I Am a Hero With A Hundred Abilities
Chapter 81 - 81: Ch 80. Welcome

As Sophia opened her mouth to question why Ethan had been chosen, the timer hit zero.

Her Ascension token began to glow faintly—then suddenly erupted in blinding light, flooding the entire office in a radiant flash. When the light receded, Sophia was gone.

In Ethan's room, the same phenomenon occurred. His token pulsed once, then exploded with light. In an instant, Ethan vanished, leaving behind only silence.

A few seconds later, Lisa knocked softly on the door.

"I heard a noise—" she began, stepping in, only to stop mid-sentence. The room was empty.

"...Where did he go now?" she muttered, frowning in confusion.

All across various cities, the same event unfolded—32 tokens, 32 flashes, and 32 chosen were instantly teleported.

Each beam of light crashed into a massive, floating arena, one after another. The contestants emerged in flashes, landing with precision and purpose.

And then—silence.

It was quickly shattered by an intense wave of killing intent. Each contestant locked eyes with the others, instincts sharpened. They didn't need to be told—everyone here was an enemy.

Just before tensions erupted into violence, a smooth voice sliced through the air:

"Welcome to the Ascension."

All heads turned toward the source. A man stood at the center of the arena, dressed in a sharp red suit, with blond hair slicked back and sunglasses resting comfortably on his face. His charisma radiated effortlessly.

"Good to have your attention," he said with a grin. "Now, let's talk rules."

Across cities, powerful figures, heroes, clan masters, and even villains streamed the broadcast live. Eyes were glued to the screen.

Who would rise?

Who would fall?

And—who would become legend?

****

Before the announcer explained the rules, he gave the contestants a moment of clarity.

"The 32 of you standing here," he began, voice echoing through the vast arena, "were chosen for the Crownspire Ascension because of the feats you've already accomplished—and more importantly, the potential you possess to achieve even greater things."

A quiet murmur passed through some of the contestants.

"Each of you received your token from one of our collaborators or scouts—people who've spent years searching for talents, matching data, studying your progress, and verifying if you had what it takes to participate in this tournament."

Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly at those words.

'So Natasha was one of them...

That means I would've gotten the token even if Richard's life hadn't been on the line.'

His expression tightened.

'Just how much was she hiding from me?'

'But if someone like her was part of the selection... then these people really are the best this generation has to offer.'

The announcer continued with a grin.

"Now, the rules. It's simple—we'll be following a standard bracket format. Your first opponents have already been selected randomly. If you win, you proceed. If you lose, you're eliminated. There are no retries."

He held up a finger, pausing for emphasis.

"And just to be clear—victory is only achieved in two ways: your opponent admits defeat or they're no longer able to continue."

A few fighters clenched their fists at those words.

"But don't hold back. The arena you're standing on is built to suppress and nullify killing blows—even from an Ascendant. So go all out."

That caught Ethan's attention. His brow lifted slightly.

'Blocking a blow from an Ascendant? That's no small feat... whoever made this arena wasn't joking around.'

The announcer then extended his hand toward the far side of the dome. In a flash, a large floating screen appeared above them, illuminating the names, ranks, levels, and ages of all 32 contestants in their matchups.

Gasps rippled across the arena.

All eyes locked on one particular name—and then, disbelief set in.

Ethan Cross

18 years

E-Rank (Forsaken)

Level 3 (Warrior)

It didn't make sense.

He was too young, too weak and had a rank that was practically a stain among prodigies. Several contestants scoffed out loud.

A few just shook their heads and chuckled, already crossing him off mentally as a non-threat.

"This has to be a mistake..." someone muttered.

"Is this a prank entry?" another sneered.

But the announcer didn't flinch.

"The matchups have been set. First combatants, prepare yourselves. The rest—take your seats in the stands."

The arena itself was massive—a sealed dome, crafted from sleek obsidian walls and glowing arcane lines, with no visible audience.

The battles were being streamed through hidden cameras to viewers across cities. The stands were eerily quiet, filled only with the presence of the remaining contestants and a few subtle watchers.

Yet somewhere, within the arena's unseen depths, the Saint watched silently. They didn't reveal themselves, but their presence was undeniable—a distant pressure, sharp and ancient, observing the chosen with careful eyes.

As contestants filtered into the stands, murmuring among themselves, the first match was about to begin.

And just then—Sophia began walking toward Ethan, her gaze unreadable, her steps deliberate.

As Sophia stood in front of Ethan, a quiet tension settled between them. Neither spoke at first.

She simply stared at him, eyes sharp and unreadable. Ethan returned the stare, calm and unwavering. Around them, the other contestants watched with subtle curiosity.

Whispers stirred in their minds, though no one voiced them aloud:

'Was she planning to take him out before the matches even began?'

'Was this a preemptive strike to eliminate the weakest?'

But Sophia made no move. Instead, she finally broke the silence.

"So... you were chosen."

Ethan nodded. "Yes. And it seems you were too."

Sophia hummed softly in acknowledgment. Then her expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing with genuine interest.

"What do you plan to do... if you win?"

Ethan didn't hesitate. "Isn't it obvious?" he said, his voice steady. "I'll ask the Saint to heal your father."

Sophia's eyes widened in shock.

For a brief moment, her composed facade cracked—genuine surprise, then something softer.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. Then, slowly, her gaze lowered as a warm feeling bloomed in her chest.

'He's… so sweet, she thought, heart fluttering unexpectedly. Even now, he's thinking of others.'

She smiled—a soft, radiant smile that took Ethan off guard. It was the first time he had ever seen her smile like that. It wasn't out of pride or defiance… it was real and Gentle.

"Just be ready," she said, lifting her eyes back to him her gaze softer than usual. "I won't go easy just because it's you."

Ethan blinked, stunned for a second, before regaining his composure. A smirk curved his lips.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I won't like it it was to easy."

Sophia gave him a final nod, then turned gracefully and walked back to her seat in the stands. Her expression had softened, but her resolve hadn't wavered.

Ethan watched her go, then turned his eyes to the arena.

The tournament had officially begun. The first match was moments away.

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