My System Doesn't Give Power

The next morning, the academy arena looked far more prepared.

Five square stages had been arranged across the vast arena floor, each ringed with pale gray stone and seven thin red boundary lines carved into its surface.

Small groups of medical staff waited near the walls with stretchers, wearing the resigned expressions of people who already knew today would involve teenagers making terrible decisions with far too much confidence.

The spectator seats, however, were almost completely empty.

A handful of academy workers had shown up. Two janitors sat in one corner beside their cleaning equipment, while several administrative assistants occupied the middle rows, looking very much like they’d been sent here rather than chosen to come.

A few curious students were scattered across the stands as well, most leaning back in boredom or simply killing time because breakfast was over and classes hadn’t started yet.

Marty slowly surveyed the depressing turnout. "Wow. If three more people leave, we’re legally allowed to call this a private gathering."

Zac glanced at him. "Be grateful at least someone cares."

Students from Classes A and B had gathered on the arena floor. Class A had forty-seven students, while Class B had forty, bringing the total number of participants to eighty-seven.

"Why do I feel like the crowd of contestants looks far more impressive than the audience?" Marty muttered.

Five referees stood near the stages, each holding a tablet-like device.

At the upper stands overlooking the entire arena stood Matilda, Sir Simon, and another academy instructor. Matilda looked composed as usual; Simon, meanwhile, looked as though the students had already disappointed him in advance.

"That expression again," Marty murmured. "Has Sir Simon ever looked pleased?"

Daniel adjusted the spear strapped across his back. "Maybe when people stop making mistakes.

"So... never."

"Most likely."

Marty’s attention shifted toward the unfamiliar man standing beside them. "Who is that mid-life crisis with them?"

"Most likely Class B’s homeroom instructor," Shobin replied.

Sabrina stood nearby with her arms folded, white hair falling over her shoulders and her face carrying its usual cold indifference.

Kelly, on the other hand, looked noticeably nervous as she stared at the stages. "So... we’re really doing this?"

"That was made fairly clear yesterday," Shobin said.

"I know that. I was just hoping, you know, something might’ve changed overnight."

"Why are you so nervous?" Marty asked. "It’s just a small tournament. Nothing bad’s gonna happen."

"I know. It’s just..." Kelly hesitated. "I’ve never fought someone without my summons."

Suddenly, a loud voice erupted from the side.

Everyone turned and saw Adrian standing there, looking thoroughly offended by the arena itself. "A joint tournament between two classes, and this is the atmosphere they provide? No banners, no music, no proper entrance, not even a dignified announcement of my arrival."

Marty stared at him. "You want people to clap because you walked in?"

Adrian’s eyes narrowed as though the question had personally insulted generations of nobility. "Not people. The world. They should probably televise me."

Everyone shook their heads and turned away.

[It’s almost admirable how little shame fits inside one human body.]

Before the conversation could continue, Matilda stepped forward and raised a microphone.

"Everyone, pay attention."

Matilda’s calm voice carried across the arena.

"As you already know, this tournament will be used to evaluate your mastery of mana control and mana coating. This is not a contest of awakened abilities, skills, bloodline traits, elemental attacks, summons, curses, poisons, or any other special powers."

"You are only allowed to use mana coating and nothing else."

Even though the students had already heard the restrictions yesterday, they still somehow felt heavier now.

"Since there are eighty-seven participants, the first round will consist of forty-three matches. One student will receive a free pass and advance directly to the second round. To avoid wasting time, five matches will be held simultaneously across the five stages."

Marty leaned toward Zac and whispered, "Five at once? So if I lose, there’s a chance nobody will see it, right?"

"Well, that’s one way to stay optimistic."

[Another is denial.]

"The rules are simple," Matilda continued. "A match ends when one participant steps outside the boundary, loses consciousness, becomes unable to continue, or surrenders, and if your opponent surrenders, you will stop immediately."

Her expression grew more serious.

"More importantly, this is only a contest to evaluate your mastery over mana. No killing moves, life-threatening attacks, or deliberate crippling injuries. We have medical staff present, but that does not give you permission to be reckless."

She swept her gaze across the gathered students. "If any of you are caught using a skill or ability at any stage of this tournament, you will be immediately disqualified and severely punished. All of your previous results will also be declared invalid."

