Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: The Rotation Tournament Begins
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The Rotation tournament is broadly divided into preliminaries and the main event.
Once participants drop like late autumn leaves in the prelims, the real highlight begins: the 16-strong knockout tournament. Including the prelims, you need at least five wins to claim victory.
Five fights for 30,000 experience points.
Doing some liberal arts division—Jin was an engineering major, after all—he figured each match would be worth around 6,000 XP in difficulty.
No. They'd probably distribute the experience more evenly anyway.
These systems have zero flexibility.
What if you lose in the finals?
All that effort, and you walk away with nothing.
Suddenly, Jin chuckled at the memory of a pro gamer who'd roared that second place was still impressive.
Then he glanced back at his status window and pondered further.
Historically, only two unaffiliated participants had ever won the Rotation.
From that angle, the seemingly absurd experience reward started to make a bit more sense.
Jin stopped overthinking it.
Good things were good.
Experience was just a bonus.
It shouldn't set the bar.
With that, he decided to clear his head and wandered aimlessly around town.
The city, now five days from the festival, buzzed with anticipation.
Cafes and restaurants were packed from early morning, with people at outdoor tables debating this year's winner. Long lines of street stalls sold merchandise emblazoned with each family's crest.
It was a taste of everyday life he hadn't felt in ages.
Everything felt fresh to Jin, but what truly put him at ease was that most of them were Purists.
How many wildly diverse folks had he encountered over the past year and a half?
Cyborgs who loathed their organic bodies, superhumans twisted into half-beast hybrids by gene mods, robots passionately waving "Android Lives Matter" signs at rallies demanding realistic 99.9% lifelike genitalia demos, and more.
Not a single normal one in the bunch.
To a 21st-century outsider, it was cultural shock after home-run cultural shock.
Frankly, how do you even accept or understand that stuff? You just get used to it.
And in a situation like now, surrounded by people like him?
To Jin, this place was Hawaii, Bali, and the Maldives all in one.
His steps naturally lightened as he strolled down the cobblestone street.
“Kyaa!”
Something bumped into his leg, followed by a sharp yelp.
“...Hm?”
Jin looked down to see a little girl who'd fallen on her butt, staring up at him.
Her big eyes blinked just as a helium balloon floated up into the sky.
Jin smoothly snatched the string and extended his arm.
“Here.”
The girl took the balloon in a daze and bowed her head.
Jin helped her up with a handshake-like grip and said sternly,
“No hurts?”
“Yes.”
Jin gently admonished her to be more careful next time and turned to leave.
“...?”
But he tilted his head, his gaze landing on the balloon in her hand.
A soft purple background with a lightning bolt symbol?
“You a Zahard fan?”
“Yes.”
Jin smiled faintly, crouching to her eye level, and snapped his fingers.
A spark crackled up, forming tiny words in the air.
The unexpected sight drew a pure gasp of awe from the girl.
Her parents rushed over and scooped her up from behind—
“Young lady! I told you not to run!”
“Mom! This big brother is Zahard!”
The girl just bounced in place, oblivious.
“What...”
The parents finally looked where her tiny finger pointed.
But the lightning had already faded.
Jin, watching from afar, smirked and turned away.
Time flew by.
Jin spent it quite leisurely.
Met up with Raf, had dinner with Eanna...
One day touring like a tourist, the next holed up in the hotel resting. A perfect sweet-and-salty routine for body and mind.
The only issue(?) was how ridiculously luxurious his suite was.
A massive chandelier in a hotel room? Come on.
Living room and kitchen were standard, sure.
But a training room rivaling a gym, dry and wet saunas, a vast library, pricey objets d'art.
Too many amenities to list without tiring his jaw.
Every morning, waking on the plush mattress, Jin habitually cheered thanks to Elina.
And so, the opening ceremony day arrived.
“Hooray--!!”
True to form, Jin started his day with a cheer and sauntered out of the hotel.
He hopped in a waiting taxi, arriving soon at the massive arena.
“Whoa.”
Jin shook his head unwittingly.
Anyone would react the same.
Endless crowds shoving into the stadium.
Fortunately, participants had a separate entrance.
Who said he wasn't directionally challenged? After asking around, Jin finally entered.
“...Damn, it's huge.”
The vast field was prepping for prelims.
It was split into two areas, each big enough for a thousand people. Different colored flags marked each section, broadcast in split-screen on the giant scoreboard.
