Deep underground within the Ancient Colossus, a grand VIP hall had been prepared, and it was filled with many of the world's most prominent Paragon figures.
This was no ordinary gathering.
High clans were present. Clans with enough strength that many believed they could one day rise and become factions of their own. The heads of these clans, along with their chosen representatives, sat at special tables arranged across the vast hall while watching the ongoing Paragon Battle Royal.
Everyone was focused.
Some kept their eyes locked on the screens showing their own participants, watching every movement, every clash, every decision. Others paid less attention to their own people and instead studied rival clans, judging talent, measuring growth, and deciding which groups were worth approaching later for alliance, trade, or complete absorption.
That was the way of the Paragons.
The strong ruled.
The weak struggled upward.
And if the weak ever showed value, they were quickly taken by the strong, either brought under their banner or erased before they could become a threat.
Even the Battle Royal itself carried that purpose.
Weaker clans entered hoping to display talent, earn attention, and secure powerful backing. Stronger clans entered to prove dominance, scout useful bloodlines, and crush future problems before they could bloom.
Simple. Brutal. Efficient.
Yet even inside a hall crowded with monstrous figures, nobles, political powers, and warriors whose mere presence could suffocate ordinary men, all of their combined aura was overshadowed by one being.
Jovisrax.
A figure believed to have stepped beyond the normal Paragon stages.
He sat at the front of the hall upon an elevated seat, calm and unmoving, like a king observing insects struggle in a jar.
Two guards stood beside him without a word.
Their bodies were hidden beneath shimmering silver armor that reflected the hall lights like polished mirrors. They did not move. They did not speak. Even so, their silent presence alone warned everyone present to know their place.
And so, while many powerful people filled the room, the truth was clear.
There was only one center in this hall.
Jovisrax.
No one dared to approach his table.
Jovisrax remained seated alone, his face expressionless and unreadable. No one could tell whether he was truly watching the Battle Royal or if his thoughts were somewhere far beyond this hall. Yet even in silence, his presence pressed down on the room like a mountain.
That alone was enough.
In a hall packed with powerful beings, old clans, and influential figures, the Wyndhams had somehow found themselves seated among them.
It was strange.
They were a clan that could barely be called a true clan by the standards of those present. They had no great legacy compared to the giants here, no famous victories, and no achievements worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with the old powers.
Yet here they were.
Seated in the VIP hall.
Receiving the same premium treatment as every other clan.
Food, service, space, respect.
At least on the surface.
Right now, none of them cared about any of that.
Their eyes were fixed on the display before them.
It showed Isla.
More accurately, it showed Isla being dismantled.
"What does he think he's doing...?" John said, grinding his teeth as he stared at the screen.
Every member of the Wyndham table wore a grim expression.
They were watching the situation unfold in real time, and it was ugly.
"I told them to avoid any confrontation with the Synapse Circle," Lucius said calmly.
His tone was controlled, but the anger beneath it was clear enough for anyone listening.
That kind of anger was colder than shouting.
"I don't really think they have much control over who they run into," Jake replied.
His eyes never left the screen.
"But why isn't he getting out?" Jim said, leaning forward. "With what that lady has already done to him, the wristband should know Isla is no longer fit to continue."
No one answered immediately.
Because that was the real problem.
By all logic, Isla should have already been removed from the tournament.
Lucius did not reply immediately.
Instead, he slowly turned his head and looked toward a particular table.
Draven Valdeiro.
At first, the latter was not looking at him. His attention seemed fixed on the battle displays ahead. But as if he could sense eyes on him, Draven turned without delay and met Lucius's gaze directly.
The two men looked at each other in silence.
Neither spoke.
Then a knowing smirk slowly appeared on Draven's lips.
It was small, but clear.
Lucius stared for one more second before looking away. He then turned back to the others at the Wyndham table.
"My guess is that the pain cancellation ring is preventing the wristband from properly detecting his condition," Lucius said.
His voice remained calm, but his eyes had grown colder.
"Then why doesn't he just get out of there himself?" John asked immediately. "What is he waiting for?"