The atmosphere around the students quieted noticeably.

"Your lot numbers will be sent to your VSBs. When your number is called, proceed to the assigned stage, show it to the referee, and wait for the match to begin. Do not climb onto a stage before being called, and there will be no arguing with the referees."

With that, Matilda stepped back, and Sir Simon moved forward.

Marty tilted his head. "So we’re not using some mysterious box to draw the lot numbers?"

Shobin gave him a flat look. "What century are you living in?"

Daniel glanced over. "You read way too many Xianxia cultivation novels."

Marty clicked his tongue. "You people have no respect for tradition. Half the suspense comes from sticking your hand into a suspicious box and hoping fate doesn’t ruin your day."

"Mana coating is not decoration," Simon said bluntly. "Do not cover yourself in mana and assume that means you have control. I will be watching every move you make."

His eyes swept over the students. "If all you can do is wrap mana around your body like a frightened child hiding under a blanket, don’t expect a good evaluation."

Silence fell over the arena, and Marty slowly looked down at his own hands. "I suddenly feel personally attacked by the blanket comment."

The middle-aged man standing beside Matilda and Simon stepped forward next.

"For those who don’t know me, I’m the homeroom instructor of Class B. My name is Murphy. The first-round lots have already been drawn and sent to your VSBs."

"Ding. Ding. Ding."

Notification sounds rang out across the arena almost simultaneously.

"It seems you’ve all received them. But before we begin the matches, let me announce the student receiving the free pass."

He glanced at his device.

"Sabrina Snow, Class A."

Immediately, dozens of eyes turned toward the white-haired girl.

Sabrina showed no reaction whatsoever. She simply stood there with her arms folded, looking as indifferent as ever.

Marty stared at her, mouth hanging open. "Why did it have to be you? The one free pass that could’ve saved somebody gets handed to one of the best students here. Like you really needed the help."

"Luck is also a part of strength," Shobin commented from the side.

"No one asked you, nerdy," Marty shot back.

Sabrina calmly walked past the group. As she passed Zac, she flicked her white hair behind her shoulder and continued toward the stands to watch the rest of the tournament.

Daniel stepped closer to Zac. "Are you okay with this?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Well, if you got to watch more of her fights, you could come up with a strategy to beat her, right?"

"True." Zac nodded. "But remember, the winner isn’t necessarily going to be the last person standing. The rankings are based on who demonstrates the greatest mastery of mana and mana coating. Getting a free pass means she loses one opportunity to showcase what she can do."

Seeing the two talking, Marty wandered over. "I know what you said is technically correct, but the monkey inside you isn’t letting this slide, is it? You’re probably burning up inside wondering why she got the free pass."

"No one asked you to say it out loud, Marty."

Adrian heaved a dramatic sigh again. "How tragic. A rivalry interrupted by bureaucracy."

Marty grinned. "Honestly, this might be the cleanest win Sabrina gets all tournament."

Sabrina, already a short distance away, stopped and looked back. Her icy glare landed directly on Marty.

He immediately raised both hands. "Respectfully. Very, very respectfully."

Similar conversations were unfolding throughout the crowd when a sharp clap cut through the noise.

"The first five matches will now begin. When your number is called, proceed to your assigned stage."

A referee walked to the center of the first stage. "Stage One, Match One. Lot number twelve against forty-six."

Two students immediately stepped out of the crowd and headed toward the stage.

Another referee called from the second stage. "Stage Two, Match One. Lot number eight against seventy-one."

The process repeated across the arena as the remaining referees announced their first matches.

Students checked the lot numbers displayed on their VSBs, their faces showing everything from excitement to dread.

Zac glanced down at his own. ’Thirty-nine.’ "So I’m not in the first batch."

"Me neither," Marty said.

Kelly let out a soft breath beside them. Daniel and the others hadn’t been called either.

Adrian folded his arms in annoyance. "Making me wait is a bold choice."

Zac glanced at him. "For who?"

Adrian looked genuinely perplexed.

"Ahaa...The tournament...? The teachers...? No... For me..." He turned his face away with a huff. "Whatever. Don’t ask me stupid questions."

Once all ten students had taken their places on the five stages, the referees raised their hands almost simultaneously.

"Begin!"

"Ding!"

The sound of a gong rang across the arena.

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