When Joe stepped onto the stone platform, three of the four individuals waiting there turned their gazes toward him. Their eyes locked onto his with such intensity that he immediately felt self conscious. It was as if a massive spotlight had been cast over his body. The weight of their attention pressed down on him, and he lowered his gaze to his feet to avoid their piercing stares.

  A few seconds later, he looked up again. They were still watching him with open curiosity. Only one of them had not even bothered to glance in his direction.

  ‘Is this really the guy?’

  The thought came from a young man with bright, spiky yellow hair tied back with a red bandana. His sharp eyes moved over Joe’s frame as if dissecting him piece by piece.

  Chase had gathered information before the tournament began. He had heard the stories. The boy from the East Section who eliminated more than thirty competitors in three seconds. The largest and quickest mass elimination across all five battle royals.

  Chase did not believe a word of it.

  To accomplish such a feat would require absurd speed, especially while wearing a suppression collar that restricted mana circulation. It defied logic. In his mind, it had to be an exaggerated rumor spread to intimidate opponents.

  If it were true, then his own title would be meaningless.

  That idea alone made him scoff inwardly.

  He was still the Master of Speed. This tournament would only reaffirm it. He would begin by eliminating the so called prodigy in under three seconds. That would silence any doubt.

  ‘So this is the guy who knocked out multiple man in a single blow.’

  Breaker stood with his massive upper body exposed, muscles thick and well defined. His arms were crossed as he studied Joe with a critical stare.

  He had heard about Joe's exploits in the battle royal and how he had sent more than ten man flying with one strike. The report intrigued him. Breaker prided himself on raw physical dominance and even he couldn't see himself achieving something so absurd, which was why he was initially interested in the boy. He believed no one else in the entire prison possessed comparable strength to him so he was keen to meet the man he heard achieved such an incredible feat.

  But the boy before him was tall and lean, lacking visible muscle. There was no imposing presence, no hardened build that suggested destructive force.

  Breaker’s lips twitched slightly in disdain.

  The rumors were clearly exaggerated. The figure standing before him looked like someone who had never lifted a weight in his life.

  And that was enough for Breaker to dismiss him entirely.

  One of the competitors snorted and adjusted his glasses with a single finger, pushing them slightly up his nose. The lenses gleamed beneath the radiant glow of the beast cores embedded in the ceiling, and Joe’s reflection shimmered faintly across both surfaces.

  “It’s all according to my calculations,” the boy muttered with a smug grin.

  His name was Lars. His messy black hair fell over sharp eyes that seemed to measure everything they saw. As a Third Rank [Mathematician], numbers were not just a skill to him. They were truth itself. Numbers did not lie. They did not exaggerate. They exposed reality in its purest form.

  When he first heard the rumors surrounding Joe, he dismissed them immediately. The stories of overwhelming speed and impossible strength clashed with the formulas running through his mind. When broken down numerically, the claims collapsed under their own weight. If they were true, then every principle he had studied would have to be rewritten.

  Now that he was seeing Joe in person, his skepticism only deepened.

  Using [Quick Analysis], he calculated a mere 10% danger level emanating from the boy. The lowest among the four of them. That alone confirmed his conclusion. Joe was the weakest participant on the stage.

  Breaker, on the other hand, registered at a staggering 70%. That figure demanded caution. Even so, Lars remained calm. Breaker was nothing more than a brute who relied on muscle. And as everyone knew, intellect triumphed over strength.

  In Lars’s mind, his probability of winning stood firmly at 100%.

  ‘What the hell am I doing here?’

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  Reaper stood frozen stiff on the left side of the platform. The roar of the crowd faded into a dull blur as his heart pounded violently in his chest.

  With pale skin, blackened lips, and heavy dark circles beneath his eyes, he resembled a walking corpse. His gothic appearance had unsettled people since birth. His own parents abandoned him at an orphanage, convinced he was some kind of demon.

  He had never fought anyone in his life. The only reason he was imprisoned was because an elderly woman had died from shock after seeing him, and the witnesses blamed him without hesitation.

  When the battle royal in his section was announced, he had fully expected to be the first one eliminated. Instead, after he stood silently and stared at the others, something strange happened. The competitors panicked. One by one, they fled and eliminated themselves the moment it began.

  And now he was here.

  Standing on a grand stage, surrounded by champions from the other sections. Each of them radiated confidence and strength. Each of them looked like a monster in their own right.

  Reaper remained motionless and unblinking, his hollow gaze fixed forward.

  He did not want victory.

  He simply hoped the nightmare would end quickly.

  A few seconds later, Joe lifted his gaze again. He exhaled in relief and placed a hand over his pounding heart when he saw that the others were no longer focused on him.

