[Instructor's Gallery]

Evelyn Whitehound stared at the replay on her tablet, her usual composure gone.

"He didn't dodge. He didn't block. He… manipulated the manifestation point of the secondary strike? And then severed William's mana flow? That requires… predictive capability and mana control far beyond…".

Alastor Greythorn threw his head back and laughed, a booming sound that filled the gallery.

"THAT'S MY BRAT! HAHAHA! Not just power, not just tricks! Pure, unpredictable, beautiful combat instinct! He turned William's ultimate weapon against him!"

His pride was boundless.

Herald Crimson, watching from his private box, simply smiled, his ancient eyes twinkling. The balance shifts.

[The Arena Floor]

I stood on the platform, the chaotic noise washing over me.

My vision swam slightly. The pain in my shoulder was fading, but the exhaustion was immense.

I had pushed my limits, used unstable power, gambled everything… and won.

============

[System Notification: Tournament Victory!]

[Main Quest Complete: The Crucible of Champions.]

[Rewards Claimed:]

[+1 Trait Selection Card]

[+150,000 SP]

[Title Acquired: 'First Year Monarch']

[Item Acquired: Epic Weapon Selection Ticket]

=============

The wave of notifications was almost overwhelming. I closed my eyes for just a second, steadying myself.

When I opened them again, Jian Kloss was on the dais, microphone in hand, struggling to be heard over the roaring crowd.

"UNBELIEVABLE! SIMPLY UNBELIEVABLE! Michael Wilson, the top seed, the commoner king, has DEFEATED Eric William! He is your FIRST-YEAR CHAMPION!"

The roar intensified, shaking the very foundations of the Colosseum. Commoners cheered wildly. Nobles sat in stunned, resentful silence.

My friends – Leon (looking complexly thoughtful), Aiden (ecstatic), Maria (a rare, genuine smile), Aurelia (impressed), Chris (relieved), Selena and Elara (applauding politely) – were all watching me.

I raised my head, meeting the gaze of the fifty thousand, the millions beyond. I didn't smile triumphantly. I didn't boast. I simply stood, letting the weight of the victory, the weight of their attention, settle onto my shoulders.

The final stage was over. But the real game, the game for survival and influence in this ruthless Academy, had only just begun. And I had just dealt the first, decisive blow.

The digitized voice declaring my victory echoed in the sudden, vast silence of the Grand Colosseum.

Then, the silence shattered.

It wasn't a unified roar like before. It was a chaotic explosion – fifty thousand voices erupting at once in a disbelieving, ecstatic, furious wave.

Commoners in the upper stands were on their feet, screaming my name, throwing cheap hats and celebratory streamers into the air.

Nobles in the lower sections sat stunned, faces pale or flushed with outrage, their polite applause replaced by sharp, angry whispers.

"Impossible!"

"He cheated! That spatial trick—it's forbidden!"

"A William… defeated by a commoner?!"

"MICHAEL! MICHAEL! MONARCH!"

The chant rose again, stronger this time, fueled by the sheer shock of the upset.

On the platform opposite, Eric William was being attended to by Academy medical staff. They helped him sit up, his eyes slowly focusing, a hand pressed to his jaw where my pommel strike had landed.

He looked dazed, confused, the icy focus from moments ago completely gone.

When his gaze finally found me across the arena, it wasn't filled with rage, not yet. It was filled with pure, unadulterated disbelief, as if he couldn't comprehend how the world had allowed this outcome.

______________________________________

[William Estate – Viewing Chamber]

Denish William slammed his fist down onto the reinforced armrest of his viewing chair.

The crystal surface didn't crack, but the thud resonated with cold fury. "Unacceptable," he breathed, his voice dangerously low.

Somiya gasped, covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes – not for Eric's loss, but for the humiliation he, and by extension, the family, now faced.

Gideon Chronic stood impassively behind them, but his old eyes held a flicker of something complex – surprise, calculation, and perhaps, a sliver of concern for the storm Eric's defeat would unleash.

_________________________________

[Lionheart Estate – Grand Hall]

Arnab Lionheart watched the replay of my final move, his usual stoicism replaced by a deep frown.

"Spatial manipulation… unrefined, yes, but effective beyond measure. He didn't just defeat William; he bypassed his entire strategy."

He looked thoughtful, a grudging respect warring with political calculation.

This commoner… he is becoming a force that can no longer be ignored or easily controlled.

