Chapter 207: Final race start

Chapter 207: Final race start"Second round ends!" With that voice quickly, the top five hundred names were displayed on a big scroll with a bright golden light.

"Tchh! Apollo was also a little annoyed, as he was also a bit excited to face Drakins, but he calmed down; he should have a chance, and he shouldn’t forget his main mission in the mood of excitement.

In the end, the top ten were the ten ancient clans that occupied it with their unfathomable strength, which has been continuing for thousands of years.

Apollo’s rank was also not bad, as his name flashing at 74th on the ranking board sent waves of shock through the assembly. For someone from a lesser-known clan like the Rose Clan to place so high was almost unheard of. Such a feat hadn’t been accomplished in centuries, and whispers began to ripple through the various factions.

"A rank like that... from a weak clan?" Someone muttered in disbelief.

"It must be a fluke," another added, though their uneasy expression said otherwise.

But Apollo wasn’t the only surprise of this year’s assembly. Two other dark horses had also clawed their way into the top hundred, defying expectations and shaking the established hierarchy.

The first one was naturally Esher, whom he briefly met, and the other one is called Leon Hargrove, from a weak clan of merchants. His tactical prowess had carried him to 89th place. Leon’s success shook the elites, as merchants had never been known to breed warriors of note. Whispers filled the air:

"A merchant’s son? How did he even qualify?"

"This year is cursed," an older participant grumbled, nervously eyeing the rankings.

This was not the only surprising thing: For some reason, quite a few participants from various small and loose forces made it to the top five hundred, making this Ten Clan Assembly different and concerning.

"The strong clans can’t be happy about this," someone whispered.

Indeed, all the well-established clans had always crushed rising stars from minor factions before they could threaten their dominance. Yet somehow, this year, their grip seemed to slip.

Apollo stood silently amidst the murmuring crowd, his eyes calmly scanning the rankings. His mind, however, wasn’t on his newfound fame. ’So many small forces... why are so many of them doing well this time? What kind of fucking shit is happening? Hopefully, it wouldn’t mess with his objective.’

Drakins, standing atop the rankings at number one, sneered as he noticed the unusual names scattered across the list. "A bunch of gnats," he muttered, crimson mist flickering faintly around him.

"They’ll all fall soon enough." Other top-ten participants also commented that it doesn’t matter how many scrubs there are; in the end, it’s all about the top-ten clans.

Just then, the booming voice of the assembly’s overseer echoed across the platform.

"Participants, prepare yourselves. The third round will begin soon."

The atmosphere grew heavy with tension as the participants returned to their clan stations, each step measured, each glance wary. Everyone knew that the third round would be decisive—the moment where ambition, alliances, and sheer strength would collide to determine the future standing of their clans.

The Rose Clan’s camp buzzed with excitement and surprise.

Apollo, Marianne, and Matheo—all three of them seem to have entered the top five hundred, which surprises the Rose Clan leader and elders. They believed Apollo and Matheo could do that but didn’t expect Marianne to also enter the ranks.

But after asking, they quickly understood that her luck was good as she was able to meet Apollo within the miniature world, thus able to achieve such rank.

Matheo, standing beside Marianne, gave her a small smile. Although he was a proud guy, he was glad for Marianne and that she was able to qualify.

"Thank you."

He thanked Apollo, showing that he wasn’t a jealous guy or a person who didn’t understand the situation.

Apollo nodded and felt he really deserved to be the best genius of the Rose Clan, who was groomed to become the future leader of the clan.

Across the Rose Clan’s gathering, the topic of Apollo’s success dominated conversation. His 74th rank was nothing short of historic, placing him leagues above what any Rose Clan member had achieved in living memory.

As time passed, a tense silence settled. Groups from all the great clans retreated to their camps, preparing for the coming round.

Two hours later, all preparation was done, and they were ready to begin the final round and determine the future of the world for the next century.

Without warning, a deep, resonating hum filled the air. The sky above them shimmered, glowing with ancient runes and sigils that twisted and pulsed as if alive. The overseer’s voice echoed across the expanse once more, heavy with authority.

"The final round begins now."

In an instant, beams of radiant light shot down from the heavens, enveloping each participant. Apollo squinted as the world around him dissolved into pure energy, his body weightless as he was pulled into a new battlefield.

When the light faded, he found himself standing on an enormous floating platform suspended between two shimmering skies—one of brilliant day and the other of endless night. The platform’s edges dropped off into a swirling abyss that seemed to twist space and time itself.

All around him, the other participants appeared, scattered across the surreal landscape. Top-ranked participants glanced at each other, calculating their next moves.

The overseer’s voice thundered once more. "This final trial is simple: survive and ascend. Only ten participants who will first reach the peak will be final victors."

Booom!

The voice echoed, shocking everyone as they quickly looked at the never-ending peak that they had to reach. From here it seems like a simple climb, but everybody knows that it wouldn’t be simple.

But before they could think, the top ten clan representatives moved and started to go ahead, but just as they tried to fly, they found they seemed unable to fly. Others, who were quick to take, also started to run as they also found they were unable to fly, if they tried, an equally powerful force seemed to push them down.

The top ten clans shot forward, their movements swift and calculated. Even without the ability to fly, they sprinted across the ground with remarkable speed, their bodies glowing with a subtle aura.

Matheo cursed under his breath. "They’re not wasting any time."

"Neither should we," Apollo said calmly. Without hesitation, he began to move, his steps light yet deliberate as if he were conserving energy. Marianne and Matheo followed closely behind.

As Apollo and the others ascended further, they felt a growing pressure weigh down on their bodies. With each step, the pull of gravity increased, making their movements sluggish. What once seemed like a simple climb now seems to be slowly turning into a gruelling challenge. Muscles strained, and even breathing became more difficult.

The path leading to the top consisted of ninety-nine floating landmasses, each hovering independently between vast stretches of empty air.

Apollo, Marianne, and Matheo were now in the middle of the first floating land, and the gravity was here already more than ten times.

"This gravity field is no joke," Marianne muttered, feeling a bit troubled. Her legs already felt as if they were weighed down by lead.

"It’s going to get worse the higher we go." She groaned softly. "If it’s this bad now, I can’t imagine what it’ll be like on the ninetieth land."

Apollo remained silent, his sharp eyes tracking the movement of the participants advancing through the competition. What truly caught his attention, however, were several individuals from seemingly unknown and weaker clans moving ahead at an impressive pace—some even going toe-to-toe with representatives from the top ten clans.

This unexpected performance, instead of earning admiration, drew scorn and ridicule from others.

"Fools," one participant sneered. "Burning through their energy like that right from the start."

"They won’t last," another muttered dismissively. "This test isn’t just about strength—it’s endurance. Let them exhaust themselves early."

Indeed, pacing would be key, and overexertion in these early stages could cost even the strongest participants later.

He adjusted his pace, keeping a steady rhythm. There was no need to rush yet. The real battle would come when endurance faltered, and exhaustion took hold. Until then, he would conserve his strength—observing, waiting, and preparing to strike when the time was right.

Everyone was running, and they didn’t attack anyone, as they were waiting to see what lay ahead and figure out what they would do.

Outside, all of this seems to be displayed on a large mirror like an artifact that projected everything that was going on.

In the spectator stands, leaders, elders, and influential figures from across the clans observed the competition closely through a massive mirror-like artifact, its surface shimmering with scenes from the trial. Every movement, every struggle, and every decision made by the participants was laid bare for all to see.

The audience watched with varying emotions—some fascinated, others disappointed, and a few whispering in concern as several unexpected names climbed higher.