URBAN VILLAIN SYSTEM

Black Fire Academy...

The martial testing grounds was divided into dozens of elevated combat platforms.

Massive crowd configurations occupied the viewing stands, and the constant explosions of elemental magic from various simultaneous matches echoed through the vast arena.

Before Tony was even called up for his own debut, several high-tier matchups were already drawing massive crowd reactions from the spectators.

Among the initial rings, the nice-looking lady with the paintbrush—the disguised merchant heiress whom Tony had helped the previous night—was currently executing a highly unique and fascinating display of combat methodology.

Standing gracefully against a heavily armored, giant-hammer-wielding opponent, she did not panic or engage in physical clashes. Instead, she raised her delicate wooden brush, her slender fingers moving with absolute, fluid precision as she drew massive, ancient words directly into the empty air.

The moment the ink characters solidified in space, they violently flashed with a pure, brilliant light, instantly gaining a majestic divinity like a heavy, magical aura shield. Her opponent’s massive hammer strikes crashed directly into the glowing divine words, only to be completely repelled by the absolute protective laws of her artistic array.

With a casual flick of her brush, she materialized a soaring phoenix character that blasted her opponent straight off the stage, earning a flawless qualification and a wave of shocked cheers from the spectators.

"Ring number four! Tony Clark versus Marcus Vance! Step onto the platform immediately!" the arena announcer’s voice boomed across the stands.

Tony casually rolled his shoulders, his standard, lazy posture perfectly restored as he walked up the stone steps of the fourth combat ring. His dark hunting cloak billowed softly in the wind, his hand resting lightly on the simple wooden bow slung across his shoulder.

On the opposite side of the stage, his opponent, Marcus Vance, stepped forward with an incredibly arrogant expression. Marcus was a young master from a wealthy vassal family aligned with the Faith clan, and his hands were already glowing with a sharp, crackling lightning attribute.

"So, the legendary seventh-time trash has actually managed to crawl his way into the combat arena," Marcus sneered loudly, his voice full of pure, unadulterated scorn. "Do not think that shattering a stone monument through brute physical strength means you can survive a real magus fight, Tony Clark! I will fry your useless meridians into absolute ash before you can even draw your pathetic bowstring!"

Tony didn’t say a single word. A slow, highly amused grin curled the corners of his lips as his Truth Eye easily perceived the internal energy flow and the specific weak points of Marcus’s lightning array. Tony reached behind his back, pulled a standard iron-tipped arrow from his quiver, and notched it against the wooden bow string, his expression remaining completely unbothered.

The moment the referee signaled the start of the match, Marcus violently thrust both his palms forward, unleashing a massive, roaring bolt of jagged purple lightning that tore across the stone floor straight toward Tony’s chest.

Tony’s dark eyes narrowed into a razor-sharp focus. Because his system spirit was still stubbornly locked in a dormant state, he did not possess any high-tier spells or local martial methodologies to counter the magical projection directly.

Furthermore, he was acutely aware that his new physical body, despite the intense waterfall conditioning, was still fundamentally limited to the 7th Class Disciple magus stage; it was nowhere near as strong, resilient, or naturally explosive as his original Overlord Warrior physique back on modern Earth. He could not afford to take a direct hit from a high-voltage element.

Instead of trying to trade blows or unleash an energy attack, Tony relied entirely on his profound, previous-life combat experience. As the jagged lightning bolt closed in, Tony stepped back smoothly, using the basic structure of his old footwork to tilt his torso at a precise angle.

The crackling bolt sliced mere inches past his cloak, the residual heat singing the fabric, but Tony remained completely uninjured.

Marcus let out a frustrated roar, his hands moving even faster as he unleashed a rapid, relentless wave of lightning spears and electrical arcs to completely blanket the stage. For the first three minutes of the match, the fight looked entirely one-sided to the thousands of watching spectators in the stands.

Tony was doing nothing but blocking, dodging, and executing minimal defensive deflections using the heavy wooden body of his bow. Every time an electrical arc got too close, he would use the iron tip of an arrow to ground the current into the stone floor, his movements looking incredibly restricted.

High up on the viewing gallery, Julie Faith let out a cold, satisfied scoff as she watched the display. "A mortal piece of trash will always remain trash," she murmured arrogantly, assuming Tony was simply running out of stamina and would eventually be fried by the lightning.