__________________________________________

[Instructor's Gallery]

Evelyn Whitehound was leaning forward, rapidly dictating notes into her crystal slate.

"Spatial disruption confirmed. Not a standard affinity technique. Possibly artifact-related or a unique, undocumented Trait manifestation. Requires further investigation."

Her analytical mind was captivated, the political implications secondary to the scientific anomaly I represented.

Alastor Greythorn, however, was roaring with laughter, slapping his knee.

"HAHAHA! DID YOU SEE IT?...that Pommel strike! Knocked the pretty boy out cold with the handle! That's the kind of ruthless pragmatism you can't teach! That's pure instinct!" His pride was a tangible force in the gallery.

Jian Kloss, the commentator, finally found his voice, struggling to be heard over the din.

"MICHAEL WILSON! Against all odds, against the heir of the mighty William family, this commoner prodigy has claimed the title! The first non-noble First-Year Champion in Academy history!"

The crowd roared again, the significance of the moment hitting them. History had been made.

I stood there, letting the noise wash over me.

My body screamed with exhaustion. The adrenaline dump left me feeling shaky, my injured shoulder throbbing insistently. But amidst the chaos, a quiet sense of satisfaction settled in my chest. I had done it. Not just won, but won my way.

===============================

[System Notification: Claim Rewards?]

[Main Quest Complete: The Crucible of Champions.]

[Rewards:]

[+1 Trait Selection Card]

[+150,000 SP]

[Title Acquired: 'First Year Monarch']

[Item Acquired: Epic Weapon Selection Ticket]

===============================

"Claim," I thought, the mental command barely a whisper in the storm of noise. The wave of SP flooded my reserves, pushing the number higher than ever.

The title settled onto my status screen, a symbol of my new, precarious position. And the two cards – Trait and Weapon – appeared in my system inventory, glowing faintly.

[SP: 379,720]

Before I could even process the rewards, Principal Herald Crimson stepped forward on the dais again.

He raised his staff, and a wave of calming, authoritative mana gently rolled across the Colosseum, quieting the roar to a respectful hush.

"Michael Wilson," the Principal declared, his voice warm but resonant. "Step forward."

I walked towards the dais, each step feeling heavier than the last. The weight of fifty thousand eyes, the weight of history, the weight of the title 'Champion' – it pressed down on me.

When I reached the steps, Herald Crimson smiled, his ancient eyes holding a depth of understanding that was both comforting and unnerving.

"You fought with skill, with courage, and with remarkable ingenuity," he said, loud enough for the closest microphones to pick up.

"You have overcome immense challenges and proven that strength lies not in lineage, but in spirit."

He gestured, and an attendant brought forward a velvet cushion. Resting upon it was not a pre-made weapon, but a gleaming, silver ticket etched with complex runes. The Epic Weapon Selection Ticket.

"As Champion," the Principal announced,

"you are granted the right to select one Epic-grade weapon from the Academy's Royal Vault. A weapon suited to your unique talents. Choose wisely, young champion. May it serve you well on the path ahead.".

He presented the ticket to me. My hand trembled slightly as I took it. The cool metal felt impossibly heavy. An Epic weapon. A choice. A responsibility.

I bowed my head. "Thank you, Principal."

As I stepped back, my gaze inadvertently met Eric's across the arena. He was on his feet now, supported by medics, his face a mask of cold, controlled fury.

The disbelief was gone, replaced by a hatred so potent it felt like a physical blow. Our eyes locked for a single, chilling moment. No words were needed. This wasn't over. It had just begun.

The closing ceremony continued, awards were given to the other top finishers Leon looked stoic receiving his third place medal, Eric refused his second-place one entirely which make every one speeches about what Eric was thinking, but it all blurred together in my exhausted mind.

All I could focus on was the weight of the ticket in my pocket, the throbbing in my shoulder, and the chilling promise in Eric William's eyes.

I had won the tournament. I was the First Year Monarch.

But I had also just painted an even larger target on my back and I was certain that Eric has changed because previously I can see in his eyes filled with disgusted towards him or another Commoner but know I can see respect towards me like a warrior.

This a good thing for me atleast he will not became a demon and come lasted to me with like some kind of sucide plan.

Like any other villan, saying ' I will remember this humiliation I have suffer today.....I will make you pay next time more deadly.'

I turn towards Eric and I let out sigh~

' Seem like he will not say those line.'

( To be continued)

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