The worry on his face was obvious now.
Everyone at the table knew what could happen if Isla stayed there much longer.
And none of it was good.
---
Meanwhile, Isla lay on the broken ground and stared at Rhyssa as he tried to process her words.
'She wants me to quit?'
His heart pounded wildly inside his chest.
'No... no... I can't go out like that.'
His breathing grew uneven.
'This can't be how my tournament ends... I didn't even take down a single person.'
The thought struck him harder than any blow.
'And I might become the second person eliminated... right after that brat Alex.'
His mind spiraled further.
'The others won't forget it... they will mock me forever.'
'I will never hear the end of it.'
'I will never forgive myself.'
As those thoughts stormed through his head, Isla tried to move.
He forced his shoulder first.
Nothing.
He tried to lift an arm.
Nothing.
Then he tried to move his legs.
Still nothing.
His body refused to answer.
Rhyssa noticed Isla trying to move, but she only smiled.
"All the vital bones in your body have been broken," she said.
"You can't feel the pain because of your ring, but the damage is still there."
"You are crippled."
Isla knew she was right.
He could not feel his legs.
He could barely sense his arms.
His body felt distant, like it no longer belonged to him.
"The only reason you haven't been sent out of this tournament is simple," Rhyssa continued.
"The wristbands we were given work by reading the pain a person's body is experiencing and how the body reacts to that pain and damage."
She spoke calmly, almost like a teacher giving a lesson.
"But since you are not feeling any pain, the wristband is practically not registering your injuries."
"That is why it hasn't removed you yet."
She looked down at him without pity.
"But you know better than anyone how much damage you have taken."
"Enough to kill you if you were feeling everything properly."
Her words landed hard.
Not because they hurt.
Because they were true.
"Which is why I am giving you one last chance," Rhyssa said.
"And don't make me repeat myself."
Suddenly, the metal around her right arm shifted.
Plates moved.
Small parts slid and locked together with sharp clicks.
Her hand changed shape and formed into a blade.
The tip glowed bright with heat.
Even Isla, lying there half-dead, could feel the temperature coming off it.
"Quit the tournament now," she said.
"Or I kill you and send you out myself."
Isla lay on the ground, unable to move.
His eyes stared upward.
His breath came short and uneven.
'I can't die...'
'I can't die here.'
And in that helpless moment, Isla made his decision.
[Do you want to quit the tournament]
[Yes/No]
The system interface flashed before Isla's eyes.
Clean and Simple.
All that remained was for him to choose.
Crack..!
A sharp sound suddenly echoed through the area.
Rhyssa's head snapped toward the direction it came from.
The sound had come from behind her.
Even Isla paused on his decision and forced his eyes to look past her. His vision was blurred, but he could still make out movement.
"Continu...!" Rhyssa shouted as she swung her blade arm back toward Isla.
The metal blade glowed a deeper red.
Heat rolled off it in waves.
Then the blade suddenly elongated, stretching forward like molten steel made solid.
Crackkk...!
Boom!
Before she could strike, something burst through the trees.
A figure smashed out from the forest like a cannonball.
One thick tree was hit clean through the middle.
Its upper half spun away and crashed into the swampy ground.
The incoming figure did not slow down.
It came diving straight at Rhyssa.
She tried to move.
She tried to dodge.
Too late.
Bang!
The figure slammed into her and drove her straight into the ground in front of Isla.
The impact was monstrous.
Mud, roots, and broken earth exploded outward.
Even Isla was blasted away by the shockwave, his body rolling across the dirt several times before finally stopping.
For a moment, everything rang in silence.
Then footsteps.
Then laughter.
"Haha... look at you."
"You really are pitiful."
The voice was familiar.
Mocking.
Annoyingly familiar.
Isla forced his head up and stared ahead.
Standing there was a tall, slim teenager dressed in the Wyndham golden dojo cloth.
Dust drifted around him like smoke.
"Lennox?" Isla called out.
Shock hit first.
Then relief.
Then shame.
His eyes nearly watered on the spot.