Chapter 76: Crushed everyone in 15 minutes Cavin, gripping his blade tight enough to whiten his knuckles, appeared in front of Ethan in a single blink of motion so swift it sliced through the air with a faint whine. He landed silently, but his presence exploded across the arena like a thunderclap. Ethan stood where he was, still gazing at him with the same eyes of unshakable disdain, as if Cavin’s killing intent was no more than an annoying breeze. The contempt etched in those calm pupils made something inside Cavin crack. He could no longer bear the humiliation. He wanted to crush this outsider’s arrogance beneath his heel. He longed to see fear reflected in those indifferent eyes—eyes that hadn’t wavered since the match began. Though this was not the real world, the pain inflicted in the battle arena was no illusion. Every blow, every broken bone, every last gasp was felt in the marrow. Cavin planned to defeat Ethan, then torture him slowly, savoring the agony and the surrender. He was the son of a noble house on the Primordial Star, born to a line that claimed their blood was purer than any other. He despised the policies of his race—policies that elevated insects from lower realms to stand beside the true aristocracy merely because they displayed some paltry spark of potential. Disgust churned in his heart. He dreamed that one day he would become powerful enough to rewrite these repulsive rules. He would purge the diluted blood, make everything clean and pure again. All these dark ambitions flooded through his mind in the heartbeat it took for him to raise his saber high overhead. The blade gleamed with a pale azure radiance, humming as it devoured the surrounding energy. He brought it crashing down in a vicious arc aimed directly at Ethan’s exposed neck. Yet Ethan didn’t move an inch. He simply watched, his gaze distant and bored, as though he were observing a child throwing a tantrum. Cavin thought Ethan was paralyzed by fear. A cold, triumphant smile tugged at his lips. "You’ll die, you mongrel!" Cavin roared, pouring every drop of strength into the strike. But before the blade could bite into flesh, something ancient and monstrous woke up. Cavin felt it first as a suffocating chill, as though a primordial beast had locked onto him as prey. His entire body froze, every muscle turned to stone. His saber trembled, stuck a single inch from Ethan’s throat. His lungs refused to draw air. His thoughts shriveled to a single, all-consuming terror. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺 In that instant, he felt like he was no longer in the arena. He was drifting in a black ocean without shore, night pressing down on him so densely it felt as if the stars themselves had been snuffed out. And then—two colossal red eyes opened in the darkness. Eyes the size of the sky itself. Eyes full of cold indifference. The same gaze Ethan was leveling at him now. Time slowed to an impossible crawl. He felt as though he were suspended in amber. Even the sound of his own heartbeat vanished. Ethan moved. Slowly, almost delicately, he raised his pinky finger. Cavin saw that finger, impossibly small and casual—and in that moment, it became the axis of his world. He felt as though the entire universe was collapsing around it. Then it came down. An apocalyptic force slammed into him. His consciousness burst like glass. In the blink of an eye, Cavin’s body exploded into countless motes of pale light. He was ejected from the arena, automatically logged out before the system could register his death. Yet in that fraction of a second, he had felt the truth—if this were reality, he would have been vaporized. No doubt at all. The arena fell into a stunned hush. Even the most powerful spectators could barely follow Cavin’s movement—but Ethan’s had been invisible, transcendent. Boom. Cavin was gone. A supreme prodigy obliterated in a single motion no one could even comprehend. The host robot’s laughter crackled, distorted by static as though something had stuck in its throat. "Heh heh... We didn’t see what happened, did we? Shall we see the replay in slow motion?" The crowd erupted in shouts of agreement, their faces pale with curiosity and fear. They needed to know—what had just happened? The replay began. Cavin’s blade hovered over Ethan’s neck. Twice slowed, the footage showed nothing but a blur. Five times slower—still nothing. Ten times slower, and Cavin vanished again as if erased by an invisible hand. Exasperated, the robot slowed the recording one hundred times. Finally, in that glacial crawl, the audience saw it—Ethan’s pinky finger rising and descending like a divine judgment. Even slowed to a crawl, it was still so fast it left afterimages. A shiver went through the spectators. Silence gripped the arena. Genos swallowed hard, feeling his throat click dryly. I was always behaving friendly with this monster...? And he even indulged me? An indescribable pride blossomed in Genos’ heart. He puffed out his chest unconsciously. The robot’s voice boomed with a thunderous finality. "We have a winner—Ethan Hunt!" A deafening roar of applause swept through the stands, a tidal wave of excitement and awe. Leon smiled warily, rubbing the back of his neck. "The president has surpassed us by every margin. We can’t even see his shadow anymore." Aurelia stood motionless, her eyes wide, her mind caught in a whirlpool of thoughts. This man...maybe...maybe he could help me to— Her heart gave a hard, uncertain thump. Yet the protagonist of this spectacle did not smile. Ethan turned his eyes to the robot. His voice was calm as a still pond. "I want to challenge all the rankers. Is it possible to challenge the number one directly?" The robot’s screens flickered as it processed. It laughed awkwardly. "We are sorry, Mr. Hunt. You must follow the protocol. You can’t challenge the top rank immediately." "As expected." Ethan sighed, his shoulders relaxing fractionally. "Then