MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Thirty hours passed in the blink of an eye.

The champions, now fully recovered, owed their swift healing to an abundance of potent potions that could mend their wounds several times over.

Their planetary representatives, anticipating the grueling nature of the competition, had prepared meticulously for such scenarios.

Even with unwavering faith in their champions' abilities, they refrained from making reckless or overconfident decisions.

As the appointed hour approached, a palpable tension filled the air.

Eyes fluttered open, weary yet determined, and participants stirred from their rest.

Some rose to their feet, anticipation coursing through them, while others remained seated, conserving their energy in silent contemplation.

Emerging from their cottage, Anthony, Lucian, and Aaaninja stepped into the open space, their movements deliberate as they joined the others, ready to face what lay ahead.

As the timer reached its end, the Overseer appeared once more, his presence commanding immediate attention.

His sharp gaze swept over the gathered crowd, scrutinizing each participant before he began to speak.

"I trust you all had a good rest. Well, I certainly did, if anyone is curious"

A faint smile played on his lips, adding an unsettling air of levity to his words as he continued.

"Out of the thousands who triumphed in the Ascension Mirage, only three hundred thousand have emerged victorious from the Endless Wave round. Although the number remains impressive, it is significantly reduced, but manageable"

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd as his words sank in.

Frowns deepened, and whispers stirred among the participants.

The stark reality of the dwindling numbers weighed heavily.

More than half of the contenders from the previous round were gone, their ambitions extinguished in the brutal trial.

For some, weariness and apprehension took root.

The thought of another game loomed like a shadow, and a quiet yearning to reach the core of the Starborn Tournament stirred within them.

Doubts crept into their minds, after all, who could guarantee survival in the trials yet to come?

"Well, the numbers don't matter"

The Overseer said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Now, we'll begin what you've all been waiting for. One on one battles are about to commence"

A collective sigh of relief swept through the champions.

For many, this was the moment they had eagerly anticipated.

To others, however, it was merely another trial, just one more step in the tournament.

Their confidence remained unshaken, no matter the format.

"As always, the rules are simple"

The Overseer continued, his tone almost bored.

"You all know them well, so I won't waste time repeating them. But, just to remind you, killing is allowed. If you wish to end your opponent's life, no one will hold it against you"
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A wicked smile curled across his face, sending a chill through the air.

Yet, despite his assurance, was it truly so simple? The death of a champion was rarely without consequence.

Planetary representatives could harbor grudges, their wrath manifesting in wars that spanned the galaxy.

Unlike the Bloodbath of the Blue Planet, there were no mana bound contracts here to prevent retaliation.

The fallout was entirely left to the discretion of the offended planets.

And the Overseer relished the thought.

The prospect of planetary wars, the chaos of bloodshed, the symphony of screams and the echoes of death, it was a spectacle he eagerly awaited.

His emphasis on the 'if you want' wasn't a suggestion; it was an invitation to chaos.

The planetary representatives of the champions who perished during the endless monster waves had no outlet for their anger.

Their frustrations found no target, for their champions' demise stemmed from their own inadequacies.

After all, if a champion couldn't withstand the onslaught, the least they could do was activate an artifact to escape.

Failing even that? They were more than useless, a liability unworthy of the tournament's stage.

Some representatives didn't mourn their champions.

They neither flinched nor betrayed the slightest hint of emotion.

To them, their fallen champions were mere placeholders, pawns to fill the ranks.

Their gaze was fixed on something far greater, something worth the sacrifice of a few inconsequential pieces.

Yet, among the planets that had suffered devastating losses, a few harbored dangerous ambitions.

Schemes brewed in silence, their plans shrouded in mystery and risk.

Victory would bring glory to their entire planet, a triumph celebrated for generations.

But failure? Failure meant their worlds would be cloaked in mourning, the weight of loss crushing both pride and hope.

The Overseer gazed down at the gathered champions, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

It was unclear to most what expectations lay behind his penetrating stare, though few cared enough to dwell on it.

Yet, there were those perceptive enough to sense his unspoken desires, his hunger for chaos and bloodshed.

But what did it matter?

In this universe, might made right, and whoever wielded the largest fist dictated the rules.

"Well then"

The Overseer began, his voice sharp and commanding.

"Any questions? This time, I'll be generous and answer them all"

As he spoke, he seemed to savor the subtle waves of killing intent radiating from the champions, some of which were brazenly directed at him.

Amused rather than insulted, he dismissed their silent hostility.

To him, their defiance was no more than the buzzing of ants.

A champion stepped forward, her hand raised, catching the Overseer's attention.

He nodded, granting her permission to speak.

"How will opponents be determined?"

She asked.

"Will the pairings be randomized, or will the representatives decide?"

Her words sparked a murmur among the crowd.

Those who understood her implications frowned.

If the representatives could select matchups, alliances and backroom deals could sway the tournament in favor of a select few.

The Overseer's lips curled into a smile, clearly pleased with the question.

"The matches will be randomized"

He replied, his voice steady but laced with a hint of amusement.

"The process will be explained shortly"

The champion nodded and stepped back, seemingly satisfied.

Another champion raised her hand, her voice firm as she asked.

"Are we allowed to claim the spoils of our battles?"

Her question stirred mixed reactions among the group.

Some regarded her with mild disdain, seeing her focus on personal gain as shortsighted compared to the grander goal of securing a spot in the top ten.

Others, however, understood her pragmatism.

If one couldn't claim a spot in the top ten, leaving with treasures of your opponent was a reasonable consolation.

After all, who knew what valuable secrets might lie within an opponent's space ring?

The Overseer's grin widened.

"Of course"

He said, his tone almost gleeful.

"You are free to do whatever you deem necessary during your battles, even crippling your opponents if you wish. Claiming your spoils of war is no exception. And should anyone dare to interfere…"

His smile turned sinister.

"I will personally ensure they regret it"

The unspoken truth lingered in the air: his protection extended only to the duration of the tournament.

Afterward, the champions would be on their own.

Possessing treasures was one thing, but having the strength to keep them was an entirely different matter.

Despite the Overseer's casual tone, none doubted his authority.

He was a member of the Voidwalker race, beings who stood at the pinnacle of the galaxy's hierarchy.

More than that, the Overseer himself was a powerhouse, his reputation a testament to his terrifying strength.

For now, the champions listened, their thoughts divided between ambition, survival, and the looming uncertainty of what lay ahead.