Reincarnated as the Only Male in an All-Girls Magic Academy!
Chapter 73: Free For All! (2)

Chapter 73: Free For All! (2)

"First," she announced, her voice carrying the weight of absolute authority, "no more than five participants may simultaneously engage a single target. Any group that exceeds this number will be immediately disqualified as a unit, regardless of their individual contributions to the violation."

The rule was brilliant in its simplicity and complexity.

It prevented overwhelming gang-ups while still allowing tactical cooperation, creating a dynamic where alliances had to be carefully managed and constantly evaluated.

Groups that grew too large would eliminate themselves, while individuals had to balance the safety of numbers against the risk of accidental rule violations.

"Second," she continued, "no participant may remain motionless or deliberately avoid combat for more than sixty consecutive seconds. This trial tests your ability to fight and survive, not your skill at hiding or waiting for others to eliminate each other."

This rule eliminated the possibility of passive strategies that might allow weaker participants to advance through patience rather than skill.

Everyone would be forced to engage actively, ensuring that survivors would be those who could fight effectively rather than those who could avoid fighting altogether.

"Third," she concluded, "any technique that causes permanent physical damage, targets non-combatant observers, or attempts to destroy the arena infrastructure will result in immediate disqualification and potential criminal charges."

The final rule balanced the permission to use any technique with reasonable limits that protected both participants and spectators.

It allowed for intense combat while maintaining the distinction between competitive trial and actual warfare.

"In the next five seconds," the instructor announced, raising her staff in preparation for some form of magical activation, "each of your identification badges will illuminate with a number corresponding to your assigned arena. You must proceed to that arena immediately upon seeing your assignment."

The moment of truth had arrived. Ren felt his badge grow warm against his chest, and he looked down to see the number four glowing with soft orange light against the metal surface.

Arena four would be his battleground, the place where his weeks of intensive training would either prove sufficient or be found wanting.

He glanced to his left and saw that Mirabella’s badge displayed the number two, its light steady and bright against her uniform.

A quick look to his right confirmed that Lia’s badge showed the same number, meaning his two closest allies would be fighting together in a different arena entirely.

The randomization had done exactly what it was designed to do; scatter existing partnerships and force everyone to adapt to new circumstances without the comfort of familiar teammates.

"Good luck," Ren said simply to both Mirabella and Lia, his voice carrying genuine warmth and concern for their welfare.

Mirabella nodded once, her expression serious but confident. "Stay sharp," she replied. "And remember everything you’ve practiced."

Lia’s response was characteristically direct and affectionate. She reached over and squeezed his hand briefly, her touch warm and reassuring.

"Don’t do anything stupidly heroic," she said with a slight smile. "I want you around for the next round."

With those final words, they separated to find their respective arenas. Ren moved through the crowd with fluid grace, his enhanced awareness allowing him to navigate the press of bodies without unnecessary contact or delay.

When Ren stepped onto the platform designated as arena four, his enhanced senses immediately began cataloging the tactical situation, and what he discovered sent a chill of concern down his spine.

Of the five hundred prospectives now occupying the circular combat area, only a few dozen wore the distinctive uniform modifications that marked them as members of his own Side Block C!

The vast majority of participants came from the other two blocks, and their positioning wasn’t random.

They had arranged themselves in loose but coordinated groups that suggested pre-existing alliances and planned strategies.

This wasn’t going to be a chaotic free-for-all as he had initially expected - it was going to be a coordinated campaign by organized factions.

But it was the looks he was receiving that truly confirmed his suspicions about the political dimensions of this trial.

Many of the female participants were regarding him with expressions that ranged from hostile to predatory, their gazes carrying the kind of focused malice that spoke of personal grievances rather than simple competitive rivalry.

As expected, he was going to be a primary target due to his gender.

Without hesitation, Ren summoned his kusarigama, the familiar weight of the weapon appearing in his hands with the fluid grace that came from weeks of intensive practice.

The chain portion coiled around his forearm like a living thing, ready to extend or retract according to his will, while the curved blade caught the arena’s light and reflected it in dangerous gleams.

His stance shifted into combat readiness with movements so smooth they seemed choreographed.

Feet positioned for optimal balance and mobility, weight distributed to allow instant movement in any direction, weapon held with the kind of relaxed alertness that marked a true warrior rather than someone simply holding a tool.

The change in his demeanor was immediate and unmistakable.

Gone was the calm student who had been adjusting his uniform that morning.

In his place stood a fighter who had been forged in the crucible of intensive training and political necessity, someone who understood that survival often depended on the willingness to act decisively when action was required.

Around him, other participants were making similar preparations, weapons appearing and stances shifting as the reality of the coming conflict settled over the arena.

The atmosphere grew thick with tension and barely contained violence, five hundred young warriors preparing to prove their worth in the most direct way possible.

A voice began echoing through the arena, mechanical and precise in its delivery. "Trial commencement in ten seconds," it announced, each word falling like a hammer blow against the stone floor.

"Nine."

Ren’s breathing slowed and deepened, his enhanced senses expanding to take in every detail of his immediate surroundings.

"Eight."

"Seven."

The malicious gazes focused on him seemed to intensify, and he could sense the coordinated intent behind them.

"Six."

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

The arena held its collective breath.

"Two."

Time seemed to slow as Ren’s enhanced perception kicked into full activation.

Every detail around him became sharp and clear, from the subtle tensing of muscles in nearby opponents to the almost imperceptible shift in air pressure that preceded the beginning of combat.

"One."

The word hung in the air for an eternal instant, pregnant with possibility and threat.

Five hundred young warriors stood poised on the edge of chaos, weapons ready and minds focused on the single goal of survival.

"BEGIN!"