Demonic Pornstar System

Magnus sat at the center of New Dawn's inner hall. The morning light could be seen pouring through the crystalline dome above, illuminating the bustle around him. His advisors moved with precision, shifting documents, projection screens, rune-slates, and holographic maps into place as they presented their respective reports.

Fifty veterans were already prepared. Each one of them was akin to a polished blade that had been sharpened by years of combat, hefty investments, and ruthless expectation.

They stood on the far platform in full gear, organized by squad and sub-specialization, ready to unleash absolute devastation the moment the competition began.

On the opposite platform, the twenty rookies waited in straight-backed lines, the youngest barely out of childhood, the oldest brushing their early twenties. Every one of them had survived New Dawn's grueling qualifiers, its internal tournaments, and the infamous three-stage "proving sequence" that weeded out ninety percent of hopefuls.

They were unpolished by comparison to the veterans, but they radiated confidence and an immense desire to prove themselves on this stage - and to win the rewards, of course. To most people in the rookie track, the one million Chronos was incredibly tantalizing, as they hadn't yet received the generous contracts the veterans had.

And among them, front and center, stood the pair he had summoned.

One young man and one young woman. Both early twenties and already dangerous enough to be considered trump cards in other guilds. But in New Dawn, their brilliance only amounted to them leading the rookie forces.

The young woman, Mariana Reyes, came from Colombia.

Before her awakening, she had been a paramedic's assistant in a rural district. It was one of the few stable jobs available where dungeon raids regularly left entire villages in need of medical support. New Dawn had poached her after she awakened to her S-tier class.

Her long black hair was tied into a tight braid, her expression calm in a way that came from years of dealing with trauma victims and the brutality of conflict. But the way she held herself now was unmistakably the result of New Dawn's elite training. They had taken a quiet, analytical girl from the Colombian countryside and forged her into something lethal.

Beside her stood Chinedu Obasuyi, a former engineering student from Nigeria whose life had been defined by repairing broken infrastructure rather than fighting on the front lines. He had joined an underfunded local volunteer corps simply to help keep the district generators running, completely unaware that an awakened spark slept inside him.

Just like with Mariana, Chinedu was also snatched up by New Dawn after he awakened. They bought out the remainder of his education contract and flew him to the U.S. before he had even touched a real dungeon. Everything he was now, the broad-shouldered athleticism, the controlled posture, the hum of lightning mana under his skin, came from their drills, their tutors, their accelerated training program.

His razor-thin smile wasn't the grin of a seasoned warrior. It was the quiet pride of a man who had been given the chance to become something he never imagined possible.

These two were the reason New Dawn could boast what not many other guilds could:

Two S-tiers among their rookies, three with Alice included.

And it wasn't a miracle of domestic talent.

It was money.

It was an influence.

It was the American strategy that reshaped global awakened politics.

Guilds like New Dawn scouted aggressively across the developing world in places where governments and local guilds lacked funds, infrastructure, or stable dungeon defense programs.

Children awakened in Colombia, Nigeria, Bangladesh, Peru, and dozens of other nations found themselves courted with offers their home countries simply couldn't match. Full relocation packages. Family sponsorship. Salaries that dwarfed what national guilds could afford. Elite training programs and direct access to S-tier mentors.

It was how the United States, a nation with a fraction of China or India's population, still fielded one of the strongest awakened forces on Earth. In a world where 15% of humanity has awakened, the USA should lag behind. That's why they simply imported strength.

And Mariana and Chinedu standing there were proof of that strategy's overwhelming success.

Magnus let his gaze sweep over them, measuring their composure. The room quieted around him due to the advisors stepping back with instinctive respect.

"You two have been extensively trained for this. I expect precision, discipline, and results."

The taller of the young men cleared his throat. "Sir… is Alice still not returning?"

A muscle in Magnus's jaw twitched at the mention of his daughter's name. Barely, but it was enough for the advisors nearest him to exchange glances.

He didn't hide the flash of displeasure that crossed his features before he smoothed them back into professional dispassion.

"Alice has been unreachable for days. Vespera has informed me that my daughter is 'taking a break.'" The words left his mouth like something foul-tasting.

Silence followed, heavy with the unspoken understanding that Magnus Ashborn rarely tolerated disruptions to his plans even from his own children. Alice's disappearance was an inconvenience large enough to earn his contempt, even if he did not voice it fully.

"Still," Magnus continued, letting the word hang for a moment, "even without her, New Dawn's rookie force remains unmatched in the competition. Two S-tiers, twelve A-tiers, and eight B-tiers. The other guilds can't even field ten A-tiers or above in total, let alone produce two S-tiers."

He shifted his attention, first to the tall boy, the Nigerian spear-wielding prodigy whose raw presence alone would have guaranteed him celebrity status in any other guild save for Crimson Dominion and The Radiant Order. Then to the Colombian girl at his right. She sported a calm confidence only found in monsters who had never once tasted defeat. His gaze lingered on them both as though stamping responsibility onto their shoulders.

"You two are the pillars of the rookie track. You will lead and anchor your teams. You will dismantle the competition. And you will do it decisively."

His stare swept over both of them once more, expression flat and uncompromising.

"Anything short of flawless victory is unacceptable. Is that understood?"

The pressure that rolled through the hall made several nearby advisors stiffen, as though they themselves had been addressed. The two young elites straightened their backs and answered in perfect unison, voices hard with resolve.

"Yes, Guild Leader."

Magnus held their gaze for a moment longer and then nodded. "Good. You may leave."

They bowed and left at once.

Magnus inhaled. Then he rose from his seat.

He walked toward the main exit, where his three favorite children stood. They were part of the veteran track, led by Magnus himself.

All three straightened as Magnus stepped up to them.

"Let's go."

The mana in the air thrummed in answer.

It was time.

New Dawn was moving.

And they were not alone.

Across the vast encampment carved between the mountain ridges, all fifteen attending guilds were mobilizing in full force. Their banners caught the wind. Their squads marched out of their temporary halls like armies assembling on the eve of war.

The rewards the Association and New Dawn had promised were simply too tantalizing for anyone to ignore. Even the guilds that knew they didn't stand much of a chance entered the field regardless. To abstain would mean forfeiting a once-in-a-generation event.

Hopeful rookies formed into rigid lines.

Veterans triple-checked gear and enchanted plating.

Advisors shouted orders until their throats were raw.

And above it all, drones soared into the sky like a swarm of metallic locusts, each one activating its broadcast rune as hundreds of awakened streams went live at the same time.

The entire world leaned in to watch what was about to unfold.

Among those streams, flaring to life with a chaotic rush of comments and notifications, was one in particular.

Valhalla's Sinners.

Their feed clicked online.

Their viewers flooded in.

And the countdown to the competition began.