No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

After registering, Damien returned to his dorm room and settled cross-legged on the floor.

His breathing steadied as he closed his eyes, feeling the newfound strength surging through every fiber of his body.

The expedition had been extraordinarily fruitful. His battles against the S-ranked gorillas, in particular, had dramatically boosted his stats. Now, he stood at an incredible 125 points each in Strength, Vitality, Agility, and Intelligence, with 12 points in Sense.

Damien flexed his fists experimentally, marveling at the effortless power that surged through him. He was now theoretically 125 times stronger and faster than an average human.

Damien addressed his system, "How do I upgrade my Bronze-Ranked body to a Silver-Ranked body?"

The response flashed clearly:

[Upgrade Condition: Achieve 500 Points in Strength, Vitality, and Agility to unlock Silver-Ranked Body.]

Damien exhaled slowly. The path forward was steep but clear.

He turned his attention next to the skills he had acquired. The battle against powerful beasts had yielded not only raw strength but also intriguing new abilities. Three stood out distinctly:

[Skill Acquired: Poison Orb – Allows the creation of concentrated poison spheres, effective against targets up to the user's rank.]

[Skill Acquired: Stonehide Armor – Temporarily transforms the user's skin into a resilient, stone-like armor, greatly enhancing defense.]

[Skill Acquired: Thunderous Roar – Releases a powerful sonic blast, stunning and damaging nearby enemies. Effective radius increases with user's Strength and Vitality.]

Damien smiled slightly. He hadn't expected such high-quality skills from A and S-ranked beasts. The city-wide tournament would be an ideal stage to test them.

Evening arrived swiftly, bringing with it an atmosphere thick with anticipation. Damien stepped onto Combat Arena 3, the massive coliseum thrumming with noise, thousands of spectators cheering wildly.

Flags fluttered, and holographic banners displayed vibrant colors as the tournament officially began.

The announcer's voice echoed through the grand arena.

"Now entering the stage, a first-year from Pearl Institute, Damien Bloodbane!"

The crowd roared with excitement.

The atmosphere was electric, charged with relief and hope.

With the European War drawing to a close, the tournament had become a national spectacle, a celebration.

Win or lose, at least the deaths would stop.

And even losing was really not that big a deal.

Losing Mongolia barely made a dent in the grand scheme of things, especially for those living in Beijing.

Most spectators, caught up in the euphoria, treated the looming beast threat as a distant concern. Compared to years of brutal conflict with Europe, it felt almost manageable.

Damien walked out calmly, his eyes scanning the field as he took in the overwhelming enthusiasm of the audience.

Across from him, his first opponent appeared.

A sturdy, confident-looking fighter from War God College named Liang Xue. Liang was heavily built, nearly two meters tall, his bulging muscles barely contained within a specialized combat suit lined with mana circuits that hummed audibly.

He was one of the rare fighters that combined mana and mecha into a unique combat suit.

Liang raised a heavy broadsword, its edge gleaming ominously with faint mana pulses. "I've heard of you, Bloodbane." he called out confidently. "You're pretty impressive for a first year. But you'll find I'm not so easy to overcome."

Damien nodded politely. "I look forward to your guidance."

The match commenced with a loud gong, and Liang immediately surged forward, his steps shaking the ground.

Damien observed calmly, his senses acutely aware of every slight movement. At the last moment, just before the massive blade swung downward, Damien activated his new skill.

"Stonehide Armor," he murmured.

Instantly, his skin shimmered, taking on a greyish, stone-like hue. Liang's sword slammed down with colossal force but rebounded harmlessly with a loud clang, vibrating violently.

Liang stared, momentarily stunned. "What!?"

Without hesitation, Damien retaliated. He lightly flicked his wrist, forming a dark, virulent sphere in his palm.

"Poison Orb."

The orb shot out, colliding directly with Liang's chest.

The impact sent the muscular man stumbling backward, gasping for breath. He fell to his knees, struggling against the powerful toxin invading his system.

The crowd exploded into cheers, both amazed and startled by the swift and overwhelming victory.

