomed. "Should we eliminate him?"
"No." Mira closed her notebook. "We observe. Until he breaks the world… or it breaks him."
The System chimed:
[New Passive Trait: Pain Conversion Efficiency I — 5% more XP per injury.]
[New Mission Incoming: Survive Round 2 — Opponent: Yui of the Drifting Blades.]
"Oh, come on!" Arin groaned.