Matches would run simultaneously, no doubt.
With that many people...
As Jin scanned nearby participants, murmuring to himself—
“Hey—”
Raf appeared, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Get some sleep?”
“Plenty.”
Jin replied casually. Raf headed for registration.
“Lucky you. I was too nervous to sleep a wink.”
“Not a wink?”
Jin turned to check Raf's face. Dark circles under his eyes.
“More than one night?”
“Two days now.”
“Sheesh.”
Jin chuckled dryly. Raf bristled.
“Hey, it's my shot after seven years. Not shaking would be weird.”
He sighed, adding,
“Plus, today's draw luck is huge. Mess up and you're in the death group. Highlight reel fodder.”
“Draw luck? Death group?”
“It's like—”
Raf started to explain, but they were at the desk.
“Name?”
“Jin Evernight.”
“Confirmed. Draw a ball from the box.”
Jin reached into the white box. His eyes widened slightly—the balls swirled on their own.
Ooh, magic?
He grabbed one brushing his palm and handed it over.
“Group 2. Wait at your station.”
Raf drew next: Group 11. His face lit up.
“Yes! Dodged it!”
“...? What's got you so happy.”
Raf grinned, eyes bright.
“What else? Not grouped with the seven families' reps. They separate them for fairness in prelims.”
Here's the deal—
Prelims are a battle royale by another name.
Only one survivor per group.
The last one standing raises the flag and advances.
So family reps are avoided like the plague.
Get grouped with them, and you're out before you dream bigger.
Jin? He dodged too.
Family groups: 1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 13, 16.
Unlike thrilled Raf, Jin felt nothing special.
Bound to face them eventually—might as well early. That was his take.
Anyway, groups assigned.
He settled in the participants' seats with Raf.
Then the opening ceremony began.
A grand show fit for Purists' return after seven years—feast for eyes and ears.
Jin clapped along for a while.
Suddenly, murmurs rippled like waves across the arena. He turned.
Central stage: a graying middle-aged man stood there.
“......”
“......”
The crowd hushed. Jin poked Raf's side.
“Who?”
Raf swallowed hard.
“Sword Saint...”
Jin rifled through his mental notes—recently crammed info.
Anarion's 31st family head.
Sword Saint.
Gail Anarion.
Young nickname: Mad Sword. Slashed countless black mages, including high-risk criminals, like a maniac.
He faced and overcame death countless times—far from a greenhouse flower.
Despite top contender status, never entered Rotation.
Didn't care if it upset his family; training without risking life was pointless. A battle maniac legend.
Of course, ancient history, over 20 years old.
Age mellowed him, or enlightenment—his face now evoked clear waters.
Next moment.
The perfectly middle-aged face swept the crowd lightly and spoke into the mic.
“Enjoy yourselves.”
One phrase.
That was it.
Short speeches are cooler, right? Opening addresses, welcomes, acceptance speeches.
The silence built to this—thunderous cheers erupted.
Sword Saint! Sword Saint! Sword Saint! Sword Saint!
Ears rang from the chants.
When listing Lost City's strongest: five Omega psychics, seven family heads, nine legends. Never missing them.
Era's pinnacle.
One stood before them.
Natural to hang on every word, track every move.
Cheers delayed the event forever.
Thus, amid the frenzy, Group 1 and 2 matches started!
Participants poured into the field; spectators snapped to attention.
Of course, eyes locked on Group 1 like magnets.
Even Jin, warming up, cupped hands to his mouth and bellowed,
“Cerebellum-----King!!!! Fight---ing!!!! See ya in the 16!!!”
Kendrick, arms crossed mid-field, twitched an eyebrow at the roar beside him. But no annoyance.
His face solo on the scoreboard.
He struck a lofty pose, ignoring the world.
Right by the central flag, too. Others circled warily. Pwooo—! Horn barely sounded. “Attack!” “He's alone anyway!” Someone yelled; all charged like they'd planned. Kendrick's eyes crackled with lightning. * “Wooooah!!!!” Most eyes on Group 1. A few glanced at Group 2. Same field, split, but no family rep meant less hype.
No reason to watch.
Yet someone did: the Sword Saint.
A pleased smile crept on his lips. “A dark horse.” His quiet murmur ended.
CRACKLE--!!!!
Purple lightning erupted with explosive force.
Output rivaling—no, surpassing—the Cerebellum King.