However, the disguised merchant lady, who had just returned to the stands after her own victory, was watching Tony’s feet with a look of growing amazement. She realized that even though Tony looked like he was struggling, his lazy retreat was actually a perfectly calculated, strategic trap. He wasn’t running away in panic; he was intentionally allowing Marcus to waste his massive pool of spiritual energy on wide-range attacks while Tony carefully analyzed the exact timing and cooldown intervals of the lightning spells.

By the fourth minute, Marcus’s breathing had turned heavily ragged, his physical movements slowing down significantly as his internal energy pool began to reach a state of temporary depletion. The crackling purple light around his palms flickered weakly, revealing a massive, vulnerable opening in his frontal stance.

"Your little electrical show is finally over, young master Marcus," Tony said smoothly, his deep baritone voice carrying a sudden, terrifying chill that instantly made Marcus’s blood run cold.

Before the arrogant noble could even attempt to form a defensive shield, Tony’s lazy demeanor vanished entirely, replaced by the explosive, predatory aura of a true hunter. He activated his manual movement technique, his body turning into a swift, blurry shadow as he closed the massive distance between them in the fraction of a single millisecond. Tony didn’t even bother to shoot an arrow; he used the heavy, hardened wooden bow body as a physical staff, swinging it with the full force of his waterfall-conditioned muscles.

BANG!

The sturdy wooden bow slammed directly into Marcus’s unprotected ribcage with an absolute, bone-crushing impact. Marcus let out a muffled, choked gasp as the pure physical force violently lifted his body off the floor, sending him flying across the arena like a broken ragdoll before he crashed heavily onto the marble ground outside the ring, completely unconscious.

"Winner: Tony Clark! Qualified for admission!" the referee announced loudly, his voice echoing across the silent, shocked stands.

Tony casually slung his wooden bow back over his shoulder, his signature lazy smirk returning to his face as he walked down the stage steps, completely ignoring the stunned whispers of the young nobles. He followed the official signs and directed himself straight toward the grand administration hall of the outer campus to complete his enrollment protocols.

The administration hall was an immense, cold stone structure filled with long counters and strict academy registrars. Tony presented his silver-trimmed combat token to the head elder in charge. After a brief verification process, the registrar handed him a bundle of official outer disciple necessities: a pair of robust crimson-and-black uniform robes, an official copper identity token, and a small, heavy piece of cold iron.

Tony picked up the cold iron object and looked at it closely, a look of absolute shock and amusement instantly appearing on his face. His room key was actually a physical, primitive key rather than a high-tier spiritual seal or a digital fingerprint array. For a boy who had spent his previous life living in high-tech modern mansions and dealing with advanced digital security systems, using a literal physical key felt incredibly bizarre and ancient.

"Your assigned quarters are inside the Black Rock District, Room 404," the registrar said flatly, waving his hand to dismiss him. "Move your belongings immediately. Outer disciples must attend the morning assemblies tomorrow without fail."

Tony took his heavy bundle and walked down the long, winding mountain pathways for nearly an hour until he finally reached the Black Rock District—a secluded, shadow-filled valley lined with rows of small, identical stone huts carved directly into the mountain cliffs. He found the wooden door marked with the number 404, inserted his physical iron key into the rusty lock, and pushed it open with a low creak.

The moment he stepped inside his new private quarters, Tony was completely shocked once again by the sheer simplicity of the space. The room was incredibly small, containing absolutely nothing more than a tiny, bare meditation chamber, a basic wooden water basin, and a tiny shelf for clothes. There were no luxurious velvet chairs, no expensive carpets, and no advanced facilities whatsoever. The centerpiece of the entire room was a single, cold, and solid rock bed positioned right in the center of the floor.

Tony let out a long, slow sigh, a helpless smile curling the corners of his lips as he dropped his hunting gear onto the floor. He knew that as an outer disciple who had entered on his seventh and final attempt, this basic, isolated room was already considered the best possible accommodation the academy could provide for someone of his status.

He walked over, sat down cross-legged on the hard rock bed, and closed his eyes to enter a state of deep meditation, his mind already formulating the next strategic steps to completely dominate this entire institution the moment his system spirit finally woke up.

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