All eyes suddenly laid upon a figure whose origin was questionable for the higher-ups. He wore distinctive clothing. The bearing of a young dragon was exuding as he stood with his eyes looking at the four kings above.
The hurdle and bustle of the rest of the participants meant nothing. Those who saw him as a cultivator from the mortal world immediately shook their heads. They didn't care about the background of the youth anymore. The youth was destined to die after the tournament as he had offended two of the four kingdoms simultaneously in less than a week.
However, though the outsiders didn't dare to utter their support openly and directly. Their eyes showed that they wholeheartedly rooting for the confident young man. Able to pummel down the first round, will he do it again? The notion, just a mere possibility that it could happen, brought them to the edge of their seat.
"Look Porealus is going up to the fifth step!" said one of the onlookers.
Though slightly panting for breath, he take a look at the other four on the fifth step that was eager to take him out. This narrow space and so many at stake, he was in a pinch.
"Grandson..." Carius muttered as his gaze slightly turned mellow.
Tael leered at his best friend but he refrain to say a word. He smiled as he too looked at his own grandson.
The sword-wielding red hair. He was currently at the fourth step. Though he was the youngest of them all, there was no question in his ability with the sword.
His curved sword was already drawn as he faced four others on the step. His blade didn't show any discouragement as the invisible tip could pierce the firmament itself.
"You think that you are capable with that little toy?" asked the cultivator from the same step before he lounged forward.
"This is boring," muttered Zet.
"What?!" The man opened his eyes wide before Zet cut his arm with one step forward.
There was no fancy movement, he was just taking a step forward. The swing of the blade was unseen but the churning blood from the man was. The cultivator didn't even scream as his eyes rolled up before falling off the step.
*Thud!
The other three gasped in horror before taking a step back. It was wondrous to see for the experts but horror for the participants on the same step as him. They had turned wary. The unimaginable speed couldn't be comprehended by the naked eyes but they still won in number. Though the tournament was individual, there was no rule banning working together.
"Huh? Where is she?" asked one of the onlookers.
"Who?"
"You know, the Ice Beauty from the Mortal World."
"Hmm?? Hey, you're right, can't see her anywhere."
While the audience was looking for the beauty, a cold scent ran across Folcre's nose who was at the eighth step often. His eyes opened wide before he turned around. Taking a careful glance but he found no one. He was still alone in the eighth step.
Folcre shook his head, "Must have been my imagination, there is no way that she could surpass me here."
"But then again," he muttered. He turned his glance toward the four kings above. "?!"
(Impossible!) thought Folcre as his eyes opened wide.
"Hah, hah, hah..."
A panting was heard as the figure was reflected on Folcre's eyes.
She was a beautiful woman with cold as her bearing, however, she didn't act like she was at all. The immense pressure had surpassed what Folcre had as the latter mentioned. "The ninth step."
The onlookers started to notice the woman on the ninth step. She was the closest one of the four kings, however, she was panting really hard. The immense pressure was apparent as she couldn't even be bothered by the gawking looks of the crowd.
Her eyes laid upon the four kings who all were astonished by her sheer tenacity. A mortal bearing such mountain-like pressure.
"Hmm..." the king of the Sverine Kingdom rubbed his chin. "She is strong indeed, unlike the last time."
"I must say, she is toe to toe with your son now," said the Bolg King as he leered on the Golden Dragon King.
The Golden Dragon received his remark with a snort. He crossed his arms, "It won't matter that much if she couldn't stay until the end, like last time."
The crowd turned wild.
"She is on the ninth step!"
"That's the same as Prince Rupert!"
"Damn! She is coming with revenge!"
The crowd knew the story behind what happened to Ivy in the last tournament where the competition was fierce.
"Ivy..." the matriarch of the Yuki Clan muttered as she tightened her lips behind the thick veil.
(I will not be humiliated again!) thought the cold woman as she took a glance against one of the princes in the crowd. (Raul!) she furrowed her eyebrows.
Raul caught her glare as he crossed his arms. He let out a smirk as he looked at the woman struggling on the ninth step.
'Mortal shouldn't enter the top ten!'
His voice rang in her mind as the memory of the last tournament surged.
---
She was struggling at the seventh step then. There were eleven of them and only needed one more elimination before she could have the prestige status. However, all of them were turning against her because of her origin. She was fighting a desperate fight and stood toe to toe against the others, until a figure from the eighth step, step down.
The figure was Raul, he was smirking as he saw Ivy who was hanging on a thread. Fighting Raul was overkill for her then.
"I-I need to win... please," muttered Ivy as her desperate attempt.
"Hahaha! Please? Hahaha!" Raul laughed "Mortal shouldn't enter the top ten!"
He lashed out a kick before knocking her over the step.
The woman saw the firmament as she looked at the clouds. Her hard work was tarnished by a single kick. (I was so close... mother). She closed her eyes as the last mortal participant couldn't make it.
---