what do I do? I don’t have time." The robot answered briskly. "You must first challenge Rank 1000, then 900, then 800 in sequence. If you defeat Rank 100, you can face the top ten. Only after that may you challenge number one." Ethan nodded as if that was acceptable. "That’s good enough. Can you tell them to attack me together? I really don’t have time. Please." A hush fell again. The rankers in the observation stands erupted in anger, faces red. "So what if he’s strong? He isn’t even putting us in his eyes!" "He dares to mock us!" But no one dared step forward. Ethan sighed again, like a weary scholar. "Alright. Ranks 100 to 1000—these ten can come together. Yes?" The robot hesitated, unable to answer. Then a resonant, cool voice rolled over the arena. "The request is granted." Queen Freya herself had spoken. The crowd gasped. Even the queen was observing this match? Who was this man? As ordered, ten figures stepped onto the arena platform. Seven men and three women, each radiating a crushing presence. Ethan’s gaze softened slightly with regret. "I’m sorry. I really don’t have time." He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. Boom. The ten rankers vanished in a single breath. "What the... what happened this time?!" The replay began again, every spectator’s heart racing. Slowed down a hundred times, they finally saw—ten slender needles of metal force sprouted from Ethan’s palm. Each needle bored into its target, slicing them apart from within so quickly their bodies dissolved into motes of light before they could even scream. The arena was deathly silent. Genos was already holding a bucket to catch the tears streaming down his face. "What kind of monster is he...? With everything, he’s also a spirit master? Great. Just give him every talent. Why am I even alive?" Aurelia’s eyes were shining with a feverish brilliance. If the first time was a fluke, this time wasn’t. Those ten were all level-seven or higher Emperors. All the emperors of the primordial humans were at least 10 times stronger than normal races. And yet... they were slaughtered like chickens. No, not even chickens die so quickly. Ethan turned calmly to the robot. "Number ten, please." The robot gave an uneasy chuckle. "Number ten is not active at this moment. He has been informed. He will arrive in ten minutes." Ethan nodded with a resigned sigh. "Then I challenge everyone from Rank 99 to 11." Though everyone was not active,Seventy figures stood up as one, their expressions tense. Genos did not hesitate—he raised his hand and announced in a quivering voice, "I admit defeat!" He scuttled to the back, clutching his bucket. Aurelia looked at him in disgust before stepping forward without hesitation. This time, all seventy rankers prepared every defensive technique they knew the moment they set foot on the platform. Ethan did not attack immediately. He exhaled, adjusting his posture. These opponents were worthy. He would test his Heavenly Asura Free-Hand Combat Technique again. He sank into a balanced stance, one foot forward, arms half-raised, fingers relaxed but ready. The rankers exchanged wary glances. What was he waiting for? Ethan did not speak, merely curled his finger at them, inviting them to come. They roared as one and charged. Seventy of the most advanced prodigies under the Planetary Realm, every aura blooming to maximum intensity, every skill unleashed without restraint. The arena was swallowed in overlapping tides of force—burning pillars of flame, claws of shadow, spears of lightning. Ethan moved. His body flowed like liquid mercury, dodging each attack with zero wasted motion. He bent away from a blade with less than a hair’s breadth of clearance, turned aside a bolt of energy with a casual flick of his palm. He never stepped farther than he needed, never moved faster than he must. It was not precision. It was perfection. Every counter was inevitable, unhurried. The audience forgot to breathe as Ethan deflected seventy attacks as if dancing. Ten minutes later, the Number Ten arrived—just in time to see Ethan flick his wrist. A soundless wave of force erupted. All seventy rankers were blown bodily from the arena like broken dolls. He showed no mercy, not even to the women among them. The audience erupted in mad applause. Genos pounded his head on the railing. "Damn it! I missed my chance! Who would’ve thought he wouldn’t kill them instantly? That battle was so satisfying!" Number Ten stood at the edge, a proud figure in a white mantle. He inclined his head with respect. "I am Klaus Von Silford, Prince of the Silford Empire," he declared, his voice resonant. "It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Hunt." Ethan inclined his head in return. "It’s an honor, Your Highness. I hope you won’t mind if I end this quickly." Klaus laughed heartily. "No, I won’t. And please, don’t call me ’Your Highness.’ Call me Klaus. I would be honored to call you friend, if you allow it." Ethan smiled faintly. "Very well, Klaus. Shall we start?" Klaus nodded—but instantly he regretted it. Ethan appeared in front of him, faster than thought. Bam! A single strike caved in Klaus’ chestplate and launched him outside of the arena,about two kilometers from the platform. Klaus skidded to a halt, clutching his ribs and cursing. "Damn you, bastard! Is this how you treat a friend?!" Ethan called back mildly. "That was the punch of friendship, my friend. With this, our bond is sealed." Every spectator’s mouth twitched. First the prince cursed in public—then this reply. Then Ethan was looking for the 1st rank person. The first rank was a man named Damien, finally stepped onto the platform, his gaze heavy. He had watched Ethan’s moves. He could not even see them. With a wry smile, he bowed his head. "I admit defeat." And so Ethan Hunt became the undisputed number one in 15 minutes. He turned to the primordial tower, a sigh on his lips. "So much time wasted," he murmured.