"Winner! Damien Bloodbane!" the announcer cried excitedly.

As Damien exited the arena, whispers spread like wildfire through the audience.

"Did you see that armor? That skill is insane!" "He didn't even break a sweat!" "This guy might actually win the tournament and end the war!"

The city tournament quickly became Damien's personal testing ground, a stage not for glory, but for refinement.

With every round, he tested a new skill, adjusted his tempo, calibrated his power. His movements were surgical, each battle a live demonstration of evolving mastery.

In one early match, he faced a rapid-footed lightning specialist from the Southern Martial Academy. The opponent darted around the stage like a blur, firing off charged arcs of energy that danced across the field.

But Damien stood calmly, let the opponent come close before activating Thunderous Roar in his face.

The blast was instant. A shockwave of raw sound erupted from Damien's core, rippling the air.

The lightning specialist's footing faltered mid-dash, his legs giving out as he collapsed in a stunned heap, his consciousness shredded by the concussive force. The crowd went silent for a heartbeat. Then the cheers exploded.

Later, against a hulking brute from Dragon Shield Institute clad in layered mana-armor, Damien was more methodical.

His opponent charged like a tank, shrugging off elemental blasts and kinetic strikes. But Damien didn't fight head-on. He danced just out of reach, flicking his fingers to send Poison Orbs arcing through the air—green, humming spheres that homed in on exposed joints and seams.

With every strike, the brute slowed. The crowd watched as armor corroded, strength faded, and finally, the juggernaut dropped to one knee. Damien walked forward and tapped his blade gently against the side of the massive helm. A surrender bell chimed.

By the quarter-finals, his battles were practically performances.

A wind mage attempted to blind him with a hurricane of dust and debris. Damien activated Shadow Step, vanishing from sight, reappearing behind the mage before the attack even finished forming. One palm strike, infused with death mana, and the mage hit the ground twitching.

The spectators were entranced.

Each round pulled more people in. Streets across the city were filled with posters and screens displaying highlights of Damien's fights. His name trended on military networks.

Civilians dubbed him The Blade of Beijing.

Even foreign intelligence agencies began sending probes and whispers into Pearl Institute.

Military recruiters watched from reserved boxes, their eyes practically glowing.

"With just him, we might not need a full squad on the front lines," one officer muttered.

"He's at least S rank in practical combat."

"If we don't draft him now, someone else will."

In another skybox, four very familiar old generals had taken up permanent residence.

"He's moving even better than in the BGA semifinals," General Hong Fei murmured, half in awe.

General Riki huffed. "His energy control's maturing too. What's with all the strange skills he has been using? That kid is a genius in skill creation."

General Liang leaned forward. "You think he's hiding even more?"

General Maru laughed, loud and proud. "Of course he is! You think that monster's showing his real cards this early? Hah! He's just toying with them. I'm telling you, he's testing himself!"

In the stands, Fatty stood on his seat, arms flailing.

"That's my boss! See that spin thing? I taught him that!" he yelled.

"You did not!" Elly shouted beside him, her cute ears twitching irritably.

"Well, maybe not the spin, but the landing pose! That was all me!"

Around them, students from Pearl Institute burst into laughter, but none disagreed.

Damien Bloodbane had become a symbol. Not just for the school, but for the country. A living proof that strength had returned to China's youth.

Damien himself, however, remained calm. Focused.

Each match was just another equation. Another variable. He catalogued every mistake, every inefficiency. He used the chaos of the arena to simulate worse environments, stronger enemies, harsher pressures.

The real war would not be so clean. So loud. So celebrated.

In the quiet of the waiting rooms, as other competitors panicked or preened, Damien meditated.

His necromantic core hummed quietly inside him, flooded with power, but held tightly in check.

His skills, honed with blood and silence, were sharper than ever.

And yet, every time he looked at the leaderboard, every time he heard the cheers…

He thought not of victory.

But of the borderlands.

Of Ush-Beldir.

Of the seven warriors that would face Europe's finest and the fate of nations that would hinge on it.

The real fight, he knew, had yet to begin.