  The muscular man had closed his eyes, standing tall with a stoic expression. The boy with the glasses stared into the distance as though a thousand calculations were running through his head. The short boy with jagged yellow hair, however, was glaring at the pale contestant with open irritation.

  “Why are you looking at me like that, you bastard? You’ve been staring at me without blinking since I stepped on this stage. Got something to say?”

  Despite the outburst, the pale boy did not react. He remained perfectly still, his hollow eyes locked onto the boy as though he had not heard a single word.

  The boy's anger faltered. A hint of unease crept into his expression at the lack of response.

  Joe used the moment to study them carefully. Based on Bob’s descriptions, he matched names to faces.

  The massive man with the broad frame and heavy hands had to be Breaker. Those fists looked capable of crushing bone with a single strike.

  The yellow haired youth could only be Chase. His compact short height and lean body suggested explosive speed.

  The bespectacled boy was undoubtedly Lars. The quiet, analytical type who had slipped under everyone’s radar until his battle royal victory.

  And the pale, unmoving figure was Reaper. The one who had won without lifting a finger.

  They all looked powerful.

  Joe’s eyes flashed with excitement.

  ‘These guys are the real deal.’

  The instant the thought crossed his mind, the hall plunged into darkness. The lights vanished, and the roaring crowd fell silent as though a switch had been flipped.

  Four blue beams of light descended from the ceiling, illuminating an open area beyond the ring on the northern side. The stone floor cracked where the beams struck, and plumes of smoke rose as metal mechanisms groaned.

  Silhouettes emerged through the haze.

  When the smoke cleared, four figures were revealed seated upon luxurious red chairs.

  “Everybody please welcome! The Four Great Kings of Suveny Prison!”

  The announcer’s voice boomed across the hall, impossible to locate.

  The silence shattered into thunderous cheers.

  “First, the most beautiful inmate and the King of the West, Merry Stone!”

  Merry Stone rose gracefully. He had altered his prison uniform into something resembling female attire. The trousers had been turned into a skirt that revealed thick thighs and sculpted calves. The upper half was cut short, exposing toned abdominal muscles. Pink lipstick colored his full lips. With a radiant smile, he blew kisses to the crowd before sitting down again.

  “Next, the King of the South, Angry Dagger!”

  Angry Dagger stood, a scar cutting across his right eye. He lifted the blade in his hand and dragged his tongue along its edge. The audience erupted into a frenzy.

  “Third, the King of the North, Carl Timber!”

  Carl Timber rose lazily, wearing shorts and holding a lit blunt between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled a plume of red smoke toward the audience before dropping back into his seat with a bored expression.

  “And finally! The King of the East! The Invincible, Big Dog!”

  Big Dog did not stand. He simply raised his right fist toward the ceiling. The reaction dwarfed all the others. The crowd roared as if the walls would collapse.

  Joe barely noticed.

  His eyes were fixed on Shelly.

  She stood behind Big Dog, and her right eye was swollen shut. That injury had not been there when he left the cell.

  Joe’s hands clenched at his sides. His jaw tightened.

  'That bastard!'

  “That concludes the introductions. Let the Inter Prison Section Elite Tournament begin!”

  The lights blazed back to life. The crowd roared again, every eye fixed on the stage. Anticipation crackled through the air.

  Lars opened his mouth to speak.

  A violent surge of wind slammed into him.

  His body launched off the platform and crashed into the stone wall. His glasses shattered. His face caved inward from the impact. He slid down the wall and hit the ground limp.

  Less than a second had passed since the tournament began.

  The crowd fell silent.

  Chase and Breaker stared in shock.

  Joe was standing between them.

  ‘What the hell? When did he move? I didn’t even see him strike!’ Chase’s thoughts spiraled.

  Breaker’s eyes widened. ‘That force. How did he pack that much power into a single blow and how did he hit him without any physical contact!’

  Before either could react, Joe punched outward with both fists.

  A compressed burst of wind detonated from his strikes.

  Chase and Breaker were hurled off the platform, smashing into opposite walls. Blood sprayed from their mouths as their bodies rebounded and collapsed onto the floor below.

  Joe turned his head slowly toward Reaper.

  The pale boy trembled. His bladder gave way, liquid pooling at his feet as terror seized him.

  A blast of wind struck him square in the face. Bone cracked audibly as he was flung into the wall and dropped to the ground, unmoving.

  Joe stood alone at the center of the platform, staring at the stone beneath his feet.

  The entire hall was silent.

  The Four Great Kings sat frozen in their seats. The inmates could only gape in disbelief.

  It took several long seconds for the truth to sink in.

  The tournament was already over.